A/N: This is a sequel to "The Captain's Holiday". There are three chapters plus epilogue, which are already written. But I originally posted this elsewhere, and formatting for FFN takes a bit of doing in between little things like work, visiting in-laws, and paying bills, so expect a chapter a day.

With thanks to Jay for her suggestions on how to crash the Delta Flyer and other things; and to Lorelei for the dangerous equipment. Any technical errors found in this story are entirely my own fault.

DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns Star Trek: Voyager and all her denizens. I am just letting them play somewhere fun for a change. Personal satisfaction and the appreciation of my readers are the only profit that I will gain.

IIIIIIIIII

Barren rock moving in too fast - her brain did not truly register the movement. Other details, though, pushed through her awareness with painfully slow clarity. The phrase "ion storm" printed itself in her mind in blazing letters. She helplessly watched her hands fumble the controls of the Delta Flyer as the vessel tore itself out of her grip. "Brace for impact!" she shouted, maybe a moment too late for the warning to have any effect.

Maybe no amount of bracing would have shielded them from the blow. Captain Janeway snapped against the back of the pilot's chair then flew out of it, falling against the sensor console next to her.

Janeway tried not to scream. She hated losing control in that fashion, but the air tore out of her lungs through her voice box without her consent. Over her own scream she heard Commander Chakotay yelling in pain. Too quickly he fell silent. Instinct told her he needed help and needed it immediately, just like it told her that her own body would still function.

Crawling under a console, Janeway found a medkit. It had been smashed open and its contents scattered. Lightning quick, she swiped everything back in to it and jammed it closed again. Stumbling to her feet, she made her way to the aft chamber of the small craft.

She could see Chakotay sprawled against the far wall, blood pouring from a wound on his side. His body was covered with the debris of what had been a thoroughly equipped science station. As she crossed the room, her eyes took in the details. The door of the sonic autoclave lay on edge across his left arm, 4 centimeters below the elbow. That was where the bleeding was. He had a gash on one side of his nose, and blood poured from that as well. His face was unresponsive, eyelids slit open; he was unconscious.

Kneeling beside the wounded man, finally the one detail that her mind tried to avoid sank in. The door of the sonic autoclave was not on Chakotay's arm. It was in his arm - "gods, no! Through his arm!" her mind screamed. Stomach churning violently, she clamped down her own reactions and focused on what she had to do.

Medkit flung down next to Chakotay, Janeway grabbed at a plaskin patch and reached for the autoclave. Ignoring her heaving stomach, she forced herself to think how to remove it and stop the swift flow of blood before Chakotay had lost too much. One look at the medical tricorder told her she was on her own. The screen was smashed. She used a laser cutter to tear his uniform back from the edge of the wound and wedged the patch as far down between the door and stump as possible. Then she sealed the edges of the patch around Chakotay's arm. The seal was not complete but most of the bleeding stopped.

Janeway gingerly tried using the door to push the arm out of the way. Teeth clenched and swallowing hard, she found that it would not come clean away. Janeway cut through the last millimeters of skin and muscle. Finally able to push the door and severed limb away, she used a smaller plaskin patch to complete the seal over the stump of Chakotay's arm.

Refusing to shudder as she touched the disembodied arm, Janeway applied another patch to the raw end of it. The hatch to the stasis chamber hung open and crooked on its hinges, so the arm could not be preserved there. Ice. She needed Ice.

The corner of the room where the replicator had been installed looked relatively undamaged. "Computer, give me 5 liters of ice," ordered Janeway.

"Please specify crushed, cubes, or block," the computer replied.

'Wonderful time for the replicator system to be anal,' she thought. Aloud she said, "Cubes."

"Working."

"Working? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Request will take approximately one hour seventeen minutes to process."

"Why would it take so long to make ice?"

"Accessing files for template of molecular structure requires approximately one hour sixteen minutes at current data transfer speed. Replication of requested..."

"Forget I asked."

Janeway knew that the limb had a limited amount of time before cellular degradation became too acute for re-attachment to be possible, but could not recall a specific window of opportunity. She had not been happy about preserving it on ice yet felt that would give them a chance - either for rescue or for finding another means of keeping the arm 'fresh'. She shuddered involuntarily as the word crossed her mind.

There had to be some other way to preserve it. Clear thought would come if she kept working. While clearing the other debris from him, Janeway examined Chakotay more closely, mentally cataloguing his other wounds. The gash on his nose, pulse fast and weak, likely concussion and internal bleeding, shock, masssive bloodloss, so far no broken bones. That is, no other broken bones.

The dermal regenerator functioned well enough to seal the gash. She found some survival packs and used a couple blankets to soak up as much of the blood as possible. Using the laser cutter again, she tore cushions off the cockpit seats to prop up Chakotay's legs. The remaining blanket she covered him with, tucking it snuggly around his inert body.

Janeway located a tricorder and scanned Chakotay with it. It would be unable to give the precise diagnostic information that a proper medical tricorder would, but she could use it to monitor his vital signs. Maybe with a little tweaking, she could wrest a bit more useful information from it. That would have to come later. She had a lot of work to do.

Not trusting ship's computer to give timely and accurate damage reports, she surveyed the ship's main systems using the tricorder: Life support - functional if not completely intact; replicator - all but one of the data subprocessors shot; warp engine - minor damage to the containment field housing due to the impact, but not a danger yet; navigation - dead in the water; shields - down to thirty-one percent, stressed by the force of impact, but the system itself was online and functional; weapons - the phaser bank had been smashed and would have to be completely rebuilt; the ship's computer - more functional than not, but several key data transfer nodes had been depolarized by the flood of negative ions in the storm; communications - a plasma overload had done more damage to on board transmitters than to subspace transmitters but there was not enough power to send any signal far; transporter - functional, data tranfer at approximately eighty-seven percent efficiency, enough to provide accurate, if limited, transports.

All in all, they were lucky to have survived the crash so much intact. She let the order for ice stand. They would be needing water, and that might be their only source until Janeway could get data transfer flowing again. The transporter, that was it! The idea flashed through her mind like a flood and with manic energy she flew at the transporter controls. Programming a small item site-to-site transport, she initiated then suspended in mid-beam a transport of the severed limb. Checking transporter status to be sure the pattern buffers were holding the cargo well, Janeway took a deep breath and released it slowly.

Her own injuries began intruding on her consciousness. Her left shoulder and arm were beginning to stiffen and ache intensely. Her head hurt, but not as badly as some of her migraines. Ribs on both sides caught in pain when she moved too quickly or breathed too deeply. Her left knee was sore to the touch, the skin abraded. Deep bruising on the knee made it ever harder to stand on it. Still she had too much to do to stop and fuss about her own aches and pains. Once more she checked Chakotay's vital signs. Seeing that he was pretty weak but seemingly stabilized, Captain Janeway dared to walk back to the cockpit. She had to set up a distress call either from the ship or by sending out a beacon.

IIIIIIIIIIIII

Rerouting a functioning plasma conduit to power subspace communications took a few more minutes than she had anticipated, but Chakotay did not begin stirring back to consciousness until after she recorded her distress call. Depending on their relative position to both the ion storm and Voyager, they could expect help within six hours. If the storm still raged and was in position to interfere with the transmission, Voyager would know nothing of their need until they missed the scheduled rendezvous. They had planned to survey the asteroid field - looking for dilithium and various metals - and take ore samples for another twelve hours, then meet the larger ship eight hours after that. it could be as long as three days before Voyager would find them.

She heard him moan softly, and hurried to his side. Kneeling down, she said, "Chakotay? Don't try to move."

His eyes gained focus and opened a bit. His voice was weak as he asked, "What..." Strength failed him and he did not finish his question.

"Hush, now. We got caught in a freak ion storm. I lost control of the Delta Flyer and we crashed on an asteroid. We seem to be alright for now, but you lost a lot of blood. And I'm not sure the extent of your injuries." She restrained him gently when he tried to move. "Stay still Chakotay."

"My arm - it's killing me. Is it broken?"

"You could say that." Janeway reached for the hypospray of pain blocker and injected it into his neck. Then she restrained him again as he started moving his arm. "No, Chakotay. Don't try to look at it."

"What is it, Kathryn? Why can't I look?"

"Just don't. You were wounded badly, and lost a lot of blood. I can't afford to lose you to shock. That's all." She tried to speak in a confident, reassuring manner, but to him who knew her so well the minute hesitation in her voice spoke clearly.

She caught his eyes and held his glance. He began to ask again, but she interrupted him. "No. Please Chakotay. I need you to trust me now. Don't look at your injuries. And don't ask again."

Redirecting conversation, she said,"Some vacation, huh, Commander?"

Chakotay let his question go. He followed her line of thought and said, "That's the last time I go on a boat ride with you."