Disclaimers, ratings and warnings are in Part 1.
THE BADLANDERS
PART THREE
"Where are we?" Kathryn Janeway asked as she tried to lift herself, looking into the concerned eyes of Krell, the Ketarchan doctor of Voyager. Her head throbbed and her body was suffused with pain. How could she have survived? She had no idea how long she had been unconscious, no concept of time, no recognition of the familiar bulkheads of her ship.
"We're on the Liberty, under the command of Captain Chakotay," Krell replied as he cushioned her head on his lap.
Kathryn groaned once, tried to shift, crying out softly as shards of pain shot through her. Trying to lift herself from Krell was futile, so she slumped against him again, sagging with relief as the waves of agony subsided. At least her CMO survived with her. She tried to think of her crew, brave men and women who stood by her, who died for their cause, but her immediate and terrifying concern was Krell's reply.
Chakotay.
Captain Chakotay of the Liberty. They might as well be dead. How many Federation people had been lost in the Badlands, never to be seen again? Sighing, she held her fingers to her temple, not surprised to see that blood had dried on them. Giving another little moan, she touched her leg, felt the protruding bone, an action that elicited a cry from her. A picture of a renegade wild man flitted through the pain waves. A warrior who once had principles, honourable notions. A man of honour no more.
"C-Chakotay…" his name fell from her parched lips.
"Aye, Captain. The man you've been sent to capture. I am concerned."
As was she. Too many stories filtered out of the Badlands and landed on the conference tables of the Federation.
"Voyager?"
She sensed instinctively that her ship was gone. All ship's systems failed once the turbulent plasma cloud enveloped them and the Liberty fired into the cloud. She hoped, knew it was in vain to hope, but her despair had already begun to settle in her heart. She knew Voyager was gone, but she needed a verbal corroboration somehow, to establish the dreadful reality.
"I am sorry, Captain Janeway. Please, do not move. Your injuries are severe. Yes, Voyager is gone."
"Survivors?" she asked, already knowing that perhaps they were the only ones who made it.
"Only ten of us. Captain Chakotay transported us seconds before Voyager exploded."
"Oh, God..."
She wanted to cry but she felt she would never be able to shed a tear. She was beyond tears now. Her crew was gone - men and women, officers, senior officers, most who had loved ones waiting for them at home. No one who knew they were dead. If they didn't return, no one would come looking for them. Voyager was the only vessel designed and built specifically to maneuver through the Badlands. They had a brilliant pilot, one she had sprung from the Federation Penal Colony. Nick Locarno was their best, but he was the Federation bad boy, second only to... She sighed. They were in Hell. The Badlands was Hell in the universe. Not only did its cosmic properties make it impossible for ships of any major class to maneuver through its continuous plasma storms and asteroid fields, but it was home to the Maquis.
They'd heard stories from former disgruntled Maquis who made it out of the Badlands. The torture, slave trade, abuse, rapes. Every known unspeakable atrocity committed with no regard for dignity of the individuals they captured. At the vanguard of these atrocities stood one man the Federation despised for his reprehensible acts.
Chakotay.
Now they were his prisoners.
She tried to lift her head to look around her in the cargo bay. It was small, badly lit, but she could see the outlines of the others, either sitting or slumped against the bulkheads. One or two were moaning and she guessed they were injured too.
"Who - ?"
"Jenny Delaney, Captain. Ensign Harry Kim, Lieutenant Tuvok - "
"Commander Cavit?"
"I am sorry, Captain. He died. We are being denied medical treatment. Trying to set your leg here will be too stressful for you. You are in pain."
She nodded. She just touched her leg and it exploded into hellish fire. She tried to keep still this time. She had a raging thirst. Leaving them unattended was part of the ritual of torture. It couldn't be otherwise. They were denied medical treatment, food, water. Basic demands of prisoners of war. Basic demands and basic rights. She didn't think Chakotay concerned himself with their welfare.
"Has no one been here yet?" she asked him, able to lift her head fully now and sitting up against the large crate.
"No one, Captain. Captain, you know that they - "
She sighed. She knew. Everyone knew. Poor Megan Delaney had gone missing two weeks ago when the roundabout carrying ten crew was swallowed by the plasma storms on the perimeter of the notorious Hell's Passage. It was Voyager's mission to collect survivors of that disaster too. Their main aim though, was to capture Chakotay. The Federation argued if they could get him, much of the atrocities would come to a halt. He was a forceful, powerful leader and according to the disgruntled Maquis, extremely unpredictable and eccentric.
Again she emitted another long sigh. Many Starfleet officers had been subjugated, tortured, raped, then sold into slavery on home worlds on the inner perimeter of the Badlands.
It would have been no great task rescuing them from those alien worlds, but the two sectors in which those star systems were situated were protected by the cloud of plasma turbulences that formed a circle around them. It was impossible to enter the Badlands successfully from any point along its outer perimeter. Voyager tried, gambled and lost. The core was protected.
Chakotay, as the primary megalomaniac leader, protected his people.
He was the key and they had to neutralise the key element. In the meantime, there was little they could do to alleviate the plight of their people and of the Cardassians who were also the arch enemy of the Maquis.
She conceded the Federation didn't have very honourable intentions at best, but they didn't reckon with a warrior named Chakotay.
She remembered Owen Paris's words the day before she left for Deep Space Nine.
"Now, Kathryn, Chakotay will never succumb willingly. But we are trusting that you will have some influence on him. You do understand that, don't you?"
Piercing blue eyes remained locked with hers. She knew what he meant. She never wanted the mission. Never. Not to bring Chakotay back. Owen Paris had an agenda, one that included his lost son. If she brought Chakotay back, Tom Paris would return too.
"I see," she said, unable to keep the iciness from her voice. She never liked Owen Paris. The way his eyes roamed over her every time she was in his company had made her uneasy since her student days. What manner of men headed the Federation? Were they any different from Chakotay who, according to 'legend', never pretended?
She was of the few who knew why Tom left home, skipped his final Academy year, knocked two teeth out of his father's mouth and vowed that the next time he came up against Owen Paris, he wouldn't think twice driving a dagger through his heart. Once she had heard them argue, and Tom's words remained with her to this day:
"The boy couldn't fight back, Dad, but the man can. Don't push me."
After which Tom vanished and months later stories filtered through the Badlands and landed on the Federation conference tables that he had joined in an unholy alliance with Chakotay.
They heard footsteps outside the cargo bay and her heart hammered wildly and her head started spinning. She shouldn't be afraid, but she was. Krell held on to her as they braced themselves for the doors to open.
The doors opened and for the first time light streamed into the cargo bay. They moved closer together, seeking mutual comfort.
The first man who walked in was Chakotay. He was instantly recognisable. Wearing leather, and knee high boots, a leather belt round his waist and a d'k tagh displayed prominently against his left side, he looked imposing.
It was hard to think of him as a tyrant in those moments.
She had to remember that this was the most hated man in the Federation. She had to remember that she should hate him.
"Who is Kathryn Janeway?"
They were three women in command red. Had her rank pips fallen off? She hadn't noticed.
"Get up, Kathryn," he ordered as he looked from one woman to the other. Kathryn frowned heavily as she tried to rise to her feet, her fractured leg unable to sustain her weight on it. Another man grabbed her and held her up. He gripped her chin, tilted it so she had to look up and almost shoved her agaisnt Chakotay.
She gazed at his rugged, familiar face, the tattoo, at the eyes in which there was no recognition of her.
"Chakotay... I am Kathryn..."
*****
END PART THREE