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See Chapter One for details. Standard legal BS applies. Star Trek: Voyager and all things contained therein are the property of Paramount and Viacom. No infringement intended.

Desecration

Chapter Four

B'Elanna's dark head rested wearily on Harry's shoulder. The senior officers were slumped together on the floor in a corner of the crowded cargo bay. It was unbearably hot, the unavoidable result of cramming 135 beings, all radiating body heat, into a room intended for storage. Their durable Starfleet uniforms were designed to be worn on a climate-controlled ship. They consisted of layers of clothing that, at the moment, only served to trap the hot air next to their skin.

Lieutenant Torres let out a low growl of irritation as she unzipped her jacket and clawed impatiently at the sleeves to remove it. "I can't stand this heat!" she snarled. She plucked her combadge off the jacket and tossed the gold and black article aside.

"I thought Klingons liked a warmer climate." Harry mused aloud as he watched his friend yank her gray standard issue turtleneck over her head, her dark hair damp with sweat.

Finally stripped down to her tank top and trousers, B'Elanna glared at Harry. "Don't be ridiculous, Starfleet. I'm only half Klingon, remember? Besides, this doesn't qualify as a 'warmer climate'. It's hotter than Vulcan in here!"

Commander Tuvok regarded the chief engineer with a raised eyebrow. "That is incorrect, Lieutenant. The temperature on Vulcan often exceeds…"

"It was a figure of speech, Tuvok." B'Elanna snapped. She fixed her dark eyes on the Vulcan's face. "Look at you. You're not even breaking a sweat."

"Vulcans do not sweat until the temperature reaches approximately 215 degrees." droned Tuvok.

"Fascinating." she replied sarcastically. "At least we know Tuvok and Vorik will survive after the rest of us die from heat exhaustion."

Neelix sat silently watching B'Elanna from his spot against the wall. He knew she must be crazy with worry about Tom. The Variquian guard had come for him over an hour ago and shoved him along a path out of the cargo bay with no explanation whatsoever. That was the real reason for her hostility. Yes, the heat was getting to all of them, save Tuvok of course. But it was her concern for Tom that had B'Elanna spitting like an angry sarcazion bush snake.

Neelix slid over and sat beside her, placing a gentle hand on her trim arm. "It's okay, B'Elanna. We're all worried about Tom and the captain."

Her angry expression seemed to soften slightly as she looked at the portly Talaxian seated at her side. He was always there for her, to offer a listening ear or a word of advice. And, as annoying as the little man could be, he had definitely wormed his way into B'Elanna's confused heart. "I know, Neelix. Thank you." she said softly, patting his hand.

She rose to her feet and began pacing the small space they occupied. "I just feel so frustrated. I hate just sitting here waiting for something to happen. I feel like we should be doing something."

"We all feel that way, B'Elanna." said Harry. "But what can we do? There are too many guards, and we've all seen what their weapons can do." Sadness washed over the handsome asian's face as he recalled the condition of Ensign Taylor's lifeless body when she was carried into sickbay. It was a gruesome sight, and he wished he hadn't been there to see it. There was a moment of almost reverent silence as the senior officers were reminded of the grisly scene they witnessed on the bridge.

The cargo bay doors hissed open and the silence was broken as a familiar voice filled the room.

"Okay, okay! I'm going." Tom said, casting a smug glance at the huge alien shoving him roughly into the cargo bay.

"Tom!" B'Elanna cried, rising to her feet.

A soft smile graced Paris's full lips as he made his way to B'Elanna. He took her into his arms. "Miss me?" he teased, planting a kiss on the top of her head.

"Never." she lied, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I'm just happy to see that you didn't join forces with the enemy."

"Glad you have such faith in me." Tom snorted playfully.

"Tom," Harry interrupted, "Sorry to break up the happy reunion, but where did they take you? Did you see the captain?"

"Calm down, Harry. I'll tell you everything." Paris said, patting his friend on the back. "Just as soon as I shed this jacket. It's hotter than Vulcan in here."

The officers chuckled at Tom's unwitting repetition of his girlfriend's earlier comment. Tuvok regarded Paris with an extremely Vulcan raised eyebrow and simply said, "So it would seem."

Paris removed his jacket and tossed it next to B'Elanna's on the floor. He took a seat beside her and began to tell them about what he saw while he was assisting the doctor.

"I'm so relieved to know that the captain is alive." Neelix gushed, clapping a hand on Tom's shoulder.

"She's alive. But she certainly isn't safe." Paris corrected, his boyish face taking on a painful expression. "We treated her broken arm as well as we could in the ready room, and we were able to stop the bleeding, but…" He paused and dropped his head sadly for a moment.

"Please continue, Lieutenant." Tuvok prodded.

Tom met the Vulcan's gaze. "She's been mistreated."

"What do you mean 'mistreated', Tom?" B'Elanna asked impatiently.

"The doctor said that she was lying unconscious in her own blood on the ready room sofa when he arrived. He had difficulty waking her. He tried to convince Kirov to let him move her to sickbay for the surgery, but he wouldn't allow it. When we arrived with the surgical equipment…" he paused again, swallowing back the tremble that had crept into his voice. "She was gasping for breath and her lips were blue. She had these horrible red welts on her neck." He locked eyes with Tuvok, finding his Vulcan strength comforting. "She had been strangled. If we had been any later…"

"Oh my…" muttered Neelix breathlessly, the color draining from his whiskered face. He leaned against the wall for support. "We… we have to do something."

B'Elanna jumped to her feet and kicked a large container of dried leola root in frustration. The huge bin crashed to the floor, knocking the lid loose and spilling the contents. "BaQa', ghuy'cha', Hu'tegh!" she cursed in Klingon

Tom took her firmly by the arms. "Easy, B'Elanna. That's leola root, you could kill us all."

"Mr. Paris's predictable attempts at humor notwithstanding, you must control your temper, Lieutenant." Tuvok preached. "Your outburst will only attract unwanted attention from the guards."

B'Elanna glared at Tuvok. "The captain's in danger! How can we just sit here?"

"Calm yourself, Lieutenant Torres. That is an order." Tuvok met her hateful glare with his penetratingly logical one, quieting her volatile nature with an expertise no human could possess.

When B'Elanna returned to her seated position, the Vulcan continued. "I have no intention of 'just sitting here'." he said, raising an eyebrow in B'Elanna's direction. He met the eyes of each of the officers in turn as he spoke in a hushed but firm voice. "I have devised a plan, but it will require a flawless execution to be successful. Listen carefully…"

"Please Captain, I've seen enough of your foolish pride." He hissed, his body pressing tightly against her back as he pinned her to the floor. "Give me the codes."

"I already told you." Janeway wheezed, ignoring the stinging bite of the carpet burning the tender skin on her cheek. "I don't have the codes. Give me access to my computer so I can attempt to decrypt them."

"LIES!" Kirov roared. "What kind of a fool do you take me for?" He rose to his knees and took Kathryn's small arm firmly in his grasp. "This is your fault! All of it! You're willful, arrogant. But I will break your spirit… even if I have to do it one bone at a time."

She felt it the split second it happened. The pain was instantaneous, originating in her arm and then ripping mercilessly through her body at warp speed. The sound was almost as agonizing as the pain. It was the sickening, unmistakable sound of bone being crushed. Excruciating, stinging pain ravaged through her and she knew her freshly healed arm was once again broken and useless. She didn't even realize she had cried out until the sound of her own scream hit her ears. The torturous ache was followed by a crashing tidal wave of nausea that she was unable to contain. She watched in horror as her own vomit flooded the ready room carpet.

She turned her face away from the foul mess, disgusted by her body's betrayal in such a revolting display of weakness. She failed to suppress another painful cry as Kirov jerked her roughly to her feet, her arms still tied cruelly behind her back and twisting her broken limb at a merciless angle. He lifted her effortlessly off the ground by her neck, her feet dangling helplessly in the air. "Do you fear me now, Janeway?" he hissed, the veins bulging and pulsing in his temples. "Have you tasted it enough?"

Rocked by intense pain, the magnitude of which she could never before have conceived, she no longer possessed the rationality to fear for her own life. She knew only hatred, only rage, as Kirov again crushed her windpipe with his bare hands. He deprived her of not only life's vital breath, but of her dignity as well. With her last bit of strength before she slipped into sweet unconsciousness, Kathryn Janeway locked eyes with the huge alien… and spit directly in his evil face.

"Ahhhh!" Kirov howled as her saliva struck his skin. Her small, cataleptic body hung limp and lifeless in his grasp, her shapely lips once again an eerie shade of blue. He remained motionless, still holding her by the throat. He was morbidly captivated by her body's ragged attempts to take a breath as she clung to life. Still defying him, even in her unconscious state. He could do nothing but stare at her. He didn't even hear the doors hiss as they closed behind Subcommander Jalek.

"Pardon the intrusion, High Commander." Jalek said calmly. "But if you kill her she will be of no further use to us. Unless, of course, you have learned of a way to extract encryption codes from a corpse."

Kirov slammed Janeway's lifeless body onto the sofa and whirled angrily on Jalek. "Watch your tone with me, Subcommander! It is only because of me that you're even still alive. Need I remind you that it was I who convinced the Variquian Council not to execute you for your brother's treason?"

Jalek hung his head shamefully. "I needn't be reminded of that, sir. I assure you, I think of your graciousness every day of my life. You know you have only my deepest respect, High Commander."

Soothed by Jalek's skilled ego stroking, Kirov began to let go of his anger. He nodded regally at his subordinate. "You are forgiven."

"I am most grateful, sir." Jalek replied almost sincerely.

Kirov averted his gaze to Janeway. "Is she dead?"

Jalek moved to the sofa, feeling the captain's bruised neck for a pulse and watching her chest for respirations. "She is alive, High Commander. But she's unconscious, perhaps even in a coma. Shall I summon their doctor?"

"No." he answered without hesitation. "This human belongs to me. I'll see to her needs. For now, we have other business to attend to." Kirov moved toward the door, motioning for Jalek to accompany him.

As the two men stepped through the door, Kirov summoned the guard to return to the ready room. "Watch the human closely, Trebin. Notify me immediately the moment she regains consciousness." He ordered. He moved to step away, but suddenly hesitated. He peered deeply into Trebin's eyes as if trying to assess his character or read his thoughts. He saw the familiar lustful fire burning in the guard's eyes. It was a perfectly normal reaction to an attractive female. That was the purpose of all females, to please the men. And had it been any other woman he would've gladly allowed it. But not Janeway, she was his alone. "Do not touch her. Do you understand?"

"Yes, High Commander." Trebin answered obediently.

"Well…" Chakotay snapped the instant the doctor stepped through the sickbay doors. "Did you see her? How is she?" Gods, it seemed like he'd been gone for hours!

"Well, it's delightful to see you too, Commander." the hologram chided. He moved quickly to Chakotay's side. "Relax, or you'll have every guard within earshot breathing down our necks. Is that what you want?" he scolded in hushed tones as he pretended to be scanning Chakotay.

"Of course not." the commander answered sharply. "It's this damn concussion. I just can't think straight. I'm going insane lying here and doing nothing."

"I understand how you feel." the doctor comforted. "But you must remain calm if we're to accomplish anything." He watched as Chakotay breathed deeply in an effort to gain control of his erratic emotions. When he decided that the commander was calm enough to be somewhat reasonable, he continued. "Yes, I did see the captain. Lieutenant Paris and I set the bone in her arm and tended to her other injuries. She was alert and stable when we left."

Chakotay eyed him suspiciously, his dark eyes narrowing into knife-slash thin slits. "Why do I get the feeling that you're being deliberately vague, Doctor?"

"Doctor-Patient confidentiality." he lied, having no desire to tell the injured man that his beloved captain and best friend, or whatever they were calling their strange relationship these days, had nearly bled to death and was then strangled into unconsciousness. His emotions were difficult enough to maintain without knowing the horrific details. They were distressing and unnerving, even to a hologram.

"Doctor, please. I need to know the truth. What's happening to her up there?" Chakotay's eyes were pleading for information, for some connection to her no matter how indirect. It was an unmistakable testimony to his deep feelings for Captain Janeway that even the doctor couldn't miss.

"Very well, I'll tell you. Just remember that you wanted to know, no matter how unpleasant it may be." Chakotay nodded his understanding. "The captain suffered an open fracture on her arm that required surgical correction. When Kirov refused to allow her to be brought to sick bay, I was forced to perform the operation in the ready room."

The blank expression on Chakotay's face made it clear that he obviously didn't understand the significance of such an event. With a heavy sigh, the doctor continued. "She was unconscious when I arrived, and I lacked the necessary equipment to safely sedate her in the ready room. I'm afraid the captain was awake during the surgery and though I gave her an analgesic, she undoubtedly experienced severe pain."

Chakotay's face melted in an expression of sorrow. When he spoke, his voice trembled with emotion. "I assume that's not the worst of it."

"You assume correctly." the doctor began again, a sadness washing over his holographic features. "I'm sorry to tell you, Commander, that some of the captain's injuries were inflicted during the short time I was gone gathering equipment for the surgery."

"What do you mean?" Chakotay prodded impatiently.

"From the condition I found her in upon my return, I concluded that Captain Janeway had suffered… strangulation." He watched as the tears welled up in Chakotay's eyes. "Kirov is barbaric. I must tell you that I fear for her life."

Commander Chakotay hung his head and tried to control his breathing as his heart ruptured into microfragments. The large, powerful man had a gentle soul and a love for this woman that was beyond measure. When he touched her, he did so with a softness and respect that could easily be called reverence. The image of large hands marring and bruising her tender flesh was heinous and unbearable for him. He sat quietly as the tears rolled slowly down his cheeks. "We have to get her out of there. And we have to do it now." he chocked.

The doctor turned around sharply as he sensed motion behind him. A large Variquian guard stepped up to the biobed. "Why are you spending so much time on this human?" he snarled. "I already told you that your first priority is the Borg woman."

"I hardly think you're qualified to prioritize my treatment schedule, unless you're hiding a medical degree somewhere in that uniform you're wearing." the doctor said smugly.

The Variquian glared threateningly at him. "Your time with him is up. Move on to the Borg, now!"

"I'm trying to save lives here, not that you would understand. I can't heal my patients on a predetermined timetable. The work I do is delicate, and often unpredictable. I cannot turn it off and on according to some ridiculous schedule!" the doctor said indignantly. "I'm a doctor, not an egg timer!"

The Variquian stared at the doctor in abject disbelief. He had expected the hologram to cower before him, or at least be intimidated. He shot a disgusted glance at Chakotay. "He seems well enough to me. Prepare him to join his shipmates in the cargo hold."

"Fine." snapped the doctor. "I need to give him one more treatment before I release him. Please step out of the way." He glared at the unmoving Variquian. "I'll inform you when I'm finished."

Reluctantly, the guard resumed his previous position by the door.

Chakotay stared quizzically at the doctor as he retrieved two emergency life support units from a nearby shelf. He brought one of the oxygen masks to Chakotay's face. "Keep this sealed tightly over your nose and mouth, Commander. Don't let go of it, no matter what happens. Do you understand?"

"What are you doing?" Chakotay stammered, grabbing hold of the mask.

"No time to explain. You'll just have to trust me. Keep the mask on. Do you understand?"

"Yes." He answered, holding the mask tightly to his face.

The doctor moved swiftly to the surgical bed where Seven of Nine still lay in a coma. He strapped the other mask to her face, securing it tightly in place. Before there was time for anyone to question his actions, he ordered, "Computer, erect a containment field around sickbay." The computer chirped in acknowledgement.

As the startled Variquian soldiers began moving toward the doctor to stop him, he moved to put a biobed in between them. "Now evacuate the nitrogen from this room and replace it with anesthezine, command authorization Chief Medical Officer alpha three zero."

This hiss of the sedating gas flooding the room caused Chakotay to reflexively press the oxygen mask tightly against his face. He climbed off the biobed and strapped the life support unit to his waist.

Within seconds, the Variquian soldiers began to stagger and sway as they tried to fight the anesthetizing effects of the gas. They clutched at biobeds, consoles, and walls… anything within reach in a desperate attempt to stay upright.

"You are undoubtedly experiencing lightheadedness and strong urge to sleep." the doctor ambled on. Before he could continue, one of the Variquians stumbled into him, clawing at the doctor's uniform to steady himself as he fought to say conscious. Loosing the battle, his large body slumped to the floor, dragging a very indignant hologram with him.

"How extremely rude!" the doctor said haughtily, prying the unconscious man's hands from his jacket and climbing to his feet. He moved swiftly to the surgical bed to check on Seven of Nine, even as he spoke to Chakotay.

"We won't have much time before they discover us. We'll have to act quickly."

Chakotay stepped over two passed out aliens on his way to the console. He began tapping away at the controls. "We have to find a way to access the transporter. We can lock on to the captain's biosignature and beam her to sick bay." He rambled, his voice muffled by the mask.

"I have to vent the anesthezine from this room before the aliens breathe in a fatal concentration. We'll have about 15 to 20 minutes at best before they regain consciousness." The doctor regarded Chakotay's quizzical expression. "I'm a physician, Commander. I preserve life. I will not cause their deaths."

Chakotay nodded his understanding. "Can we vent this gas through the environmental system throughout the entire ship, put everyone to sleep?"

"I'm afraid not. I have been able to determine that Variquian physiology is quite different from that of most humanoids. They have a very unique type of tissue among their alveolar membranes; consequently, they require a smaller percentage of oxygen in the air than do humans. It's quite remarkable actually. They are also larger in stature than most humanoids." One look at Chakotay's impatient glare prompted the doctor to get to the point. "The amount of anesthezine I would have to vent through Voyager's systems in order to render the Variquians unconscious would undoubtedly be fatal to the crew. That's why I provided life support packs with an independent air supply for both yourself and Seven of Nine. So, unless every single crew member happens to have such a device at this very moment, it is not an option."

Several alarms began to sound from Seven's life support equipment. The doctor responded immediately and began examining the information on the small diagnostic screen.

"What is it?" asked Chakotay.

The doctor looked up from his monitor, a subtle smile gracing his lips. "It appears that Seven is regaining consciousness."

Without warning a loud, piercing scream tore through the hushed cargo bay. Neelix, who was bent over at the waist and clutching his abdomen, cried out in pain. "Please, help me."

Tom Paris rushed to his friend's side. "Neelix, what is it? What's wrong?"

"It hurts!" the Talaxian gasped, falling to his knees. "The pain, it just hit me out of nowhere." He continued to claw at his stomach, moaning in agony.

"I need some help over here!" Paris shouted. He locked eyes with the nearest Variquian guard. "This man is ill, he could die! Please, he needs some help."

Neelix fell onto his back, a terrified scream tearing from his lips as his body convulsed violently.

"Hey, Count Dracula! I don't imagine your superior will be too happy if my friend dies while you stand there staring at me." Paris quipped.

Reluctantly, the Variquian motioned to two other guards and they moved to Neelix's position.

In the far corner of the cargo bay, Tuvok nodded silently to Torres and Kim. Without a word, B'Elanna eased open the access port and climbed into the Jeffries tube. Harry followed a few seconds later.

Commander Tuvok watched the well choreographed scene play out before him. Mr. Neelix and Lieutenant Paris were doing an impressive job of creating a diversion and distracting the guards. Confident that their absence would not be noticed for at least several minutes, he slipped unobserved into the Jeffries tube, securing the hatch behind him and drowning out the sounds of Neelix's theatrical screams.

B'Elanna crawled swiftly and easily through the narrow Jeffries tube. Since she was promoted to Chief Engineer, she had spent more hours in these tubes than she cared to remember. She was as at home in the bowels of this ship as she was in her own quarters. "This way." she whispered to Harry as she followed a tube that veered starboard.

Harry Kim struggled to keep up with B'Elanna's pace as he tried to navigate his broad shoulders through the tapered access tunnels. "This is one time when it pays to be small." he mused aloud.

B'Elanna stopped, flipping her dark head around to glare at him. "Who are you calling small, Starfleet?"

Harry's retort died on his lips as Tuvok's stoic voice filled their ears.

"Need I remind you that every moment we delay, the danger to Captain Janeway, as well as Mr. Neelix and Lieutenant Paris, increases considerably."

"It might help if you told us the rest of your plan, Tuvok." B'Elanna said.

Tuvok hesitated only briefly before fixing his dark eyes on Torres. "We will discuss the details at a more opportune time, Lieutenant. Right now I suggest you focus your attention on reaching the weapons locker before our absence has been discovered."

"Why do I get a feeling that's Vulcan for 'I don't even have a plan yet'"? Harry muttered under his breath.

Of course, it was a rare thing that escaped Tuvok's keen, pointed ears. He said nothing, and simply regarded the young ensign with a look that clearly said, "I'll tolerate that because you are a mere human and cannot help yourself."

They continued in silence until B'Elanna spoke. "Okay, there is a weapons locker on the other side of this hatch." She said barely above a whisper. "The question is are we the only ones who know about it. Because if we're not, it'll be guarded."

"What I wouldn't give for a tricorder about now." Harry said, more to himself than anyone else.

"In the absence of technology, we must rely on our senses for guidance." Tuvok said, sliding past Kim and Torres and positioning himself in front of the hatch. He indicated for them to be silent, and then very slowly and carefully slid the hatch open about a fourth of an inch. He did it without making a single sound. He put his ear near the crack and listened meticulously to the sounds in the room.

After a moment of silent surveillance, the commander leaned in close to his subordinates and whispered, "There is only one guard in the room."

Harry Kim failed to hide the shock on his face. "How can you tell?"

"Simple." Tuvok whispered flatly. "I detect only one individual breathing."

B'Elanna shot a wry grin at Harry. "Yeah, it's simple Harry."

Tuvok ignored the Klingon's sarcasm and continued. "It is logical to assume that he is armed. However, we have the element of surprise in our favor."

"If we rush him, he might not have time to take aim at anyone." Torres added in a whisper.

"Agreed." Tuvok said. "I will lead. On my signal."

Torres and Kim nodded their understanding.

Commander Tuvok was the first one to burst out of the Jeffries tube, followed immediately by Harry and then B'Elanna. The guard was in the far corner of the room, his back to them. He whirled at the sound, his hand already reaching for his weapon.

Tuvok's lightening fast reflexes served him well as he kicked the energy weapon out of the alien's hand just as he was about to fire on them. The firearm flew across the room and landed with a thud on the floor. The guard's eyes averted for a microsecond, an insentient act, as they followed the weapons trajectory. That was long enough for Harry to slam his shoulder into the Variquian's abdomen, sending them both crashing into the wall.

B'Elanna retrieved the weapon from the floor and turned to aim at the alien, but Harry's body was in front, covering him like a human shield. Tuvok and Kim struggled with the guard until the commander finally managed to deliver a swift Vulcan nerve pinch and render him unconscious. His body slumped to the ground.

Tuvok opened the weapons locker and was as relieved as a Vulcan can possibly be to discover that it still contained a full arsenal of hand phasers and compression rifles. He passed a rifle to each of his subordinates and then took one for himself.

"What now?" Harry asked.

"Now we'll go to the main science lab. It is a low priority area and is likely to have been overlooked by the aliens. It may even be unguarded altogether." Tuvok answered without looking at him. He was already moving toward the door. "Once we secure the science lab, we will attempt to access the ship's systems."

"That isn't going to be easy, Tuvok. None of us are exactly proficient in Borg encryption codes." said B'Elanna.

"You are correct, Lieutenant. However, Ensign Kim has spent a considerable amount of time working with Seven of Nine. He has a fair knowledge of the Borg language. And you are an able engineer. You will make an efficient team."

"And what about you?" Harry asked, an amused grin on his face.

"My job is to get us there in one piece, Ensign."

The headache wasn't so bad. It was the tooth-splitting pain coursing through her arm that drug Kathryn Janeway kicking and screaming into consciousness. "Ohhhhh…" she moaned aloud as she tried to sit up. Her arms were still tied behind her back, and the pressure as she lay on her injured limb was excruciating.

It took only a few seconds for her senses to return. A quick visual scan alerted her to the presence of the familiar Variquian guard seated at her desk. He stared at her, a disturbing, malevolent grin spreading across his ghostly white face. "I was beginning to wonder if you would ever wake up, woman."

She stared up at him, watching him suspiciously as he rose and moved toward her. She stiffened slightly but didn't speak as he sat next to her on the sofa.

"I have orders to alert High Commander Kirov as soon as you wake up. Perhaps he desires another round of… discussion with you. Though, I doubt you'd survive it." he said wickedly. "A puny, frail body such as yours can only take so much battering before it gives out. Don't you agree?"

She remained silent. She met his gaze, her blue eyes revealing nothing.

Trebin reached over and began stroking her knee. Then he moved his hand slowly up her thigh. "Perhaps I could be persuaded to delay that communication, Captain." he leered suggestively. "If you were to distract me…"

Kathryn chocked down the bile that was rapidly working its way up her swollen throat and forced a flirty smile. "Really?" she purred, leaning in closer to him until her lips were mere centimeters from his ear. "And just what type of… distraction do you prefer?"

Trebin dropped his head back and sighed heavily in response to Kathryn's soft breath tickling his earlobe. "I'll show you." he panted breathlessly. He took her chin in his hand and covered her lips with his. The kiss was brutal and demanding. Janeway fought the urge to gag as his tongue pushed between her lips and invaded her mouth. Despite the nauseating, metallic taste of his mouth, she forced herself to kiss him back.

His arms closed around her, pulling her onto his lap. His hands began to wander along her back and then up her sides. She was unable to stop a gasp from escaping her lips as his hand lightly brushed the underside of her breast. Trebin mistook her shocked reaction for desire and moaned softly into her mouth.

Kathryn moved off of his lap and knelt on the floor between his knees. She noted the hand held energy weapon holstered at his waist and casually averted her eyes as if she hadn't seen it at all. She eyed the obvious bulge in his trousers suggestively. "This would be much more pleasurable if I could use my hands." she said, her voice husky and deep.

Trebin eyed her suspiciously. "Do you think I am an idiot, Captain? You're just trying to get me to untie you."

Her eyes held his gaze steadily, hoping with all her soul that he would mistake the hot hatred in her eyes for burning desire. "Yes, I do want you to unleash my arms. The pain is distracting me." She licked her lips seductively, slowly, watching the lust wash over his face. She leaned in until her mouth was just barely brushing his and whispered, "Besides, I can do amazing things with my hands. I can produce sensations beyond your imagination. I've been alone for a long time, too long." She kissed him gently, soft as a whisper. "I want to feel your flesh under my hands, feel the heat of you in my palms."

The Variquian's breathing had become ragged and shallow. He nodded once and then motioned for her to turn around. She obeyed, sighing in relief as he untied the merciless ropes and released her chafed wrists. Her broken arm hung limply at her side, aching and throbbing like a thousand bee stings. She tried once again to push the pain to the back of her mind and focus on what she had to do.

"Thank you." she purred, traveling her one useful hand up his thigh toward his zipper. Her heart was pounding in her ears as she slowly undid his trousers. She had to wait until he closed his eyes, even for just a split second, before she seized the weapon. She knew she only had one shot at this. Either she would succeed and gain control of the firearm, or he would pull it out of her reach and blow her head off. It was a chance she had to take.

As she slowly slid her small hand down his abdomen, and into the waistband of his undergarments, the fool dropped his head back and rested it on the back of the sofa. He closed his eyes and groaned in anticipation of her touch.

Janeway seized that moment to reach up and snatch the weapon from his side. As soon as she felt the cold metal handle in her hand, she jumped to her feet and moved back, taking immediate aim at his face.

Trebin's eyes flew open as he realized that he had been disarmed. He roared a Variquian curse that the universal translator couldn't decipher. In an instant he was on his feet and lunging at her.

Kathryn fired the weapon without hesitation, hitting the huge Variquian point blank in the neck. Purple blood spurted from the gaping wound and spattered across Janeway's face. The warm blood drizzled down her nose and lips, making its way into her mouth. She winced as the tangy metallic flavor hit her tongue. The blood was thick and somewhat lumpy in her mouth, already starting to coagulate as the clotting factors were exposed to the air. She absent-mindedly swiped at it with her arm, smearing the purple plasma across her face and staining the gray standard issue turtleneck she wore.

"I'm sorry, but you left me no choice." she murmured. There was no time to check the setting on the alien weapon to assure it wouldn't inflict a fatal injury. She watched silently, sadness flooding her heart, as Trebin fell to his knees, clutching desperately at his mangled throat. Purple blood oozed and bubbled as he tried to draw in ragged breaths through his perforated trachea. He attempted to cover the huge hole and seal if off with his hands, but to no avail. The air made a sickening whistling sound as it escaped out of the gaping maw before ever reaching his lungs.

The captain turned without further hesitation and opened the access port to the Jeffries tube behind her desk. She shot one more quick glance at Trebin's dying form before closing the hatch behind her. There was no time to grieve for life that she had just taken. That would come later… if she survived. She knew she would mourn the loss of his life even after the cruelty he displayed. She had a lingering respect for life, all life. It was bred into her very soul, and… it is the Starfleet way.