A Voyager story. Adventure. Rated PG.
By
The K-Squad for this story is:
Anita
Darrel W. Beach
Cassie
Carillon
Charlene
DarkS9
Jamelia
Lagniappe
Rocki
Sheryl
Tanaquil
Varoneeka
VoyagerGirl
Captain Kathryn Janeway stared into her coffee cup and wished there were some way to get a real cup of coffee. Neelix' approximations were getting better, and the replicator was fine. But, just once, she wanted a double espresso with frothy milk and a dash of nutmeg that tasted as though beans, a cow, and a plant had actually been involved in its creation.
And she wanted to drink it on Earth.
"Captain to the Bridge."
Firmly setting down her cup, Janeway stood and walked onto the Bridge, making eye-contact with Chakotay before she turned to the screen.
"Captain, a vessel from the fourth moon on an M-Class planet we are approaching is hailing us," Chakotay told her.
"On screen."
An alien face appeared on the viewscreen, surprisingly unattractive, with an enormous nose and very small eyes. Even after their many encounters with alien races, the crew of the Voyager found it difficult not to react with displeasure as the alien opened its black and brown mouth to speak.
"You have entered the Empire of the Faurel," the alien said. "None pass without a tribute to the God of Ice."
Janeway kept her face impassive, even friendly, as she answered, "I'm not familiar with that god."
"Your ignorance is forgiven, but a tribute is still necessary," the alien replied smoothly.
Janeway paused, meeting Chakotay's eyes a moment, then explained, "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid there won't be any tributes until you tell us who this God of Ice is."
"Infidels!" the alien barked. "We will not tolerate your blasphemy! Prepare to be blown to atoms!"
The viewscreen blinked out.
"Gee, friendly fellow," Paris remarked sideways from the conn.
Janeway sat in her chair with a sigh, not really believing any of this. Alien challenges were familiar to her, but they were usually a little more subtle. I really do deserve that cup of coffee.
"Captain, I'm reading three ships approaching from the planet," Tuvok reported.
"Tuvok, I don't care what it takes, but get that alien fanatic back on the screen," she replied grimly. "I'm in no mood to fight a holy war today."
"Perhaps we should simply ask what sort of tribute they have in mind," Chakotay suggested quietly as he sat beside her.
"I've established contact," Tuvok announced, and again the alien, now looking quite angry, appeared before them.
"We're not making the sort of impression I was hoping for," Janeway began.
"What do you want now?" the alien raged. "I have the right to demand tribute since it is our territory your ship has invaded."
"We didn't know of your culture's beliefs. Maybe if you explained what sort of tribute is needed we could provide it." Janeway kept her voice level and pleasant, keenly aware of the position she was in. Her ship was outnumbered and she was, as always, alone out here. But she still wasn't going to let this alien swindle her, if that's what the scheme was.
The alien's expression became even more grotesque. Janeway supposed it was also trying to appear conciliatory. She wondered if that were the alien's equivalent of a smile.
"Tribute must be offered in the temple of Xg'guil'th, by your leaders."
"The Temple of Xg'guil'th?" Janeway asked.
"Yes, that is the only temple unclean enough to support infidels like yourselves, but still blessed enough to support our needs." The alien sneered slightly and Janeway felt all her hackles rise.
"And what sort of tribute exactly do you require?" she wanted to know.
The alien drew himself up to his full height and peered down his huge nose into her bridge. "Only that which is fitting for the God of Ice. If your tribute is unacceptable, you will not be allowed passage through our space. However, if your tribute is acceptable, then we will send our best warriors to help you to our borders, some 200 light years distant."
The Captain slumped back in her chair. 200 light years, she thought with a mental whistle of appreciation she was sure the others shared.
"Where is the temple of Xg'guil'th?" Janeway asked as politely as possible through gritted teeth, then subtly indicated to Tuvok that he mute the sound while the coordinates were being downloaded.
She turned her head slightly to Tuvok and growled, "Scan their ships. I want to know all their strengths and weaknesses."
"Captain, I am detecting a thick outer hull comprised of what appears to be an unknown substance. It could be an alloy of several different metals, but I cannot be certain without further analysis, and I cannot scan beyond it."
"All right, put him back on." Janeway turned back to the unidentified Faurel. "Now that we have your co-ordinates, would you mind filling us in on what this tribute entails?"
"Certainly." The alien seemed to puff himself up with pride. "Hk'kaalt, the God of Ice, is paid tribute by the most sanctified of ceremonies, performed only by a person of virtuous nature, one pure of body and spirit. Hk'kaalt will not accept tribute from anyone less than perfect."
As Janeway had Tuvok mute the sound once again, a few people on the bridge turned and looked at Harry. He returned a mean stare.
"What're you looking at me for?"
"Harry, we all know that you're the most upstanding ensign in Starfleet. You're the one who has to get us out of this," Tom declared.
"Now, wait a minute. I can't call myself perfect!" Harry began to sweat visibly.
"You are correct, Ensign," Seven commented, having arrived on the bridge to witness the alien's hostility. "No Human is perfect. In fact, since I have been detached from the Collective, perfection has even eluded me. But you will be an appropriate substitute."
Harry looked to Janeway. "Captain, I don't know about this..."
Janeway exchanged a glance with her first officer. Someone "pure in spirit." What did that mean? Harry, young as he was, had proven himself to be a highly ethical young officer.
"Harry, I believe you might be appropriate for this mission," she finally said. "But I only want to choose you if you volunteer."
Harry looked around at Tuvok, Tom, and Ayala, before returning his attention to his captain and the commander. With a deep sigh, Harry said, "All right. I'll do it."
Janeway indicated that the audible transmission should be reinstated with a nod to Tuvok.
"We have a person who is willing to provide this...tribute to your Ice Deity. Ensign Kim." The captain nodded her head to the young Ops officer, who pulled himself straighter and walked around his console to stand next to the captain.
"Very good," stated the alien. "This person, of pure and righteous spirit, is a male, is he not?"
"Yes," answered the captain.
"Then he will need a partner of the opposite sex to represent your species fairly. Unless your species reproduces with more than two?"
Harry choked slightly and found himself looking at the back of Tom's head, wishing desperately that Paris and Torres would qualify. Somehow, he didn't think so.
A rustle could be heard as someone moved next to him.
"I will accompany the ensign, Captain," said Seven stoically.
"They're both rather young to be sacrificed," the alien noted casually.
"Sacrificed?" Janeway shouted. "You didn't say --"
Suddenly, the alien on the screen exploded in horrible noises. They rocked his whole body and caused vast gobs of spittle to eject from his open maw. Janeway realized he was laughing.
Finally, he calmed, and wiped tears from his tiny eyes. "I was only joking. Gods! you people sure are gullible!"
Janeway didn't laugh.
"Am I to understand that this notion of an offering is just your joking way of saying hello?"
The alien calmed and looked a little disappointed at her lack of humor. "Oh, no. We will need your Ensign Kim and...that one there to make the sacrificial offering, if they are your choice and they pass the purity ritual. But the tribute does not actually involve sacrificing them. It is pure, and clean, even from infidels."
Janeway kept a death throttle on her anger. Somehow she was going to get through this conversation. "Then what exactly is this tribute?"
The alien looked confused. "There is only one tribute for Ice."
"Water?" Chakotay hazarded.
"Fire?" Seven asked.
"Skates?" Paris asked.
"Blood," the alien said, as though speaking to children.
Harry gulped. Paris sat up straight and looked ready to blast something. Even Seven seemed concerned.
"The blood of your Ensign Kim must spill upon the ice of the temple's chalice. Only when it freezes can we know if the tribute is accepted. With your blood from your pain mixing and solidifying to form a stronger substance, it is a symbolic reference to our ancient scrolls of the birth of the future causing pain. It is something we go through the moment we are born. A future alliance cannot be formed without this ritual."
"How much blood?" Harry asked.
The alien glared at him. "We are not savages," it announced angrily. "You must only shed enough blood to coat the sacred chalice."
Harry looked relieved at this statement, then thought to ask, "Um, how big is this sacred chalice?"
"The chalice is not large, infidel." The alien approximated the measurements with its long, spidery fingers.
Harry observed the alien. The alien was larger than him but the measurements were still somewhat acceptable...even if he didn't want to go through this at all.
"I think I can manage." he said while trying to look confident. He was still a Starfleet officer and this could save Voyager from an unnecessary and possibly messy fight.
The alien sat back in his chair and slowly grinned. It was a horrifying sight. "Good. We will see you at the coordinates, then."
The signal terminated and the crew was left momentarily silent.
"Captain," Paris said quietly, "the coordinates for the temple are not on the planet."
Janeway frowned and looked at the console. The temple was located on the planet's smaller moon.
"Information on that moon, Mr. Tuvok," she snapped.
"It has a breathable atmosphere, Captain, but the temperature range is barely tolerable for Human standards, almost freezing."
Torres felt herself filling with dread.
"I can handle it, Captain," Harry Kim said bravely.
"We're all going to handle it, Mr. Kim," she told him firmly. "Do you really think you're going there alone?"
Paris looked relieved. The speech he'd planned for proving that he was needed on the mission could be saved for some other life-or-death situation. There was bound to be another soon.
"Chakotay, I want you to stay on the ship. Keep an eye open for any trouble from our new...friends."
"Captain, I think I should be with you."
She spoke so quietly only Chakotay and Tuvok could hear her: "I'm going with Harry, and both of us can't leave the ship."
"I can do more on the planet than I can here," Chakotay insisted.
Unconsciously, Janeway turned slightly towards Tuvok for support, but he surprised her with his quiet announcement, "I believe I am the logical one to stay on the ship. Mr. Paris will doubtlessly be going, and you should take Seven of Nine. Vulcan intolerance of the cold will interfere with my ability to be of use."
Janeway nodded slowly.
"All right," she said, making eye-contact with Torres which was acknowledged with a reluctant nod. "Chakotay, Tom, Harry, Seven, you're with me."
The away team shimmered into existence just outside the temple gates. The temple itslef stood alone, in a field of ice.
Janeway frowned at the structure. There were no doors or windows. The sides -- all six of them -- were thirty meters tall, and smooth as glass, sparkling like diamonds in the harsh sunlight, hard and beautiful.
She looked at Chakotay. "How do we get in?"
"Look there, Captain!" Harry said, pointing to a small ripple forming in the wall closest to them. Stepping back a bit to leave room for whatever might appear, he stumbled over a small stone-like block of ice.
"Ah, youth," came a familiarly mocking voice. Seemingly melting through the wall came the alien, covered in head to toe with swaths of bright crimson fabric that made up what looked like ceremonial robes. Only his eyes were visible now.
"Greetings, people of Janeway. You may address me as Gho'neew." As Janeway opened her mouth to do just that, he went on, lookng at Seven. "You have appeared here to represent your race. You do this well." He looked at the man by her side. "Ensign Kim, are you prepared?"
Harry gulped, then straightened. "I am willing to do whatever is necessary."
"Well then, Captain Janeway, if you will excuse us, the God is waiting."
Seven opened her mouth to object, but Janeway took a step forward and placed her hand on Kim's shoulder. "I'm not letting him go in there alone. Whatever happens, someone from Voyager must join him."
Gho'neew's eyes widened. "Captain, I assure you, the Ice God will be with him. Only a trained few are allowed inside the main temple. I myself studied for forty-two years before crossing the threshold of this holy place."
Janeway pondered the situation for a moment. Finally, she stated, "Gho'neew, I understand your people have certain beliefs. However, one of ours is that an away team never consists of only one person. Even when you made your...joke...we never intended for Mr. Kim to enter your temple on his own. I will assign Mr. Paris, who is a trained medic, to supervise this ‘taking of blood for your Hk'kaalt."
"Captain," interjected Seven. "I was to accompany Ensign Kim."
Janeway looked sternly at Seven. Another challenge to her authority. What else was new? Tom Paris, however, leaned near her to whisper, "Captain, it may be a good idea for Seven to come too. Some of her Borg enhancements might come in handy."
Janeway nodded very slightly. "And I must also assign Seven of Nine to accompany Mr. Kim and Mr. Paris."
The alien's features twitched. "I assure you..."
"They have to go. It is Starfleet policy."
Janeway hoped, fervently, that this alien species had no ability to check on this falsehood by downloading anything to the contrary from their computer core's data base.
The alien made a strange gurgling sound, halfway between a hiccup and the way someone sounded when they were drowning. "I will accede to this. However, none of your crew are to touch anything in the temple without explicit instructions!"
Harry, Tom and Seven all murmured, "We agree." Seconds later, an aperture in the icy wall widened, and the three Voyager personnel stepped inside the maw of the temple.
But as the wall opened, Janeway sensed the deception which had been laid for her. Without thought, and joined without hesitation by Chakotay, she rushed forward to pull her people back from the temple wall.
There was bright, painful light. And it was so cold her blood seemed to freeze under her skin. The air in her lungs was fire, and the thermal reinforcement of the uniform did nothing to keep her from feeling that the cold was lethal. But then, she steadied, and heat -- mild, inadequate, but nevertheless legitimate heat -- returned to her body. She looked around, and saw Chakotay beside her. She reached out instinctively for him, and hit a clear wall of ice. She spun around, and saw Kim and Paris and Seven, each in their own ice chambers.
There was no sign of the alien.
Nor sign of any chalice.
"Kathryn!" she heard Chakotay shout faintly through the ice wall. She turned, and saw him pointing behind her.
She spun again, and saw that the opaque wall behind her was melting away, revealing what seemed to be an endless maze of ice walls.
"We're mice," she muttered, cursing herself. When was she going to learn to stop trusting strange aliens?
But there was nothing more that she could do, and with a look and a nod at her officers, she stepped forth into the labyrinth.
"Well, at least it looks like there'll be no need for Harry to bleed," Paris quipped to himself. He stared through the frigid, crystalline walls, barely able to make out the blurry images of his friends.
He touched the wall, and yanked his hand back with a curse. "Damn, that's cold!" He stuck his hand under his armpit to warm it and stared in frustration at the corridor ahead of him.
"Guess I'd better get started," he muttered.
Suddenly, a flash of brilliant white light filled the corridor, reflecting off the ice walls and blinding him momentarily. When he could see again, he nearly puked in disgust. "Q!" he exclaimed.
"Hello, Helmboy."
A grin was quirking the being's lips in a way which always irritated the hell of Paris.
"Is this your doing? Another game?" Paris challenged. God, he was really taking a chance, speaking to an omnipotent being like this, but he was cold and he was angry.
"No, I could think of better things," Q lightly replied.
A sudden bang made both turn their heads to look at an angry Janeway. Paris realized she had seen Q materialize and wanted to speak with the being herself. And with ease, Q walked through the ice to join her.
Tom had no way of knowing that Q wasn't actually talking with Janeway. She was far too busy talking to Captain Jean-Luc Picard.
"You've done well to get your crew this far," Picard was saying "You should be proud."
"I am proud," she said, trying to understand what was happening. "Proud of my crew. Proud of my ship."
Picard nodded. "Of course."
"Captain," she asked finally. "How could you possibly be here?"
Picard looked surprised and a little offended.
She turned to look for Chakotay's dim shape through the wall, but couldn't find it.
"Captain Janeway," Picard said next. "I think it's time you realized that your obsession with getting home isn't serving your crew's best interests."
"You're not Captain Picard," she muttered, eyes narrowed. "And I've confronted far more intimidating apparitions than you."
Picard looked amused. "I doubt it."
Janeway squared her shoulders and walked forward. Right before she would collide with Picard, he disappeared.
Chakotay could hear distant voices through the ice. He recognized the sounds of Paris and Janeway, although not in the same location.
"Kathryn? Where are you? Paris!" He pounded his fists against the cold, invisible barrier separating him from those he cared about.
"Chakotay..." A familiar voice came from behind.
As he turned towards the speaker, a fist launched itself out of the nothingness and connected with his brow.
"Ungh!" grunted Chakotay as he was flung backward by the sheer force of the punch. He cracked his head on the wall and slumped to the floor.
"That was for all you did to me!" Paris snarled.
"What do you mean?"
"I know you hate me. The looks. The remarks. I know you don't trust or like me. You just want me to go back and rot in prison, don't you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, Tom."
"Admit it. From the first day you saw me, you couldn't stand me. And now that I'm with B'Elanna, you're jealous too! Just because you were Maquis buddies doesn't mean you could ever have her!"
"What?"
Chakotay was still laying on the floor, and Paris kicked him.
"Get up! You know you want to hit me."
Groping the ice for a hand hold, Chakotay stumbled to his feet.
Harry shivered. The cold seeped into his bones. He had to admit, the cold bothered him more than he let on. He could never admit that to anyone else, though; it seemed that they always counted on him to be strong, so how could he disappoint them?
He looked up and down the maze's corridor, trying to ascertain which direction he should choose. Neither direction showed any advantage. Finally, he simply picked one way and started walking.
The maze twisted at evident random. Harry felt like he was going in circles, but the exertion helped warm him a little. He turned a corner and stopped dead in his tracks. His face, already blue from the cold, blanched even further.
"Harry!"
Harry rubbed his eyes, unable to accept the sight before him. "Libby?"
Libby stood in the center of the corridor, her arms outstretched. "I've missed you, Harry."
"Libby, what are you doing here?" This couldn't be she. Libby was back on Earth.
"I've never forgotten about you, Harry. I always knew that you were still alive. I've been waiting."
Harry fought the anger and tears welling up inside him. He couldn't allow himself to cry, not in this cold. "You're not real."
"Oh, but I am Harry. In every way you need me to be," she whispered. "How could you think otherwise?" She sauntered her way up to Harry, stopping just a few feet away. He noted that her skin was still a perfect tan, unblemished by the freezing temperature. "I've been saving myself for you. Don't you want me, Harry?"
"GO AWAY!" Harry screamed, no longer able to control his temper. He had finally been able to move past the need to see her again; he wouldn't allow this mirage to destroy that.
Suddenly, the image of Libby shimmered and vanished.
Harry realized that he was shivering again, but this time the cold had nothing to do with it. He composed himself as best he could and resumed his way down the corridor. The crew's earlier comments about his "purity" returned to mock him.
The tunnels were silent and ominous -- as if she were walking the frozen innards of an enormous python. The sides contracted with every step. Soon, her shoulders were brushing up against the ice walls, making her shiver. She tried telling herself that cold was irrelevant. Now, only finding her companions and escaping from the "temple" was important.
With every step, she was proceeding into a colder, darker place. She could hear strange noises: flapping, from far behind her.
At last, Seven stepped into a great opening. She looked around. The ceiling was impossibly high. Or was it that she had suddenly become so small? There was something familiar about this maze. A tantalizing memory brushed into her mind.
And along with the memory came something else. Colder than the ice around her, chilling her until she could barely move.
The sound of flapping from behind her made her shiver. She wanted to run and hide as clumping sounds could be heard approaching. A thin beam of blood red light flashed by her.
There was nowhere she could go to hide, although every instinct told her that she must. But if this red light were what she thought it was, she had no reason to fear.
Seven turned to the light. Thrusting her shoulders back, she stood as tall as she could in the impossibly immense cavern and faced the two figures coming toward her.
They were who she knew would be coming. Coming for her. Finally, she would be free. But did she want to be free?
Walking toward the figures, Seven looked into their faces and screamed.
The faces looking back at her were those she had known once, before she had come to the Delta Quadrant. Before she had become Borg.
The faces were of a human man and woman. She knew them. They knew her. And in her mind, she screamed as their minds flooded into hers.
But the name they called her was not the one she had heard them call with their lips. Not "Annika."
"Seven. Seven of Nine." It echoed in her mind.
Reflexively, she struck out with her enhanced left arm, smashing into these figures that could not be real. Could not be her parents, become Borg. As her hand struck out at them, the figures grasped her close to them.
Before her eyes, the figures coalesced from two beings into one: one hideous being, transforming into a creature from her nightmares, The eyes of the creature stared into hers, as Seven screamed.
Paris stood there for quite some time after he watched Q and Janeway disappear.
There were, he thought, several possibilities.
Either Q was the God of Ice, which was possible but didn't feel like Q's style, or Q was just playing with his mind, which again didn't feel right. Or it hadn't really been Q.
But if it hadn't been Q, what was it?
Paris shook himself and walked forward. He had to find the others, and he had to keep moving.
"Oh, Tommy. You never think about me anymore."
Paris turned at the sound, thinking furiously that while it was possible for Q to be in this ice maze, that voice made no sense at all.
"Ricki?"
She smiled at him, that slow, seductive smile that used to get his heart pumping.
"Tom, you don't even seem pleased to see me."
He looked over her gray suit, her high heels, her sexy walk.
He stood there, watching, waiting to see if she would turn into Q. She smiled, reached out for him, and then slapped him in the face.
"Who's the freak you've dumped me for, Paris?" she spat.
"What the hell are you talking about? What's going on here?"
He grabbed her arm as she laughed and flashed out, leavin ghim alone once again.
"Okay, okay," Paris said aloud. "This isn't real. Q, Ricki, they're not really here." He frowned at the walls around him. "Maybe this whole maze isn't real."
Resolutely, he walked to the nearest wall, but his foot struck solidness, and again he felt that painful chill.
"What do you want from us?" he shouted angrily. "What are you getting out of this?"
"Nothing you could provide, Tommy-boy," Q sneered, leaning against the opposite wall, smirking.
"Don't be hard on the lad," Picard admonished, leaning on the wall ahead of them. "After all, he only killed a few people at Caldik Prime. And it almost wasn’t really his fauLt. And only his fault."
"You're not real, either of you," Paris snarled, easily recognizing the captain's image. Turning from them both, he took off his combadge and scratched a circle in the ice with its tip, then returned it to his chest and walked quickly deeper into the maze. Behind him, the circle disappeared.
Dumbfounded, Chakotay stared up at the violent apparition looming over him.
Paris grabbed him by the collar and yanked him upright, screaming, "You bastard! You bastard!"
Finally, Chakotay couldn't take anymore. He grabbed Paris in a wrestling hold, tripping him and taking him to the ground.
He outmassed Paris by a good twenty-five pounds, so he figured he had the advantage. Surprisingly, Paris managed to roll the two of them over, getting on top of Chakotay and pinning him to the icy floor.
"Damn you, Chakotay," Paris growled, then fiercely pressed his lips to Chakotay's in a vicious kiss.
Momentarily stunned by Paris' action, Chakotay lay frozen, allowing the violent intrusion. The chill from the floor raised gooseflesh along his back, contrasting with the heat of the man above him. He found himself relaxing, responding...
Paris started to nip at his neck. This was starting to raise more than his temperature. Not only was the harsh reassurance of the ice bringing him back to his senses, but the wandering hands moving over parts of him he knew the real Paris wouldn't touch snapped him back to the present.
He started pushing off Paris even if a part of him still wanted the warmth of the man's body on top of him.
Paris resisted and Chakotay started pushing in earnest. Finally, he shoved Paris against a wall.
To his surprise, Paris disappeared into that wall, leaving behind another edge-metled passage.
Out of that entrance stepped another member of the crew looking just as confused as he was.
Before her eyes, the figures coalesced from two beings into one, with one hideous being transforming into a creature from her nightmares. The eyes of the creature stared into hers, as he screamed. But the sound was cut short as the being jumped on her, clawing at her body. It wasn’t passion that motivated this being. It was disgust. Hate. Its mottled yellow skin pressed hot against hers. It knew she was vulnerable without her companions.
The weak shall perish.
A member of Species 8472 was at her throat. Her uniform and the flesh beneath it tore. The shallow gash bled freely, trickling onto the cold, hard ground.
A powerful arm lashed out, intending to crush her skull, but Seven jerked her head away in time. Ice chips from the floor flew up and stung her cheek.
Seven knew that unless she gained an immediate advantage in this fight, her existence would end right here. In this dismal, frigid place, she would die. Alone.
The sheer mass of the creature was crushing her chest. She couldn’t breathe. The beast’s eyes flashed in the gloom as it tried to tear its teeth into her neck. The ex-Borg brought her legs up to kick at the creature and shifted her weight, rolling the brute over onto its back. Its teeth never had time to touch her. The 8472 snarled and lashed out again for the killing blow.
And missed.
How could it miss? She was on top of it. An easy target.
Something about this fight was wrong.
Obviously, this being was not Species 8472. If it were, she would be dead.
Almost as if something had read her thoughts, the being under her vanished into thin air and the whole length of her body thudded into the freezing ground. It hurt. No doubt about that, but at least she was still alive.
However, the wind was knocked out of her, and her shoulder wound still bled. Apparently, these apparitions could be deadly if pushed far enough.
Like holodeck images with the safeties turned off, she thought.
Several more corridors branched out from this chamber. They too were dark and uninviting. She did not wish to move yet. In fact, she was curled up into a tight ball, shivering uncontrollably.
Seven was separated from her companions. It was obviously that she had to find them.
Mustering all the strength left in her exhausted limbs and gathering all her courage, she stood up. Shaky, but still breathing, she picked a corridor at random and set off.
If her own experiences were any indication, her friends were in deep trouble.
The corridors were getting a little crowded now.
Janeway had met Mark, a litter of puppies, Q, and her roommate from the academy. It was starting to get old. However, it had been some time now since anyone had appeared, as though her tormentors were tiring of the game as well.
The corridors were still crowded, however, with the possibilities ahead. It wasn't like Janeway to be fanciful, but she was off her balance, and it was so cold, and the walls seems to be getting narrower.
She hated this. She wanted out.
Janeway stopped walking, her head lifting as she sniffed instinctively. There was something...a smell she almost recognized. Sharp, but faintly pleasant. She couldn't help wanting to follow it. Besides, unless she turned back there was really no choice to her direction now. She walked deeper and deeper through the walls of ice, as the smell grew stronger, almost as though it were urging her forward.
A memory came with the scent now: she and Chakotay talking on New Earth, wishing they had been able to salvage more of their equipment, talking of adding variety to their diet.
A campfire.
She was certain of it. She was smelling wood burning. Ahead of her, faintly, something flickered, a dim light which ebbed and danced. Her footsteps slowed, and then she saw that the fire was moving towards her. A pillar of it, crackling, sustaining itself somehow on the ice alone.
It can't be real, she thought. And yet the heat had reached her. Illusion or not, that heat was as real as the cold. She stepped back involuntarily, and nudged up against a new wall of ice. She turned to see that she had been cut off from retreat. There was nowhere to go...except into the fire.
And so, setting her jaw almost unconsciously, she walked directly through the fire, refusing to believe in the blue-orange flames which licked at her body. She smiled in triumph...until the burning pain lanced through her, making her scream.
Just as Chakotay realized that it was Harry walking through the wall of ice, the air flashed white all around them, then faded to black. An eddy of pain swirled through his head, and he could hear Harry screaming just before he passed out.
Janeway opened her eyes, and realized she was lying on her back. She felt miserably cold, and her head ached. She tried to sit up, but found the effort more than she cared to undertake. Turning her head, she could see her team lying in various states: Seven was curled into a ball, Chakotay and Paris were spread-eagled, Harry was turned on his side. A voice above her drawled, "You're not very amusing creatures."
The captain forced herself to focus her eyes. On top of a pillar of ice sat a creature with a thin, pale blue face.
Its large eyes blinked.
"Who are you? And what have are you doing to my crew?" she demanded angrily.
Inwardly, she cursed her own fragile body for not answering her commands to sit upright. With enough effort, she was able to raise her hand to her throbbing head.
She could hear her people begin to stir from the nothingness with more than a few moans.
"Who do you think I am, Janeway of Voyager?" inquired the stranger. With an amused smirk on its tiny slit of a mouth, it rested its head on a spindly hand with three fingers.
What I think is that you're no better than a cat that plays with its food, and I'm going to make sure you can never hunt again! thought Janeway ferociously.
"Now, now, Janeway, I heard that. You should be a little nicer to your host, shouldn't you? You wouldn't want to see what I can do when I get angry," coyly remarked the alien.
Just then, through the thin fabric of her uniform, she could feel the floor closest to the gigantic column begin to warm. It melted the ice of the pillar and lowered the seated alien to ground level, then grew cold and solid again.
Harry turned the next corner, only to find himself staring at yet another dead-end. He cursed at Gho'ween for all his duplicity. Right
from the beginning, nothing about this affair seemed on the level. If only they hadn't been put on the immediate defensive by the Faurel, the captain might not have been forced to agree to their terms so quickly.
Unfortunately, only hindsight was 20/20. They couldn't have anticipated this trap.
"Ensign Kim, is that you?"
Harry turned around, a wide grin breaking his face. It felt good to hear a familiar voice. Seven walked up to him. A buildup of frost coated her jumpsuit and ice glittered in her hair, but otherwise she didn't seem to notice the cold.
"Boy, am I glad to see you, Seven. I was beginning to think I'd never find anyone in here."
"Agreed. I myself have not yet been able to determine the configuration of this labyrinth."
Harry's smile changed to a frown. "That's not good. I've been making turns for what seems like hours."
"There is no cause for alarm, Ensign. I have been recording the trail I've taken. We will simply take an alternative route I have not yet traversed."
Harry's spirits lifted. "Hey, that's a great idea, Seven. We're bound to run into someone else."
They began walking through the maze of tunnels once again, sometimes with a sense of purpose, at other times totally at random. On more than one occasion they had to backtrack, but Harry thought they were making progress.
"You are cold," Seven stated flatly at one point.
A master of the obvious, Harry thought.
"Uh, yeah, I think it's getting colder in here."
"Humans must maintain their body temperature at a certain level in order to survive," Seven stated.
"You don't seem to be affected, though."
"My implants assist in thermal regulation." She paused, looking left and right at intersection before continuing straight ahead. "Ensign, it is my estimation that you will not survive these conditions for much longer. If you like, I can help you. Body heat can be transferred between individuals by embracing."
They stopped right there. Harry quaked, both from the hypothermia and his anticipation, as Seven wrapped her arms around his back and pulled him into her body.
Harry smiled. It felt good, better than he ever imagined. He could feel her warmth penetrating him, bringing life and blood back into his frigid limbs. "You know, I think it's working."
"I am glad to hear it," Seven responded, increasing the pressure of her embrace.
Harry grunted in shock. Seven's grip suddenly became uncomfortable. "Seven, what are you doing? You're crushing me!"
Seven squeezed him even harder. "I am simply endeavoring to optimize the heat transfer by increasing the amount of your body's surface area in contact with my body. It would be a quicker and more efficient way to restore your core temperature, would it not?"
"Not if you snap me in half," Harry wheezed. Any last traces of pleasure he derived from the situation were pulped by Seven's massive bear hug, and she didn't seem to be relenting. He squirmed and writhed in her clutches, trying to worm his way free. "Seven, let me go! OW!" He grimaced in pain as he felt a rib fracture. This wasn't right; Seven would not intentionally hurt any of the crew. She had to be another alien projection, only this time it appeared that they were more sophisticated -- and more lethal. If only he could break free of her grip....
As if reading his very thoughts, Seven shifted her hold on the ensign, opening a hole to attack. Harry hesitated a moment, simply surprised by the coincidence, but he recovered quickly and gabbed hold of her arms. Ignoring the pain of his broken rib, he swung his legs up and tucked them into his stomach. Before she could react, he locked his heels and drove them into Seven's abdomen.
The two figures went flying in opposite directions as she lost her hold. Seven reeled backwards, gasping for the breath that had been forced from her lungs, and slammed hard into a wall of ice. Harry, much to his surprise, found himself launched into the air. In his backward flight he watched Seven crumple to the floor in a heap before he himself impacted with the frozen ground. He nearly passed out in the agony of his broken rib.
As the ebbed away, Harry gingerly got to his feet and moved toward the fallen replica of Seven. He knelt down beside the prone form, amazed by the simulacrum's appearance to Seven. Even now that he knew what it was, he wouldn't be able to tell them apart. The ramifications of that were not good. How would he know when he actually met a real member of the away team?
Harry caught a movement out of the corner of eye. He whipped around as fast as he dared to see part of the wall melt away into an opening. He looked to where Seven's doppleganger lay, but it had disappeared. He frowned. This place was getting just plain creepy. He stood up and looked up and down the tunnel, then looked at the newly formed doorway, wondering which path to take. As it stood, the tunnels he was already traveling weren't getting him anywhere; he might have better luck taking the new route. His mind settled, Harry cautiously crossed the threshold.
Unlike the other tunnels, this one was dark and had a low ceiling. Harry had two or three inches of clearance, but he stooped regardless. Perhaps taking this tunnel hadn't been such a good idea after all. The air was dank and moldy.
He must have traveled about fifty meters when the ceiling suddenly inclined. Harry straightened his posture accordingly. A few feet away another doorway dissolved into existence. Harry's senses went on alert. He could be walking into another trap. Carefully he stepped through the doorway. He found himself in another section of the labyrinth, but he wasn't alone. Commander Chakotay was looking back at him, a wary look on his face. No doubt he had been interacting with visions of the crew as well, if in fact this were the real Chakotay.
Harry was about to ask him that when a brilliant light flooded the chamber, blinding him. Harry shielded his eyes, but something seemed to roll over him. He screamed in intense pain, feeling as if his broken rib had been torn out his chest in bits and pieces. He fell, and blacked out before he hit the floor.
"What have you got now, Lang?" B'Elanna called out to the young woman who had replaced Harry at the Ops console.
"Not much, Lieutenant. I'm getting all kinds of readings, but they almost seem like reflections or duplications -- echoes, maybe, but not true lifesign readings."
"Let me see if I can fine-tune the sensor net a bit more." B'Elanna's fingers fairly flew over her console, raising and lowering the power of various aspects of the sensors. Much as she hated to admit it to herself, this was one time she wished that Seven of Nine were around to help her. The former Borg, with her enhanced reflexes and eidetic memory, was especially talented at this sort of calibration of the instrumentation.
The chief engineer was about to give up in frustration when the ensign at ops said, "Wait a minute. Whatever you just did, do it again. I'm getting lifesign readings now. Twelve of them: five human, and seven unknown.
B'Elanna carefully moved the annular confinement beam to a narrower band width. "That's it! Lieutenant, I'm getting the five human signs. They're all together in one area, about ten meters below the surface."
"What about those alien signs, Ensign?" inquired Tuvok from his seat at the center of the bridge. He had ceded his usual spot at Tactical to Lt. Ayala.
"Sir, I'm only reading two aliens now, and I'm not really sure if the reading is accurate. It may be another echo, like we were getting before."
"You mean only one alien may be holding everyone captive?" B'Elanna could not keep the indignation from her voice. If she could only withstand the cold better! But the one reading that had been consistent had been the temperature, at a steady minus five degrees Centigrade. She was getting concerned for all of the crew.
Tuvok, sitting motionlessly in the captain's chair, pondered his options. He was as concerned as the chief engineer about the possible condition of his captain and the rest of the away team. They had been away for over six hours. Hypothermia was becoming a distinct threat. The alien ships had remained suspended around the moon, however, and had not made any hostile moves.
How long could he permit this exercise to continue before some overt act upon his part would be necessary?
"Commander," Ayala said, "we are receiving a transmission from the moon."
Tuvok stood up, facing the viewscreen, "Put it through."
Gho’neew’s repulsive features greeted them once more, but there was no longer at attempt at any strange expressions. Instead, he looked deadly serious. "Do not make any attempt to interfere with the ritual. Your companions won’t be harmed...permanently."
Tuvok raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps you are unaware of our away team's intolerances to cold temperatures. If they stay on the moon much longer, they shall likely freeze to death."
"We have taken that into consideration. There is a dampening field around the sacred ice moon, as I’m sure one of your engineers can confirm."
B’Elanna pushed a few buttons on her console. "It’s true. It looks like the alien’s ships are co-operating to emit a dampening field, just as he says. We won’t be able to communicate with the away team or transport anyone up."
The alien looked at them smugly before cutting off his signal, leaving Tuvok with nothing more to reassure his crew with than his usual composed expression.
Janeway looked into the creature's pale blue face and succeeding in suppressing most of her anger. When she spoke, there was only the hint of a lethal snarl.
"You can't be this pointless," she said. "You can't go to this much trouble, luring us here, setting up this temple, creating these illusions, for nothing more than watching us squirm. You must be getting something out of it, something you can't take from us directly."
The creature's pale eyes narrowed at her, then turned to the blond man now struggling to his feet.
"You and your Lt. Paris think surprisingly alike, Captain." And then the creature nodded, as though pleased.
Janeway had a glimmer of an idea, some attempt at insight, when the world dissolved again.
And there she was, on the other side of the pillar of fire, looking ahead to another endless corridor.
The corridor looked even darker and colder than before, and she wanted to pound something hard in frustration. What had she almost seen back there?
"Captain!"
Janeway started at the noise, then turned back to the fire.
"No, Captain. Here!"
She looked down between her own feet. Through the clear floor she could see Paris below her, gesturing frantically.
"I think there's a way down!" he shouted.
She almost didn't want to bother. Another hallucination. But she remembered the alien's words. Were she and Paris to be teamed now because they thought alike? Was that part of the alien's purpose?
"Captain?" Paris was staring up at her in alarm.
She nodded and followed his gestures up the corridor. After about a hundred yards, she found a small opening in the ice and slithered down through it, caught by Paris' hands on her hips until her feet found purchase.
"Captain, am I glad to see you!" he said as she brushed her hair back and shivered. "You wouldn't believe some of the things I've been seeing here."
She smiled grimly. "Yes, I would."
"Do you have any idea what this is all about?"
"Not yet." She looked at him almost fiercely. "Tom, do you have a memory of waking up in a room with the others, confronting an alien with a large blue face?"
Tom looked uneasy. "No, ma'am."
The captain scowled. So that bit of information had been for her alone.
"Tom, how have you been responding to the illusions?"
"By ignoring them."
She nodded. "But perhaps we're not supposed to ignore them. Perhaps we're supposed to interact with them, use them, to show ourselves as worthy of making that tribute."
"How?" "I don't know," Janeway said with determination. "But I'm going to find out."
The wave of nausea had just begun to pass when another washed over him. It felt as if he were attached to a sinking weight in the ocean. Harry felt himself hit a hard surface with a thud.
What is that? he thought as he sensed something warm and vaguely soft with his right hand.
With a great deal of effort he wrenched open his heavy eyelids and turned his head. A brown, shapely object came slowly into focus.
"Seven?" he managed to whisper.
Not hearing a response, he dragged himself up and hunched over her still form.
Harry could see the small clouds of her breath over her mouth, so at least he had some comfort in knowing she was not dead.
Seven's eyes flew open and a Borg-enhanced arm lashed out, grabbing him around the neck.
Harry vainly tried struggling, but his protests came as flailing arms and muffled gurgles.
"Are you real?" Seven demanded in a cold tone. She brought herself up to a sitting position, still holding Harry high above her head.
"Ggyyggeeeggsss" he tried to answer, but the hand still clenching his throat proved to hinder his response.
Could this be a trick, or is it truly Ensign Kim? pondered Seven of Nine.
She released her grasp and yet again, Harry went crashing down onto the floor. Grimacing with pain and rubbing his now bruised neck with one hand, Harry, now more than slightly annoyed, snarled, "Yes it’s me! What'd you go and do that for? What kind of things have you seen?"
"I am sorry. I have experienced things that were...disturbing. I was not sure if you were another illusion. Have you seen the Captain?"
Looking around instinctively, they both saw an unconscious Chakotay lying on the floor some distance away. Harry was sure he hadn't been there before.
"Commander!" Ensign Kim yelled, running towards the prone figure, wondering if this would really be Chakotay. Seven was right beside him, and they knelt on either side of Chakotay's body.
"He is breathing," Seven announced without bothering to feel for a pulse. "But his color indicates poor health, and his body temperature is low."
"Commander!" Kim said gently, shaking the man's shoulder. "Chakotay!"
Fluttering a bit, the dark brown eyes opened, then darkened under a frown. "Harry? Seven?" He managed to sit up. "What's going on? The last I saw, some sort of creature was coming after me, and there was some blond woman of a race I've never seen, telling me she loved me. I would have thought it was a dream, but..." His hand moved to his side, and he winced.
"These illusions can inflict physical harm," Seven stated, helping the commander to his feet.
Chakotay was about to answer, when his eyes locked on the wall behind her. A new doorway had melted into place, and through the opening wafted a warming air current.
Instinctively, they moved towards it.
And then the floor dropped away.
Both Paris and Janeway woke to find themselves lying down in a meadow. In the background, the outline of a cabin stood in between them and the setting sun. They were both slightly disorientated. Both had tried to control their thoughts but ended up here.
The sky was quickly darkening and the light coming from the cabin seemed to be bidding them towards it.
"Captain, do you think we should check out that cabin? It most likely is a trap, considering what we've gone through."
"Possibly, but we may also find a solution to our predicament as well. One thing is for sure, we can't stand here in the dark." Janeway picked up the lead and headed cautiously toward the cabin. The captain wondered if she and Paris were making a mistake in trying to direct the illusions simply through the will of their own minds, but other courses of action eluded her.
To get here, they had stood in yet another of the ice corridors, trying to think of warmth and safety. The cabin had been the result.
The structure ahead of them certainly did not look like a temple. And where was the rest of her team? Why didn't she simply wish to be with them again? And yet, this was such a good spot for a get-away weekend. She and Tom had been looking forward to this for so long....
But...Wait, she told herself. Is that right?
"Tom," she found herself saying. "How long have we been planning this?"
"Search me," her companion said with a smile, the kind that always made it worthwhile to speak with him, no matter how little she had to say. "I'd say it was on my mind for years...but that's probably not long enough." He stopped suddenly, and stared at her with open admiration. "I can't believe I've let it go so long without seeing sunlight in your hair, or watching you move across the green grass. This is where you belong."
"It's where we both belong," she said firmly, holding out her hand for him to take. And he did, gently, but with strength, as they walked the rest of the way to the simple structure.
It was a small A-frame cabin, painted gray, with flower beds and a wishing well with real water inside.
The Rockwellian scene filled Kathryn with a sense of contentment. She smiled. From the moment they saw the brochure they knew this was where they wanted to be. She inhaled deeply, drinking in the scent of dew and pine. The sensation left her giddy, drunk with nature.
"Tom, have I told you lately how much I love you?" she murmured.
Tom smiled again and gently caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. "Given the rest of the night, I'm sure you will."
Katherine grinned as Tom's hand moved to stroke her hair and started to lean in for a kiss. Janeway let his lips brush hers lightly then ducked away with a light laugh. At his expression of mock hurt, she grabbed his hand and tugged him towards the cabin door. "Come on. Let's go inside."
"Oh no, you don't get away that easily." Tom pulled back on her arm and drew her into an embrace. He didn't pull away until he had explored every recess of her mouth. And they stopped only when breathing became an urgent necessity. Kathryn turned, and, leaning slightly backwards, eyes closed, could still feel the pressure of his lips on hers.
Paris languidly led his Kathryn to the cabin's threshold. There he paused and bent down to pick an exotic pink flower for his love. Janeway laughed. Pink flowers weren't usually her style, but this suited the moment beautifully.
"What will you think of next?" she asked playfully, running fingertips through his light brown hair.
And there was a nudge in her mind, something...cold.
Something wasn't right.
And yet, when her lover smiled, what could be wrong?
Chakotay tried to block Seven and Harry from the worst of the fall. He was on the bottom anyway. There was no reason they should all have their bones broken. But when they hit the level below, it was on a steep incline, and rather than being broken to bits, they were hurled forward.
They were tumbling now, over and around each other. Someone's elbow caught him in the jaw, and the pain was as cruel as it was pointless. Kim was screaming, and Chakotay wanted to join him.
The incline leveled slightly, and then, almost as a ball of arms and legs, they tumbled through another opening in the ice, and settled on a slick floor. All three quickly tried getting up amid a confusion of legs and arms as the pit they fell in shifted to form another set of ice walls.
The shimmering around them left them blinded for a few seconds to find, upon opening their eyes once more, a new set of corridors leading off into various directions. A series of dull glowing spots leading down one path immediately caught their attention.
"I guess it's our path of bread crumbs," Harry spoke.
"Bread crumbs? I do not see the relevance to our situation, Ensign."
Harry glanced at Seven's puzzled expression and tried to explain:
"A path designed to lead us "home." The reference started from a children's my mom used to read..."
Harry was looking behind Chakotay, and the others turned to look as well. The wall was liquefying again, but instead of the clear water running off the ice to which they had become accustomed, there was a slight pink hue. As they watched, the red color increased, until the wall seemed to be bleeding. The blood did not re-freeze, however, and began to pool at their feet. They backed away instinctively.
The blood reached the first of the glowing stones, and then seemed somehow to pull back.
"That's enough," Chakotay said grimly. "We're obviously supposed to follow the stones. I say we go this way instead." The others moved with him as he walked directly away from the path marked with the stones.
And the floor fell out from under them.
Once again they were falling, then sliding, tumbling over each other, collecting bruises, trying to control their journey somehow...
Until they spilled out again into an icy corridor, and saw the blood, and the stones once more.
"We can't be here again," Kim objected. "We traveled down the whole time."
"Dimensional shifting may well be a part of this maze," Seven noted.
"No kidding," Chakotay said, picking himself up.
"I think I've sprained my ankle," Kim noted quietly. He tested it. "No, but I did twist it badly. I might slow you up. Sorry."
Chakotay shook his head. "We're not going anywhere anyway."
He stood firmly, arms crossed, a declaration that he would not be led around by blood and false floors.
And the ceiling caved in.
When it was over, Harry muttered a curse and pushed off the debris piled on top of him. These surprises were just getting better and better. "Commander? Seven? You okay?"
"Despite having several pounds of ice rock fall on me, Ensign, I have no further damage," Seven replied. "Have you sustained additional injury?"
"No. Looks I escaped this time, fortunately. A broken rib and a sprained ankle are enough for me, thank you." He brushed himself. "How about you, Commander?"
No response was forthcoming. "Commander?" he asked a little more loudly and insistently. Still no reply.
"Commander Chakotay, are you here?" Seven called out.
Harry began to dig through the rubble. A grim image of Chakotay being bludgeoned with a piece of falling ice filled him with dread. "Chakotay, if you're okay, please say something! Seven, give me a hand."
Seven promptly joined in the effort. When Chakotay again did not respond, Harry feared the worst and dug even harder.
Chakotay was not buried under the ice. In fact, Chakotay had disappeared altogether.
"Curious," Seven remarked.
Harry was befuddled. If Chakotay wasn't here, where did he go? Was he another hallucination? "This is getting weird."
"We're Starfleet officers," Janeway's voice echoed around them. "Weird is part of the job."
Seven looked at Kim in surprise. The ensign had a most intriguing look on his face.
"Is there something, Harry?" she asked, not noticing that she used his first name.
Kim noticed, and filed it privately away. Aloud, he told her, "I thought that. Captain Janeway said that to me once, about weird being part of the job. I thought that, and then it happened."
"You're suggesting that you may have caused this latest auditory illusion," Seven noted archly.
"Yes, that's what I'm saying." When she sniffed slightly, he turned to her, a challenge. "You do it. You think of something, something very vivid, and see what happens."
Seven started picturing a catacomb of chambers. Regeneration units. Her thoughts forced the blurry images to take a more sharper appearance.
But just as she the scene was completing it shifted to one of a Starfleet ship, her thoughts taking a turn from familiar territory to unknown. The corridors were familiar, but something wasn't quite right. She had never been on this ship -- or had she?
This was an older memory, much older. A child started skipping towards her. Long blond hair was braided while the girl happily continued towards her. Seven stared in disbelief at this girl. What was a child doing on a military vessel? Then the girl stopped skipping and stood only a few meters away from Seven. Harry stepped up alongside Seven and watched as the girl's appearance changed before his eyes.
The sight of the transformation was astounding, yet familiar. Harry searched his memory for a reference from his studies at the Academy, but failed. The young girl appeared to age rapidly, but not exactly; her jumpsuit altered it itself automatically as the girl's body expanded, while her braid remained proportionally the same size. Suddenly Harry recognized who the girl was, and his breath left him, astounded by the striking similarity. Seven remained surprisingly composed as she stared at the near-reflection of herself.
"Hello there," the reflection said, a brilliant smile breaking her face. "My name's Anika. What's yours?"
It was eerie. Harry was looking at Seven, but not Seven. Gone were the Borg implants and the sterile personality he associated with her, but she was unmistakably the same person. This was Seven's full-fledged Human persona, a woman full of warmth and free of the tortured existence of the Borg Collective.
"I'm, uh, Ensign Harry Kim, and this is Seven."
Anika titled her head at Seven, her smile disappearing. "Yes, I know who she is."
"Why are you here?" Seven asked.
Was it Harry's imagination, or did Seven sound even cooler than usual?
A hint of Anika's smile returned. "Don't you know? You brought me here."
"This was not what I was envisioning."
Harry didn't know if Seven were speaking to him or Anika, or both of them.
"Well, maybe not consciously, but deep down this is what you really wanted to see," Anika answered. "What it would be like if the Collective hadn't taken you from the Raven and robbed you of your life, your soul?"
"To deliberate over impossible circumstances would be irrelevant," Seven responded tightly. "I cannot alter what was done."
"I wouldn't be here if you weren't thinking about it. Admit it, there is a little part of you that wishes the Borg had never found you."
"The Borg are superior beings. They made me stronger when they adapted me to the Collective. What I am now I owe to them."
"You owe them nothing!" Anika snapped angrily. "All they did was make you afraid of yourself. You're afraid of being human again because you automatically you assume that becoming anything other than a Borg drone is to become weaker. But can't you see how much you have to gain from this? Your own mind, your own voice," and Anika looked at Harry wistfully, "your own emotions. You have so much to look forward to. You think your encounter with the Borg has made you stronger as an individual, but you couldn't be more wrong. The Borg have left you a fragile shell of your true self."
"No." The sound of Seven's raw emotion surprised Harry. He turned to look at her. She was trembling. "I am not weak." Seven advanced on Anika, her temper boiling over. "I am not weak!" She swung a fist out at the apparition, and Anika's form suddenly dispersed like a cloud of confetti and disappeared. Seven howled in frustration, her anger not yet spent. She found herself beginning to cry with all the pent-up emotion, and before she knew it she was sobbing. "I am not...weak."
Harry caught a lump in his throat watching Seven in anguish. It was so unusual not to see her in a rock-steady state. He walked up beside her, reaching out supportively to grasp her on the shoulder. "Seven, it's all right now. She's gone. She can't hurt you anymore." Seven flinched at the contact and spun around defensively, ready to strike again. Harry backed up a step, not eager to repeat his experience with Seven's augmented limb. "Seven, it's me, Harry!"
Seven choked back a sob. "Ensign Kim. I am...sorry. I...did not realize...."
"That's okay, Seven. No harm done. Are you all right?"
Her emotional recovery was commendable, although her nanites probably had a lot to do with it, Harry thought. Once she dried her eyes, Harry couldn't even tell she had just been crying. "I am much better now, Ensign."
"For what it's worth, Seven. I think she was wrong to say that. You're not weak, just different...unique."
Seven looked a little surprised. "Thank you, Ensign."
The first thing Commander Chakotay noticed was the painful throbbing in his head. He was sprawled flat on his back, feeling the cold of the floor, but strangely there didn't seem to be any ice piled atop his chest.
He was reluctant to open his eyes and see it there, but be unable to feel it. He hoped the fall hadn't paralyzed him irreparably. Chakotay wished he had never gotten out of bed this morning.
The cold around him vanished, and instead he was snug and secure under his covers in what certainly felt like his own bed back on Voyager.
Oh well," he thought, eyes still closed, only one way to find out for sure.
Chakotay felt something heavy crawl up on his chest.
His eyes snapped open to find that a slightly moist nose was poised over his face. Blue and furry, it was some sort of animal. What was it doing in his quarters? For that matter, what was *he* doing in his own quarters? The creature sat back on its haunches, balanced on Chakotay's chest. It felt surprisingly good, its weight warm and comforting as its fingers rested on his shoulders.
Fingers? Chakotay thought. Maybe this wasn't an animal, after all. The being's face was calm as it studied him. Yes, he could see that the features were fixed into a thoughtful expression. He felt a faint tickling at the back of his mind, as if something were shifting through his brain without his permission.
Yet he had no desire to stop what was happening, only curious. The alien's thin face leaned over his, looking deeply into his eyes.
Interesting you are. Those with you. Chakotay concentrated on the soft words, trying to catch and remember them before they floated away.
Who are you? Chakotay asked.
An unoriginal question. You are not as amusing as I’d hoped.
Amusing? Is this all a game to you then?
No. Not a game. Never a game. Serious. Important.
What is? What’s so important?
You are just learning. Your being here is proof of that at least.
Does this have to do with me appearing suddenly in my quarters? Or at least what seems like them?
Yesss. But your control is unfocused. You must learn if you -- your friends -- are to succeed.
Chakotay was starting to getting frustrated. He almost yelled, "What are you talking about?!"
The alien recoiled, hissing in distaste at the outburst.
Go then! I shall help you no more. Understanding fails you. Join your friends. Tell them. Your Janeway shows most promise. Find her.
The next thing Chakotay knew, he was lying on a top of freezing rubble. Kim and Seven were running towards him, and everything hurt.
Paris leaned over her on the sofa, enjoying the firelight in her hair just as much as he'd loved the sunlight. In fact, he loved her hair in any light. And her skin, and the way she smiled, and touching her...
In fact, he was growing ridiculously fond of every part of her.
"You feel so good against me," he murmured, sliding his hands down her trim, soft sides.
Janeway agreed, then realized she should change the pronouns, then just gave up everything she was feeling into a kiss that went on and on.
Tom's lips were so delicate, sculpted into perfection, and his golden form seemed to burn under her fingers.
Something about him made her think of motion and music, of flight and of laughter. She felt incomplete when he wasn't with her, and now, held tightly in his arms, pressed up against him as closely as their increasingly inconvenient clothes would allow, she seemed to be completely whole.
She was herself more than she had ever been before, and despite the problems with their ranks and sations on the ship, she had no regrets, no concerns.
"You make me happy, Tom," she whispered, unashamed of the tear that escaped, smiling as he kissed it away.
"I'd do anything for you," he whispered back, a private vow he'd shared with her before. "To know that you want me to touch you makes me proud, makes me...I can't...there aren't words for how I feel."
"Then stop talking," she groaned, plundering those perfect lips again and again while her hands finally worked under his shirt to stroke the red-gold hair of his chest.
He growled deeply in his throat and pressed her into the cushions with the weight of his body, wanting more, needing more, never having enough of her.
His hands gripped her hips, positioning her, and then he raised his right hand, so gently, to cup her breast as he placed a line of reverent kisses along her jaw line, up her chin, over her forehead.
Her lovely, smooth forehead.
Her smooth forehead.
Wait a minute, he thought, or tried to think, through the red haze of lust and love.
He kissed the curved plane of warm, soft skin, and frowned. There was something missing.
And her smell, something about that was wrong too.
"Tom?" she breathed, and the husky sexuality of it almost got him to kiss her again. But then she continued, "Tom, something's wrong."
They met each others eyes, then blinked, trying to remember. Paris suddenly realized where one of his hands was and jerked it away from his captain's -- "Ohmygod" he chuffed.
"Uh, Captain, I'm...I'm...I'm confused." He raked a hand through his hair and they struggled to sit up.
"You know, Tom, as fond as I am of you, I don't think we did this before, at least, not when we weren't lizards."
"Commander, I think Seven and I have figured it out. Our thoughts control the maze."
"I think you have something there, Harry. The first order of business then is to find the Captain and Lt. Paris."
Seven and Kim helped the commander to his feet and they set off.
"Okay, picture the captain in your mind. Maybe that will help us find her," Chakotay said.
Harry tried, but his urgency was more for his friend than the captain. Images of Tom kept coming into his mind.
Seven had her thoughts in order, though. Find the captain and picture the woman standing confidently on the bridge.
Chakotay, Kim and Seven came suddenly upon a cabin. Right there in the maze.
Chakotay stepped to the edge of the ice maze and gingerly nudged the green grass with his toe. A light breeze brought the scent of clover.
"Well, " Seven queried from behind him. "Do we proceed?"
Chakotay looked back at Seven and Harry, who were peering over his shoulder at the field of flowers and the small, but inviting cabin.
"Beats the hell out this maze," he said and walked out into the sunlight.
As they approached the cabin, the sun broke out from behind a cloud, bathing the trio in yellow-gold light. Harry knelt and cupped a bluebell growing in the meadow.
"Sir, these are Earth plants, and the cabin's logs are redwood. I don't think we're out of the maze quite yet."
Chakotay shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe not, but it's a lot more pleasant." He opened the cabin door and stepped in.
As his eyes became accustomed to the darkness of the cabin, he was amazed to see the Captain and Lieutenant Paris sitting, half-naked, at opposite ends of a faded sofa.
Both seemed to be in a state of shock.
Well, Chakotay thought, Paris was half-naked. Kathryn just looked mussed, and her lips were swollen, as though she'd been kissing someone petty thoroughly.
The world shimmered.
Paris screamed.
"Grab his hand!" Janeway ordered, trying to reach her helmsman as his fingers began to slip from the rocks.
Seven and Kim were trying to reach from the other side, and Chakotay watched, separated by an ice wall, as they failed.
Paris' fingers slipped further, and the chasm below him promised certain death if he couldn't get a toe-hold or a better grip.
"Hang on, Tom!" Kim was yelling, trying to use Seven's arm as a hold as he stretched forward. "I'm going to get you! Hang on!"
But the icy cliff was too slippery, and Paris began to slide away from the broken ledge, began to plummet towards him death.
"No!" Chakotay shouted. No! He wasn't thinking this! He wasn't wishing for this!
"Chakotay?"
The commander opened his eyes. They were all back in the cabin. Paris was standing in front of him, Janeway by his side.
"What just happened?"
"I...I think I was falling from a cliff," Paris said, dazed,
"Yes, we were...you were..." Kim said. Then he shook his head to clear it. They all looked around. They were back in the cabin.
"We were the victims of another illusion," Seven said, "an illusion in which Lt. Paris was almost killed, brought about by the Commander's jealousy over seeing that he and Captain Janeway had been intimate."
"We weren't intimate!" Paris objected. "We just...uh...kissed a little."
"Chakotay..." Janeway whispered, shaking her head slightly as she put a hand on his shoulder.
"It was a knee-jerk reaction," he muttered, clearly embarrassed. "Sorry, Tom."
Paris shrugged. "Hey, I'm just glad as hell the Captain and I remembered who we really are before we did anything B'Elanna would kill me over."
A ghastly chuckle echoed from what seemed everywhere. "Your species does show some rather base qualities."
"Where are you? Show yourself." Janeway quickly closed up her open uniform and glanced around. The location of the speaker wasn't clear.
"Everywhere. Nowhere." was the reply.
"What are you trying to prove here?" Chakotay demanded tersely. "We deserve the right to know what is going on." Chakotay concentrated his angry thoughts at what this alien had done to his captain into one central location.
The air started glowing as the wind picked up. The delicate flowers were swept away and the ground become ice once more.
Janeway shouted, "What’s happening?"
"I’m don’t know, but I’m sure we’re not going to like it very much!" Paris yelled as the formerly pleasant scenery dissolved around them.
They now stood in a darkened cavern. Harry shuffled his feet nervously and the sound carried, echoing.
This chamber must be huge, Harry thought. He and his companions were in a pocket of intense light beyond which they couldn't see. From where that light was coming or who was making it, he had no idea. He squinted out into the surrounding gloom. He couldn't make out any shapes in the distance, he could only feel the wind that buffeted them all as it swept through the ice chamber.
Standing in the middle of their confused group, his captain thrust her chin defiantly up in the air.
"Whoever you are, show yourself! We're tired of playing your little games."
Mocking thoughts boomed through their minds. "No games were played here today, Janeway of Voyager."
"Then why do you keep us here against our will? Being examined like bugs for your amusement? How long will you keep us here?" Janeway shouted out against the darkness.
"Your crew has done well, Captain." This time the voice was not in their minds. It was a light, reedy voice that came from somewhere in the room, echoing of the walls, making it difficult to pinpoint. "Your ordeal is coming to an end. One test remains."
The wind blew louder, howling, as the chamber flooded with artificial light.
Janeway couldn't suppress a soft gasp. The sight was breathtaking. The crystalline chamber glittered with the flame of a thousand stars, reflecting of a myriad of delicate icicles. At the far wall gleamed an altar of intricately sculpted ice. On the altar sat what could only be the sacred chalice of ice. In front of the altar sat the small, pale blue alien she recognized. Janeway and Chakotay exchanged a glance, and she put a hand on his shoulder as she realized what his expression meant.
"You've seen this alien before haven't you? It wasn't just part of my hallucinations?"
"Yes, the last time I saw him was in my quarters, or at least what looked like my quarters..."
The sound of chucking drifted to them on the now light breeze. "I assure you. I am real. Come now, approach me."
They walked quickly across the frozen floor until they stood in front of the blue creature. It blinked its large blue eyes at them.
"So you’re the ice god?" Harry asked, astounded.
"Me? Oh! Not quite. Not quite," the alien chuckled.
The alien's face sobered instantly. "You brought yourselves here. Is this where you wish to be?"
"Wish to be here?" Janeway demanded. "Are you going to tell us that your little maze was of our own making? Because I'm not buying it."
The alien shook his head. "No no. The path to the chalice is not a wish, but a test. You have passed the test. Now your wishes are paramount. If you wish to stay and perform the tribute, you may. If you wish to leave, you may."
"Before we make any decisions, we want to understand what's been happening to us," Chakotay stated flatly. "How have you been controlling our reality this way?"
The alien shrugged. "A simple matter of telepathically controlled matter-energy conversion, similar to your own transportation device."
"A mentally controlled holodeck?" Kim asked.
"Yes, that makes sense," Janeway said. "But you planted not only images in the 'deck,' but thoughts in our minds."
"You created your own thoughts as you tried to take control. The test was in your ability to overcome the desire to make your own wishes come true through illusion."
"You mean, to turn our backs on the offer of seemingly limitless power?" Seven asked.
The alien smiled. "Yes."
"A highly imperfect test," Seven noted. "The images you selected were far from tempting."
"Do you not wish to meet that little girl you once were, Seven of Nine?" the alien asked. "Do you truly not wish to know Anika?"
As Seven blinked at him, Kim stepped forward slightly. "Is this the chalice you told us about?"
"Wait, Harry," Janeway said, raising a hand. "If you really want one of us to bleed into your chalice, what was the point of the test? To see if we were worthy? Worthy of what? Tell me why I shouldn't return to my ship and shoot at any of your ships that come near us. Explain to me your justification for using us like this."
The alien sighed. "You want nothing more from us than safe passage through our space, do you not, Captain Janeway"
"Yes."
"But we have this space. Our Empire has reigned here for over a thousand years. Even the Borg will not defeat us."
Seven raised an eyebrow.
"And what is our Empire good for if we do nothing with the power we have? Yet who are we to unleash the God of Ice or the God of Fire upon others? Only those who approach, who wish something from us, only those can we know, can we reward, or punish. Our gods demand it. Our need to be of use demands it. You have proven yourself worthy of all that we can offer you. If you had not, we would have turned our backs on you and your needs. For if you had failed, if you could not relinquish the chance to have your dark desires made real, then our help to you would add to the darkness of the universe. You demand to know why we test you, and yet, how else can we know if we ourselves are worthy for wanting to help?"
"And the ships you sent against us?" Janeway asked.
"They were illusions, Captain. We need no real ships to protect our space. This technology gives us all the protection we need from those who would do us harm."
The alien glanced over at Seven and said, "Yes, even the Borg."
"You may leave here now, Captain. Your communications devices will operate, and your ship will be protected until you reach our border."
The Captain tapped her combadge and was pleased beyond words to hear Tuvok's voice. She looked thoughtfully at the alien, then walked towards the chalice. Looking in the alien's eyes, she said, "I offer my blood." And held out her hand.
Chakotay frowned and followed suit. Seven, Paris, and Kim quickly did the same.
The alien flicked one of its long fingers along their outstretched hands. The blood pooled and poured with surprising quickness, coating and filling the chalice. Their mingled fluids froze.
"I assume that you now have sufficient proof of our purity?" Janeway asked coolly.
"The chalice does not measure your purity, my dear Captain Janeway; it measures ours." The alien pressed his hands together, bowed, and in a puff of smoke disappeared.
The away team look at each other a minute.
"Short and to the point," Chakotay commented.
The captain tapped her communicator again.
"Janeway to Tuvok: Energize."
The end.