Chapter Four… this is it! There is no more!
The Saundian ship rocked with weapon fire.
For the moment Tom remained in the command station, seated with his hands restrained and numb. Now the Sandian's would surrender.
"Fire!" The yellow-eyed idiot barked. The red-eyes ran to the command stations and yellow-eyes stared at the screen, with an expression Tom could only guess equated to seething. No one paid attention to the prisoner.
Of coarse he couldn't do much with his hands tied and useless. But... he stood up. A sharp pain coursed down his spine, apparently from the damn shock stick, but it didn't stop him. Succumb to an annoying cramp, or fight? Hard decision, not. He took a run for the corridor.
Where are you going Tom? He asked himself. Good question. The corridor ran in two directions, left and right. Neither direction held any meaning to him. And if he did run, then what? Hide for a few minutes and be totally ineffective until they find you? Not a good plan. He looked again at yellow-eyes. He took another run, this time straight for the alien. He didn't seriously believe he'd be able to win a fight like this, but who could tell? He'd gotten lucky before.
He hit yellow-eyes in the back with his shoulder.
And fell backwards. So much for luck. At least last time when he used his fists he'd been able to elicit some sort of reaction. This time, nothing. Unless you count yellow-eyes attention something. Not good.
Tom scrambled backwards. Yellow-eyes stepped forwards with the shock stick. Weapons fire rocked the alien ship again; all the aliens stumbled to the right. Tom struggled to get further away, but without the use of his arms, he could not regain his feet.
...
B'Elanna felt transporter energy engulf her body. She seethed the whole hour of Tom's absence; Klingon curses she hadn't even thought of in over ten years came back to her with surprising ease. Even the original variations she created felt satisfying on her lips. How dare he try to protect her!
Stupid headstrong emotionally stunted human P'tak! A targ had better sense then he did!
To Protect her!!! The nerve! She'd show him just how much protection she needed from cowardly beady eyed aliens like these! Protect her! Tom would be the one needing protection....
She embraced the tingly feel of what others described as a thousand Myrikan ants crawling all over their body. The ship rocked again from weapons fire, and she knew weapons fire when she felt it. No other sensation in space felt quite like it, and every hand onboard Voyager understood it intimately. What kind of trouble did Tom manage to instigate now?
She would have asked him, but all words froze on her lips. She now stood in large room of consuls (maybe the alien's equivalent to a bridge) surrounded by about ten large hostile looking beady-eyed aliens. Her attention, however, encompassed none of them.
"Tom?" She moved closer. His form remained still, but the way he laid showed her only his back, his front lay towards the wall with his outfit hiding most of his body.
As she reached out her hand, her imagination worked over time. All the hostility she felt moments ago, vanished, replaced with a single hollow fear. She felt the sensation of falling. This couldn't happen, not to us. I can't lose him now, she thought, even as her earlier assessment of him held; a stupid frail human with no clue of his limitations. He insisted on keeping up with her in everything, and he insisted on protecting her from things he should be seeking her protection of. No. This couldn't happen.
She marched past the aliens who at the moment remained oddly still and touched his arm with her hand. His body, through the clothing felt warm. She rolled him onto his back and watched a metal restraint bracelet fall broken to the ground beside him. "Fortune favors the foolish. Right?" She asked quietly.
His eyes opened as much as they could beyond the swelling, but he looked away from her towards the wall and didn't answer.
"Tom, what happened?" B'Elanna held him closely afraid he might pass out.
He coughed. "Negotiations failed."
B'Elanna took a deep breath. A calming breath she learned from Tuvok, meant for mediation but over time integrated into more practical uses. Deep breaths, center her energies, and focus on the battle ahead. Moments like these made her truly appreciate her Klingon heritage. To fight, to taste the blood of her enemy, the anticipation of the carnage ahead sang loudly through her veins.
The ten large beady-eyed aliens recognized blood lust and adjusted their hold on the shock sticks. B'Elanna felt the world open up to her, as though her spirit expanded large enough to fill the entire room. She felt, rather then heard Tom moving behind her. She smelt the fear of her enemy.
Another volley of weapons fire rocked the ship. Several consuls, now unmanned, sparked and smoked but the aliens did not waver their attention from the woman standing before them. B'Elanna did not move as Tom slowly walked around and beside her. He did not come in between her and the enemy.
Seeing him move, one of the aliens advanced threateningly. Tom stopped, and waited. He'd seen B'Elanna like this before.
The alien didn't stand a chance. In a fury of limbs and a harsh guttural battle cry, B'Elanna now stood holding the shock stick over the prone form of the beaten beady-eyed alien. Tom resumed his slow pace towards the damaged consuls. He looked at the yellow-eyed leader.
"You will hail my ship now."
Yellow-eye hesitated. B'Elanna stepped forwards towards him (for lack of a more specific gender). He stepped up to the consul. The screen reappeared with Janeway seated comfortably in her command chair. "Surrender." Her voice held steel.
"Do it." Tom ordered after only a couple seconds of inaction, and yellow-eye keyed in a sequence. Tom watched, and then turned towards the screen. "Shields are off-line Captain."
With a barely perceptible nod she stood and walked towards the screen. "Two to beam aboard." She ordered.
B'Elanna casually tossed the shock stick to the ground, and spit on it. Moments later she felt the same transport energy encompass her yet again. When the glow subsided, she stood in the transporter bay of Voyager beside Tom.
Deep breathes. She watched the Doctor advanced quickly, wrapping an arm around Tom in an effort to help him remain upright.
Center the energy.
Release.
The song in her veins subsided. Tom. She hurried to her mate's side. They were safe now. She still felt pissed at the fact he felt he needed to protect her, but she felt the anger swiftly evolving into pride. The lecture would still come, but for now she just felt happy to be home.
The end!
Please take pity on me and let me know how you liked the story...
The Saundian ship rocked with weapon fire.
For the moment Tom remained in the command station, seated with his hands restrained and numb. Now the Sandian's would surrender.
"Fire!" The yellow-eyed idiot barked. The red-eyes ran to the command stations and yellow-eyes stared at the screen, with an expression Tom could only guess equated to seething. No one paid attention to the prisoner.
Of coarse he couldn't do much with his hands tied and useless. But... he stood up. A sharp pain coursed down his spine, apparently from the damn shock stick, but it didn't stop him. Succumb to an annoying cramp, or fight? Hard decision, not. He took a run for the corridor.
Where are you going Tom? He asked himself. Good question. The corridor ran in two directions, left and right. Neither direction held any meaning to him. And if he did run, then what? Hide for a few minutes and be totally ineffective until they find you? Not a good plan. He looked again at yellow-eyes. He took another run, this time straight for the alien. He didn't seriously believe he'd be able to win a fight like this, but who could tell? He'd gotten lucky before.
He hit yellow-eyes in the back with his shoulder.
And fell backwards. So much for luck. At least last time when he used his fists he'd been able to elicit some sort of reaction. This time, nothing. Unless you count yellow-eyes attention something. Not good.
Tom scrambled backwards. Yellow-eyes stepped forwards with the shock stick. Weapons fire rocked the alien ship again; all the aliens stumbled to the right. Tom struggled to get further away, but without the use of his arms, he could not regain his feet.
...
B'Elanna felt transporter energy engulf her body. She seethed the whole hour of Tom's absence; Klingon curses she hadn't even thought of in over ten years came back to her with surprising ease. Even the original variations she created felt satisfying on her lips. How dare he try to protect her!
Stupid headstrong emotionally stunted human P'tak! A targ had better sense then he did!
To Protect her!!! The nerve! She'd show him just how much protection she needed from cowardly beady eyed aliens like these! Protect her! Tom would be the one needing protection....
She embraced the tingly feel of what others described as a thousand Myrikan ants crawling all over their body. The ship rocked again from weapons fire, and she knew weapons fire when she felt it. No other sensation in space felt quite like it, and every hand onboard Voyager understood it intimately. What kind of trouble did Tom manage to instigate now?
She would have asked him, but all words froze on her lips. She now stood in large room of consuls (maybe the alien's equivalent to a bridge) surrounded by about ten large hostile looking beady-eyed aliens. Her attention, however, encompassed none of them.
"Tom?" She moved closer. His form remained still, but the way he laid showed her only his back, his front lay towards the wall with his outfit hiding most of his body.
As she reached out her hand, her imagination worked over time. All the hostility she felt moments ago, vanished, replaced with a single hollow fear. She felt the sensation of falling. This couldn't happen, not to us. I can't lose him now, she thought, even as her earlier assessment of him held; a stupid frail human with no clue of his limitations. He insisted on keeping up with her in everything, and he insisted on protecting her from things he should be seeking her protection of. No. This couldn't happen.
She marched past the aliens who at the moment remained oddly still and touched his arm with her hand. His body, through the clothing felt warm. She rolled him onto his back and watched a metal restraint bracelet fall broken to the ground beside him. "Fortune favors the foolish. Right?" She asked quietly.
His eyes opened as much as they could beyond the swelling, but he looked away from her towards the wall and didn't answer.
"Tom, what happened?" B'Elanna held him closely afraid he might pass out.
He coughed. "Negotiations failed."
B'Elanna took a deep breath. A calming breath she learned from Tuvok, meant for mediation but over time integrated into more practical uses. Deep breaths, center her energies, and focus on the battle ahead. Moments like these made her truly appreciate her Klingon heritage. To fight, to taste the blood of her enemy, the anticipation of the carnage ahead sang loudly through her veins.
The ten large beady-eyed aliens recognized blood lust and adjusted their hold on the shock sticks. B'Elanna felt the world open up to her, as though her spirit expanded large enough to fill the entire room. She felt, rather then heard Tom moving behind her. She smelt the fear of her enemy.
Another volley of weapons fire rocked the ship. Several consuls, now unmanned, sparked and smoked but the aliens did not waver their attention from the woman standing before them. B'Elanna did not move as Tom slowly walked around and beside her. He did not come in between her and the enemy.
Seeing him move, one of the aliens advanced threateningly. Tom stopped, and waited. He'd seen B'Elanna like this before.
The alien didn't stand a chance. In a fury of limbs and a harsh guttural battle cry, B'Elanna now stood holding the shock stick over the prone form of the beaten beady-eyed alien. Tom resumed his slow pace towards the damaged consuls. He looked at the yellow-eyed leader.
"You will hail my ship now."
Yellow-eye hesitated. B'Elanna stepped forwards towards him (for lack of a more specific gender). He stepped up to the consul. The screen reappeared with Janeway seated comfortably in her command chair. "Surrender." Her voice held steel.
"Do it." Tom ordered after only a couple seconds of inaction, and yellow-eye keyed in a sequence. Tom watched, and then turned towards the screen. "Shields are off-line Captain."
With a barely perceptible nod she stood and walked towards the screen. "Two to beam aboard." She ordered.
B'Elanna casually tossed the shock stick to the ground, and spit on it. Moments later she felt the same transport energy encompass her yet again. When the glow subsided, she stood in the transporter bay of Voyager beside Tom.
Deep breathes. She watched the Doctor advanced quickly, wrapping an arm around Tom in an effort to help him remain upright.
Center the energy.
Release.
The song in her veins subsided. Tom. She hurried to her mate's side. They were safe now. She still felt pissed at the fact he felt he needed to protect her, but she felt the anger swiftly evolving into pride. The lecture would still come, but for now she just felt happy to be home.
The end!
Please take pity on me and let me know how you liked the story...