Disclaimer: Same as usual - Paramount owns Trek & Voyager.
Rated A very strong R
Alternate ending to Shayenne's Descent. which you must read first for this to make sense. WARNING: Do NOT expect my usual kind of story. These are not nice people at all. The characters wrote themselves - I had nothing to do with it, so don't complain to me!
Note: The first part of this is identical to the final section of Shayenne's story.
The bridge was silent. On the viewscreen, the blue-purple orb of the Kyrian home world hung motionless. Janeway paced. Rather than think about the immediate present, I focused on her lean legs and hips.
"Janeway to sickbay. Is the weapon ready for deployment?"
The Doctor's flat tones answered her. "Yes, Captain."
Next to her, the Nascan ambassador appeared sickly. "Captain, I beg you to reconsider."
She turned to him, and the glitter in her eyes told its own tale. "You wanted to win this war. I'm merely doing this for you."
"But this is genocide-"
Her eyes were cold. "It's what you asked for." She turned to me. "Commander?"
I nodded.
"The bridge is yours."
As sleek as a mountain lion, she left her chair, waving a negligent hand for me to take the seat.
I stared at the viewscreen from the captain's chair. The Kyrian homeworld filled my sight. Down there were men, women, children, living, loving, working, playing. This was not their war--the Nascan ambassador had only asked for a show of strength to force Tedran, the Kyrian leader, to surrender. No one had asked for this. No one, except Janeway.
"Chakotay to sickbay. Is the weapon ready for deployment?"
The lifeless tones of the Doctor filled the bridge. "I am reconfiguring the beam to carry a bio-agent into the planet's atmosphere....it is ready now, Commander."
Janeway lounged next to me, her drumming fingers the only outward sign of her impatience. I looked first at Tuvok, then at Ayala standing behind him, and nodded. Immediately, phaser fire erupted with a searing flash.
Janeway whipped her head around, and stood, startled as I'd never seen her before. Her eyes grew wide at the sight of Tuvok's brains splattered like green slime against the wall, and Ayala standing with phaser in hand.
I raised the weapon I'd hidden in my jacket, and had the pleasure of seeing the shock and grudging admiration in her eyes just before I fired. She slumped heavily to the deck in a graceless sprawl. The acrid smell of blood and burned flesh filled the bridge.
I studied my nemesis for a moment. If it weren't for the large burn mark in the center of her chest from the direct hit, I could have believed she was asleep-she looked almost peaceful. It was strange; I felt nothing. Nothing at all. No anger, no regret, no relief. Nothing. I stood and stepped over her body as Ayala joined me on the command level, his phaser still drawn.
No one else had moved. The Nascan ambassador was rooted in place, wide-eyed and mouth gaping. I felt a hand on my arm and whipped around, ready to fire again.
Paris stepped back, hands raised in surrender. "Whoa, big guy. Just wanted to congratulate you. We've all been wondering exactly what it would take to get you to make your move."
I glanced around the bridge, still tense and ready for retaliation from any quarter. There was none. In fact, other than the horrified, frightened ambassador, everyone looked relieved, even pleased.
"What are your orders, Captain?"
It was Kim, standing straight, eyes glittering. His tight braid made his oriental features stand out harshly under the dim lighting Janeway always preferred. He looked eager, predatorial. I knew he was as trustworthy as a wild animal.
"First, raise the god-damned lights on this bridge. Paris, maintain orbit around the planet for now. Kim, have every Kazon rounded up, and space the lot of them. Next, decompress cargo bay two and get those Borg drones off my ship."
My ship. Now I had what I'd really been after all these years. Kim had addressed me as Captain, and it was something I'd not heard directed toward me since my Maquis days, and my soul surged at the sound. It was right; it was fitting. Janeway had made the mistake of letting me sit in the main chair, and I had no intention of letting it go ever again.
I continued issuing orders, gesturing at the two bodies. "Ayala, get this trash off the bridge, and have maintenance clean up the mess. Then recycle all of Janeway's property and move my belongings into the captain's quarters. Ambassador, you're with me." I strode toward the ready room to the wonderful sound of people scurrying to my command.
At the ready room door, I looked back. The one person who had not moved was the ambassador, seemingly frozen in shock, his eyes riveted to the two bodies being removed, the green stain on the carpet under what was left of Tuvok's head.
"Ambassador," I growled, and the man's eyes snapped up to mine. I indicated the ready room, and he meekly began to follow me. Once inside the room I took a deep breath. It reeked of Janeway in every way - scent, decoration, lighting. Sultry, heavy darkness, mysterious and unfathomable.
"Computer, raise lights to 100%." In two steps, I reached the desk and with a sweep of my arm, sent every trinket, picture, and memento crashing to the floor. The ambassador cringed at the sound.
Seating myself behind the desk was truly satisfying, and I indicated the chair before me. "Ambassador, sit please. I'm sure you and I can quickly work out a mutually agreeable arrangement." I knew from the man's numb movements that he would be a pushover for whatever I wanted.
In ten minutes, the deal was settled. I had Rollins at tactical strategically target all of the Kyrian's military bases in exchange for the co-ordinates of the wormhole. I very calmly informed the ambassador that should his information be incorrect, that I would not be happy, and that was something he would do well to avoid. Voyager would return to his world, and our torpedo strikes would be much less discriminating. The man seemed to shrink before my eyes, and he hastened to assure me that everything was correct.
In a matter of two hours, the Kyrians had folded, the ambassador returned to his world, and the co-ordinates of the wormhole were laid in at the helm. At warp nine, we were less than twenty-four hours from our way home, out of this god-forsaken quadrant. I ordered the senior staff off duty until then, as we would all need to be fresh.
News of the change in command had spread quickly, and I was surprised when, on the way to my new quarters, I was congratulated by many of the crew, and greeted with pleasant nods. Instead of the hostility I'd expected, their expressions were of relief and admiration. I was actually shocked when a few of them genuinely smiled. I tried to remember the last time I'd seen that on this ship.
As I walked the hallways of my ship, I thought of the former captain, and couldn't help wondering what had turned her into that person. Was she the final proof that some people were actually born evil, or was there more to her background than I'd ever discovered with all my research? She had been fascinating, almost an obsession to me for so long, a drug to my soul that had too often rendered me weak and insipid.
At the door to my new living quarters, Ayala exited and nodded to me. I stopped him with a hand on his arm. "First officer or tactical and security?"
He thought for a moment, then laughed harshly. "Tactical and security. It seems appropriate."
His expression hardened, and I remembered he had every reason to hate both Tuvok and Janeway. One time Ayala had accidentally bumped into her when he exited the lift, and she had Tuvok flog him with the laser lash. It had nearly killed him. I'd been on an away mission when it happened, and it was the only time she actually cowed before my verbal onslaught when I later confronted her. She hadn't even retaliated when I countermanded her orders and made the doctor heal the raw wounds that had covered Ayala's entire body.
"Chakotay, make Paris your first officer," my friend advised. "That way both you and I can keep an eye on him."
I nodded in agreement, said goodnight, then stepped through the doors. I was tired and looking forward to my bed, but I paused to savor the moment. Ayala had done a good job - all visible evidence of Janeway was gone, and even the cloying scent of her perfume barely wafted in the air.
I threw my jacket aside, glad to be rid of it. I would never wear that garbage again. I was Maquis, not Starfleet. Tomorrow I would have Paris issue a statement that anyone who wanted to remain onboard would be welcome, but that Voyager was now a Maquis ship.
I checked the chronometer; in less than eighteen hours we would reach the wormhole, and could get back to our own quadrant, our own fight. Anger rose as I thought of the wasted years while Janeway had meandered here and there, frittering away time and building her own little empire like a demigod. With a ship like Voyager, and the biogenic weapon of the doctor's, we could decimate the Cardassians and all their allies. The Maquis would prevail, and our worlds could rebuild in security again.
In the bedroom, I began to undress, dispassionately observing the naked, slim body that was shackled and gagged on my bed. Still unconscious, yet with every wound healed, her body was perfect, the muscles well-toned. I marveled at the total whiteness of her skin that covered such a black heart and soul. Her face was relaxed, almost innocent looking. Again I wondered what had molded Janeway into the embodiment of evil that she was.
Her chest rose and fell slowly, and experimentally I leaned over to blow on one pink nipple. It peaked in response to the stimulation. I knew from her holoprograms that she liked rough sex, and although I'd never taken a woman against her will, my groin responded to the unconscious upward movement of her pelvis. The thatch of auburn curls at her apex drew me, and I ran a hand up her trim thigh. Again, her pelvis tilted and the scent of her sex wafted up, a siren call.
Abruptly, I pulled my hand away and drew a chair next to the bed to wait. Eventually she began to stir and her eyes fluttered. I sat forward, eager for the confrontation to come.
She blinked, frowned, and blinked again. Realization set in where she was, and that she was bound, and she yanked on the shackles, grunting in her efforts to free herself.
I leaned forward and steepled my fingers together and the movement drew her head toward me. I smiled at the glitter of hate in her eyes. She looked behind me to the door, and I informed her, "There won't be any help coming for you, Kathryn. Ayala is the only other person who knows you're still alive, and you know he's certainly not going to help you."
Understanding began to dawn in her eyes, and I pressed the point home. "I get the idea from the response of the rest of the crew, that even if they did know, they wouldn't care. Everyone seems very happy that you're gone. Everyone, even Kim."
It had been a risky, dangerous move to keep her alive. I probably should have just killed her straight off, as I was undoubtedly going to have to do it eventually. I wasn't willing to analyze why I'd done it. I would have to confine her inside a forcefield because the moment I released her, she'd be trying to kill me - of that I had no doubt.
I rested my hand on her naked hip and leaned over her. To her credit, she didn't flinch at my touch. I looked straight into her eyes and said conversationally, "I can't quite decide if I should have Ayala space you to float beside Tuvok's body, or if I should take you back to the Alpha quadrant and drop you off somewhere so Starfleet can deal with you."
The flash of outright fear that contorted her expression stilled me. Interesting. She had just handed me the weapon I needed to control her. As bad as Starfleet was, they would definitely not be happy with the behavior of Captain Janeway. Starfleet was not known for patience with officers who didn't toe the line, and I could just imagine the form their punishment would take. I decided to taunt her some more.
"Yes, that's what I'll do. We'll get through the wormhole, and then leave you at some Federation space station with a copy of your logs. Somehow I don't think you'll be welcomed as a returning hero, do you?"
Her expression was almost one of panic, and she began to pull frantically against the bonds. The sight of her arching back and thrusting pelvis sent shards of arousal through me. "Now, now, Kathryn. Don't waste your energy. You know they're unbreakable as you made these shackles yourself, and I figure you intended to use them on me tonight. Would you prefer that I send you to the Kazon? I have a strange fondness for you, so I'd be willing to do that for you. You seem to have a lot in common with them. No?" I asked at the emphatic shake of her head. What the Kazon had done to Seska made what Janeway had done to Ayala seem like a light spanking.
She stilled as I slid my hand up her side, and she watched my face intently.
"Hmm." I appeared to ponder for a moment. "If not the Kazon, then I'm sure the Vidiians would love to see you again." Again, she struggled, no doubt remembering just how many reasons the Vidiians had to loath her, the thousands of mangled bodies she'd left in her wake, so I continued. "But they're too far away, so I guess you'll just have to stay here. For now. I'll tell you what: we've always worked well together, so I'm sure we can come to some arrangement. What do you think?" I moved my hand to her inner thigh, and after a moment, she tilted her pelvis upward.
Yes, it was risky, dangerous, perhaps even foolish to keep her alive. But if I'd learned anything from Janeway, it was that playing it safe was a game for the weak. And right now, I held all the cards.
The End
Feedback? Please. Brianna
Think Chakotay was too fierce? Read Shayenne's original ending.
© Brianna Thomas, October 2005 Please email me to post/distribute elsewhere.