Children of the Night #4 in the Series By Lorelei Sieja Many thanks to my beta-readers, Laurie of the Isles and Kylie! Laurie, your knowledge of English grammar is spectacular! Permission granted to archive at Mel's fanfic page. Others please inquire. Chapter One: Nick caressed the white knight of polished marble before moving it into position. "Check," he said, glancing away before LaCroix could see the sly smile. "Mate," LaCroix amended. He laid the king down across the square. He had seen the trap Nicholas was laying for him, but had not been able to alter the course of the game. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled before him. "I see that married life agrees with you, Nicholas. You have not been this focused for centuries." Nick forced himself not to squirm under his master's scrutiny. "Do you wish to play again?" "Another time, perhaps." LaCroix took a sip from the glass his son had poured for him and marveled at the technology that permitted him to be here at all. His corporeal form still resided in the alpha quadrant, yet everything in this holodeck felt very real. The marble was cool to the touch; the leather chair was comfortable. Even the holographic blood tasted better than empty replicated plasma. Nick rose to set the chess pieces away. This was one of his favorite programs. It was a replica of the bomb shelter in the Northern Territories where he and LaCroix had resided for a quarter of a century. It held many poignant memories, some serious and some touching. LaCroix watched his golden child move on silent feet to the grand piano. He closed his eyes and waited, wondering what would stir his son tonight. Would he play the ever melancholy Chopin or passionate Tchaikovsky? Would Mozart's simple elegance complete this nearly perfect evening, or perhaps, Nicholas would perform something original? The quiet chords and slow, even tempo surprised him. It was nothing he had anticipated as he recognized Satie's Gymnopodie. The piece was elementary, even a child could play it, but the interpretation was as complex as his mercurial son. The haunting melody was both pure and bare, the piece almost totally devoid of ornamentation. It was sad yet joyful, expressive and undefinable. LaCroix finally gave up trying and just relaxed, allowing the notes to fill him. "Are you happy, Nicholas?" he asked when the song ended. Nick looked at him quizzically. He was about to give an off-hand comment when he stopped himself. It was a simple question. Did it have an answer? He was married now. B'Elanna knew him intimately and she was not afraid of him. She accepted him as he was - a moody vampire, unsure of his nature, insecure in his existence, and she loved him for it. He was happy with her. But, there was more. He had felt a contentment steal over him even before the marriage ceremony. There were others on board who also knew about him. The Captain, Commander Chakotay, Tuvok, Tom, Kim, Seven, Neelix and even the Doctor. It was dangerous for them to know about his existence. When they reached the alpha quadrant, their lives could be forfeit, and yet, Nick found a perverse pleasure in the fact they knew that and still accepted him. He had an important position in the crew. He was needed. That made him happy, but it was more than that, too. Something was different inside him. Nick couldn't explain it because he didn't understand it himself. He cocked a lopsided grin and nodded. "Yes, LaCroix. I am very happy." The ancient vampire stood then, replacing the empty glass on the end table. "I will not be with you for a few days, my son." Nick jumped up suddenly. "Why, LaCroix? What's wrong?" LaCroix chuckled. "Nothing is wrong, Nicholas. The moon fades. I will not have the strength to join you until it waxes again. Four, five days at most." Nick nodded. He still did not understand how his master was able to be here with him, sixty-seven thousand light years from home, but it was strangely comforting to visit with him like this from time to time. "I shall miss you," he said, surprised to learn that it was the truth. LaCroix took a hesitant step to bridge the distance between them. "Nicholas," he began. He started to speak, but then he shoved his hands in his pockets, uncharacteristically reluctant to continue. "What is it?" Nick asked. "Would you... could we... perhaps, share blood before I go?" Nick felt a warmth envelop him. He stared at the imposing figure that had the power to make him tremble, to drive him to a blind rage, to make him fear for his very existence, and yet had been his salvation time and time again. Nick loosened the top buttons of his off duty shirt and stepped into his father's embrace. Chakotay tapped his comm badge and addressed the ship's computer. "Locate Lieutenant Knight." "Lieutenant Knight is in holodeck B," the impersonal female voice responded. He sighed. He didn't like to intrude. The crew should be entitled to a little privacy, trapped as they were on this small ship for years on end. Nick seemed to need his time off more than any other. He was a dedicated worker, throwing himself body and soul into his tasks, but he could also be quite volatile. Chakotay grinned, remembering the last time he'd pushed the vampire too far and he rubbed at his forearm as if he could still feel the fangs piercing his flesh, sucking his life blood. Janeway wanted him though, and she wanted him now. Chakotay was not afraid to stand up to her, but he would pick his battles carefully. This was not one of them. He stepped through the doors to enter Nick's holographic play. He froze, speechless. Two vampires entwined. Nick's shirt was unbuttoned and hung wide, baring his shoulders and half his back, the soft silk folds bunching up at his forearms. LaCroix's teeth were buried in Nick's throat. Twin rivers of blood dripped from the small wounds down pale flesh. A look of pure ecstasy was on the ancient vampire's face. Chakotay started, worried for his friend, until he heard Nick utter a contented sound. He saw then that Nick was not fighting the elder vampire's bite. He was embracing it. He stared, entranced, wondering at the seduction of it all. As he watched, LaCroix withdrew from Nick's throat and licked at the blood that had escaped. Nick stepped back from the other, his hands still gripping LaCroix's shoulders for support. "Thank you, master," he whispered. "We are not alone," LaCroix said coldly. Chakotay saw Nick stiffen; saw tenseness where moments before was fluid grace. LaCroix lifted Nick's shirt and buttoned it once more. Ignoring the mortal who had dared to interfere, he cupped Nick's face in his hand, letting the golden hair slip through his fingers. "Au revoire, Nicholas," he said. Then he disappeared. Nick did not turn around but remained with his back to Chakotay. "What do you want." His tone was not pleasant. "I am sorry to intrude," Chakotay said. He hoped he sounded sincere, but he was still breathing heavily from what he had just seen. "Captain Janeway sent me to speak with you." Nick still had not moved. Chakotay walked to him then, until he could see the young officer's face. Nicholas glowed. There was no other way to describe it. His eyes were red embers; his teeth still full and sharp. His normally pale complexion appeared slightly flushed. "Are you all right?" he asked, concerned. Nick grinned, although he avoided looking at Chakotay. He took a step, staggering. Chakotay reached out quickly to steady him. Nick gripped Chakotay's arms, the grin spreading to a deep, contented laugh. "I am more than... all right," he answered cryptically. Chakotay felt embarrassment flush through him. Nick had tried to explain that a vampire's bite was a sensual experience, and indeed he had felt something inexplicable when he'd given Nick his blood, but nothing had prepared him for what he had just witnessed. LaCroix was Nick's master, an abusive and overbearing parent, yet it would seem that he was something more. Were they also lovers? And what about Nick's wife? "Does B'Elanna know about this?" he snapped. Nick drew in a breath and released his hold on Chakotay. "There is no "this" to know about, Chakotay. He is my master. He is owns me; he can take my blood at any time. What should it matter if I offer it to him freely and enjoy the experience?" Chakotay was confused. Nick looked sleepy and a little weak. But then, ordinary mortal sex sometimes left him sleepy, yet other times it energized him. "I want you to make me what you are," he said. Nick shook his head. The fangs retracted and slowly the inhuman glow left his eyes. "No, my friend. We've talked about this before. This is not for you." "It is my life. It is my choice. I have no people of my own any more. I want to be immortal." Nick changed the subject. Artful avoidance was often more successful than skillful debate. "What was it Janeway wanted?" Chakotay sighed. "This isn't over, my friend. And I am sorry for intruding. Should I make appropriate apologies to your father?" Nick shook his head. Chakotay then tried to explain the Captain's current complaint. It sounded petty even now. Nick was the ship's historian, appointed to write a detailed account of their adventures. Few ships had historians, as the captain's logs were generally sufficient. However, Nick had begun this history on his own and Captain Janeway had been so impressed that she gave him the job and title that went with it and the security clearance to legally access the logs he had been hacking in to. "She doesn't like what you've written about our last adventure with the Liat. She feels it is too brief, not your usual quality. She wants it expanded." Nick chuckled. "And she wants it done yesterday, right?" Chakotay grimaced. Duty would require that he support his captain, but friendship had him agreeing with Nick's borderline insubordination. "Do us all a favor, Chakotay, and make love to that woman before we all wind up in the brig." "That will never happen," Chakotay muttered. "She refuses to have a relationship with a member of her crew." "But you aren't. You're Maquis." "I'm Starfleet now, Nick. We are one crew, one captain, and one frustrated would-be lover still sixty years from home and the chance of making a date." Nick nodded. He needed to speak to the captain and not about the history. She needed to come in for some counseling herself. He wondered who had the authority to compel her? "Come," he said, clapping Chakotay on the shoulder. "I feel like I'm down a quart. Join me in the Mess Hall and then I shall try to rewrite history." Children of the Night 02/24 By Lorelei Sieja Tom leaned carelessly against the console and crossed his arms. "Jenny," he began. The Delaney twin giggled. "I'm Megan. Jenny was transferred to waste management a month ago." "Megan. I knew that. So how 'bout tonight? Let's do dinner and a movie. I'll even make the pizza." She laughed again, leaning over to ensure that he had a clear view to her cleavage. She had her jacket half unzipped and the regulation gunmetal gray undershirt was absent. There was nothing between her and the opened zipper except smooth, creamy bosoms straining for freedom. "You do pizza?" she said doubtfully. "Since when do you ever have extra replicator rations?" He pulled her into his arms, suddenly needy. His breath caught. He wasn't in love with her. She was flirtatious and shallow. This wasn't about love. This was sex. And he wasn't sure he could wait until after the movie. "Tom, don't," she teased, rubbing her hips into his arousal even as she tried to push him away. "Ensign Paris!" Tom froze at the sharp command; embarrassment shading his face red. He held Megan a moment longer. Janeway would know just how far he had pushed the moment as soon as Megan stepped away from him. That made him angry. Hell, he hadn't held a woman in his bed for a long, long time. He was never cut out for celibacy. "Yeah, what," he muttered, squaring his shoulders and offering a half-hearted salute. "Delaney, you're dismissed," Janeway snapped. Megan shot Tom a quick sympathetic glance, then made her get-away. "I find your conduct unbecoming an officer," Janeway hissed. "So bust me again and I won't be an officer." "Gross insubordination, as well. You've earned three days in the brig. You can spend that time reviewing the Starfleet code and regulations. You will be tested on them before you return to duty!" Tom stared at her, his mouth open. The code was thousands of pages! The test was required only of those students specifically training for captainship. Tom's father had wanted him to pursue the captains training, but Tom had never wanted the responsibility. It hadn't been difficult to fail at the aptitude test that would have identified leadership abilities. Tom failed most of his written exams. Janeway tapped her comm badge and called for two security guards to escort him to the brig, adding further insult to injury. Tom glared at her, shrugging out of the guards' grip. "I know the way," he spat. Captain Janeway stood in the empty room, rubbing the back of her neck. She was so tired of this thankless job. Nick jumped, startled as the door chime broke his concentration. "Enter," he said. One of the Delaney twins burst into his office. She was uncharacteristically distraught. He couldn't yet tell the twins apart, as they were both rather shallow, silly girls, yet her rapid pulse and wide eyes were definitely about something more serious than a chipped fingernail. "May I help you?" "No! I mean, it's Tom. You've got to help him!" Nick sighed. This was no news. He'd been worrying over Tom since even before he'd fallen in love with Tom's ex-girlfriend. "Captain Janeway threw him in the brig! For three days! We weren't doing anything, really. Sort of. Just flirting. But she didn't say anything to me, and I mean, like, I kind of encouraged him. I didn't know she was there!" "It's all right," Nick soothed, trying to calm her thundering pulse. "I'll take care of it." She flung boneless arms around his neck and kissed him full on the lips. Startled, Nick pulled away from her. "I suggest you report back to duty, Delaney." She smiled brightly, no sign of her earlier concern. "Thanks, Nick! Say hello to your wife!" He saved his files and shut down the history he'd been working on. It was time to find out what exactly was going on. He knew the way to the brig. He'd spent time there, as well as Tom. Now, he walked there alone and unguarded, a respected counselor and not a suspected felon. He hoped he could have this straightened out soon. Tom didn't need this. Nick wondered how many more knocks he could take before he just stayed down. Tom paced the confines of his cell, his fury boiling and his speech barely intelligible. Nick understood that Tom and Megan had engaged in a little harmless flirtation and the captain over-reacted. He didn't understand Tom's rage. Nothing he said had any effect. Finally, he ordered the guard to drop the forcefield and let him enter. Then he dismissed the guard. "Okay, Tom. It's just the two of us now. Please, sit down." Tom tried. He sat, but his feet tapped a nervous tattoo on the floor. He sprang from the chair and resumed his pacing. Nick watched the tense body language, reached out with his vampiric senses and listened as much to what Tom wasn't saying to piece it together. Tom was embarrassed, annoyed, and wound up tight in a way that Megan could have offered some relief. He could offer to drink Tom's blood, too. It was passionate, intimate, and it would help him to know Tom better. But Nick had promised the captain that he would not bite the crew again. "Tom. I'll speak to the captain. She's not likely to change her mind, but I agree that she is in error here." "And what about that damn test?" Nick shrugged. "I'll find the manual on audio and you can listen to it. Do the best you can. It's not like if you failed the test she won't let you fly. You're still the best pilot aboard." Tom leaned against one wall in the corner and looked at Nick. He seemed years younger, once again reduced to a frightened, needy child. Nick hurt for him. "I won't promise anything, Tom, but maybe I can persuade Megan to visit you later." Tom shrugged indifferently, but the motion was forced. "What ever. Thanks for dropping by." Nick summoned the guard with his comm badge. "I'll get you through this, Tom," he promised. First Nick returned to his office to complete the assignment Janeway had given him. He didn't want her to have any ammunition in this next battle; it was too important that he win. Then he contacted the doctor. "On this ship, who can outrank the captain," he asked. The doctor was as bad as the computer, answering questions with the obvious. "An admiral outranks a captain, Lieutenant, and so no one on this ship fulfills that requirement." "What if a captain gets sick? Or injured? Or taken over by an alien mentality? Who can remove the captain from duty?" The Emergency Medical Holograph put down the test he had been running and gave Nick his full attention. "Well, if you put it that way, I suppose I have that authority, even though I hold no rank at all. Otherwise, if three of the five top-ranking officers all agree that the captain is incapacitated in some way, then they can have her temporarily removed from duty. It is a very serious step, however, as the officers could be brought up on charges of mutiny if their fears are ungrounded." Nick nodded, thinking it over. "May I ask why?" "The captain is not in full control," Nick began. "She seems edgy, over-reactive, almost vengeful. Trouble's brewing and if we don't deal with it soon, she's going to alienate the crew." The EMH rubbed the holographic image of his smooth-shaven chin. "I hesitate to agree with you, but I have detected a rise in her metabolic function. I've tried to treat it, but I suspect the problem is emotional more than systemic. Still, one does not remove a captain from duty for a short tempter. Half the captains in Starfleet would be on permanent medical leave." "Most captains are not on constant duty, Doctor. I think the stress of command is finally getting to her. Hell, it's getting to all of us." The doctor picked up his test again, although his attention seemed divided. "I will agree. We could all use a year of shoreleave, myself included. What is it that you want me to do?" Nick smiled. When he'd first been promoted to ship's counselor, he and the doctor had not worked well together. It was reassuring to feel that his opinion counted for something now. "I want her to come in for counseling," Nick said. The EMH dropped the test, possibly damaging data, but he didn't even notice. "You want her to what? She'll never agree to that, Nick. I have to practically blackmail her just to make her annual physical." "Of course she won't agree to it, doctor, that's why I'm here. I want you to order her to." "Now wait a minute!" "Doctor, do you know she threw Tom in the brig for a little harmless flirtation?" The EMH grunted. "Her report called it gross insubordination." "That's just Tom. You know how he is. Cut him a little slack. And more than half the crew is siding with him this time. If she doesn't work out her problems soon, I expect the brig will be full by the end of the week with me in it!." "I will consider it," the doctor said. When Nick started to argue further, the doctor held up a hand. "That was not an idle brush-off, Lieutenant. I will consider it, and I'll get back to you shortly." Nick whistled softly as he returned to his new quarters. Tom and he had worked together to remodel it, constructing a loft bedroom so he and B'Elanna could have a little more living space. It still didn't shine with a "woman's touch", for B'Elanna wasn't much in to decorating. She'd hung an object d'art on the wall that a crewmate had given her on the last Day of Honor, and her clothing was strewn on the floor between the bathroom and the closet. His paintings hung on the walls, his piano covered the table top. It wasn't fancy, but it was home. "Nick! You're back early," B'Elanna exclaimed, flinging herself in to his embrace. Nick hugged her fiercely. The day had started out so nicely, and ended all wrong. Now, in her love, he could forget his worries for at least a little while. She seemed to sense the need in him. She broke away and tugged the zipper of her jacket as she drew her tongue across her sharpened teeth. With a sudden movement, the jacket and undershirt were gone. Nick knelt before her, almost in adoration, as he assisted her in removing the rest of her clothes. Their passion exploded then in a wild frenzy as they gave all that they were to one another. Nick collapsed on her, resting his head against her breast for a few moments. He closed his eyes while she worked her fingers through the tangles in his hair. Slowly, he became aware that although she was completely naked beneath him, he was still mostly clothed. He pushed up on his elbows to gaze at her sheepishly. "I'm sorry, my love," he whispered. "What the hell for? Loving me?" B'Elanna grinned. She liked the slightly shocked look he gave whenever she talked tough. Nick was still more accustomed to soft, feminine humans, although she knew he was completely spellbound by her gruff, Klingon nature. "Never," he spluttered. "I mean, about taking you here, on the floor... we could have at least made it to the bedroom." "What's wrong with the floor? We'll make it to the bedroom eventually." She bit his ear then, grinning at the golden light of desire that returned to his eyes. Nick got to his feet and pulled her back in to his arms. "Okay. I'm not sorry. Now, why don't you slip into something I can tear off again, and I'll fix you dinner." B'Elanna laughed lightly as she left to do his bidding. "So, tell me about it. What went wrong between Tom and the Captain?" Ship gossip traveled fast, Nick remembered, as he set the table. He replicated chili and cornbread for B'Elanna and poured a glass of Buliga royalty for himself. He told her the unofficial, unadulterated version that he could never put in the history, knowing that B'Elanna would not let it go beyond this room. "Poor Tommy," she sighed. Nick looked at her closely, feeling a sudden jerk of jealousy. "How so?" She shrugged, missing the undercurrent of tension. "I know he's got a mouth on him and he doesn't really know how to get along some times, but it does sound like the captain over reacted." Nick agreed. "So, when are we going to do it?" "What?" Nick was sure she was doing that woman-thing again, those leaps of dialog that leave men lost and confused. "Smuggle Megan into his cell. If he's going to get busted for fraternizing with the crew, then he might as well go all the way, don't you think?" Nick laughed. "You have a point, you devious little vixen!" The covert operation wasn't too difficult to orchestrate. Nick put the guard to sleep with a hypnotic punch and left the forcefield off. Tom was not a dangerous criminal nor was he an escape risk. Then B'Elanna watched the halls as Nick smuggled Megan in to the brig. "You can stay a couple of hours," he warned her. "But not the entire night. And turn the forcefield back on when you leave." Megan giggled foolishly. "This is kind of erotic, Tom," she said. Tom flashed his notorious lopsided grin. "Glad to hear it. Thanks, Knight." Back in his quarters, B'Elanna made love to him again. Then, as the lethargy descended on him and he prepared to enter the deathlike slumber of the undead, she started to talk about children again. "B'El," he said. "I told you... I can't give you children..." His words were slurring slightly. He tried to concentrate, to speak clearly, but nature and instinct were hard to resist. "No children." "Nick, the doctor says otherwise. He wants to talk to you about it. Please go see him. Nick!" "Hmm?" "Is that a promise?" "Hmm." B'Elanna smiled. "I love you, Nick." Children of the Night 03/24 By Lorelei Sieja Chapter Two: Nick painted with Crewman Paulus early in his next shift. She didn't really need counseling any more. She was healthy looking, a pinkish glow to her complexion and a few extra pounds padding her slight figure. She was still a timid sort, but she had made some friends among the crew and her relationship with her husband had grown even closer. He suspected that he should be scheduling her art sessions during his free time instead, but he just wasn't that busy. He went to see Tom then, to ensure that his midnight visitor remained undiscovered. Tom looked much improved from the day before. He stretched out lazily on the cot, listening to the audio recording of the Starfleet regulations manual Nick had sent to him. He didn't appear to be paying attention, but Nick knew that behind the deceptive look of indolence was a sharp mind. "Doing okay?" Nick asked. "Great. Bed's a little narrow, but the food's not too bad," Tom replied sarcastically. Nick shrugged. "Neelix sent this for you." He lowered the forcefield to give Tom a napkin folded around a large piece of chocolate cake. Tom sprang from the bed and accepted the offering. "Tell Neelix I love him and I'm going to marry him in my next life." He wolfed the cake down with large bites, licking the frosting off his fingers carefully. "I'll tell him," Nick said, chuckling softly. He returned to his small office then, filling time by writing a note to his father. He missed him. He wondered what the ancient was doing now. Did he find time on his hands without his favorite around to pick on? He had other progeny, but none of them had ever meant even a fraction to him as he did. Sometimes the possessive love of his master was a heavy yoke, but now it was oddly comforting. His door chimed. The visitor did not wait for permission to enter. Instead, Captain Janeway burst into his office, hands on her hips and temper flaring. "What the hell does this mean," she demanded. Nick swallowed, forcing the sudden fear away. She may be his captain, but he was her counselor. She outranked him and he outdated her by more than a millennium. They met today as equals. He squared his shoulders and drew in a calming breath. "Good morning, Captain," he said smoothly. She glared at him without speaking. Nick invited her to sit down, but she refused. "You were too harsh on Tom," he stated. "You doubt my authority?" "No. I question your wisdom in this matter. I think you are under stress and taking it out on your crew. And before you deny it, ask yourself why you are yelling at me right now." Captain Janeway clamped her mouth. She continued to glare at him, but something changed. She couldn't help noticing the way that one lock of dark blonde hair wouldn't stay brushed back, the way his eyes, which so easily mirrored his emotions, were clear and guileless at the moment. She felt a warmth flush over her and hated herself for it. "The doctor ordered this, but I think you put him up to it," she said. "Guilty," Nick confessed. "Now, please, sit down. You have an hour to chat with me; you might as well get comfortable." She sat on the couch then and accepted a mug of coffee. Nick started with small talk to set her at ease. They talked about mundane things, then Nick guided the conversation towards Earth, towards the longing she felt for home and the guilt she suffered for her perceived failures. "It wasn't your fault that we were stranded," Nick reminded her. "I know it was the Caretaker that brought us here," she said, "but it was my responsibility. I failed to protect my crew and I have failed to bring them home." She was being pretty hard on herself, Nick thought. This was more than just a failed Starfleet Mission, though. This was probably a major character trait. She had always demanded perfection from herself and others. It made it hard for her to forgive those who had failed. She kind of reminded him of Natalie Lambert, the mortal coroner with whom he'd fallen in love back in the twentieth century. Since she was not exactly forthcoming with information, Nick thought maybe he'd share something of himself. "I knew this woman once," he began. "She was very smart. She was a medical examiner, which was mostly considered a "man's" job at the time. I know she felt some pressure to be the best in her field." "There have been women captains for three hundred years," Janeway snapped tersely. Nick shrugged, not allowing himself to take offense at her attitude. "She also loved me." "Did you bite her?" He blanched at her antagonism. "No, Captain. I loved her, but our attraction was not the result of the blood kiss. She was a friend at a time when I hadn't any. After a few years we both wanted something more. She didn't date mortals and we could never consummate our love. She changed. She wasn't friendly any more. She was critical and demanding. I didn't realize it until my partner died in a plane crash and instead of comforting me, she chewed me out. Things were never really the same between us after that." "And your point is?" Janeway looked indignant, not seeing the connection. Nick wondered how to word it delicately. Nat had been a frustrated woman, denied any outlet for her passionate, loving nature. It had nearly killed her. "You are a woman, Captain. Don't forget it. Being feminine and being weak are not the same." She sniffed, crossing her arms over her chest, but Nick sensed a chink in her armor. She was listening. Her commbadge beeped. Kim had something to discuss with her. She smiled brightly. "Duty calls. I have to go." "I'll see you tomorrow," Nick said to her retreating form. B'Elanna joined him then for another "lunch hour" date and afterwards, as he lay in her arms still drowsy from their lovemaking, she brought up the subject of children again. Nick snapped at her. "B'El! I said no!" "You did not. Last night you agreed to see the doctor." He was ready to deny it, but at her certainty he had a vague recollection of this conversation. "B'El, it isn't fair coercing me when I'm half asleep." "All's fair in love and war, Nick. I'm not saying we have to DO anything, just talk to him. Please, Nick! What harm is talking to him?" He gave in. He was a counselor now, after all. If he couldn't talk over his problems, then how could he expect his clients to? "Okay. I'll go, but under protest." Then he kissed her. "No time for that, Nick, he's waiting for us." "Now?" "Now." ***** "Nick, I'm glad you chose to come," the doctor began. The vampire followed him into the small office and sank into the utilitarian chair offered. B'Elanna sat beside him. She reached out to grasp his hand. Her fingers felt unusually cold and a little damp. Nick caught a whiff of her unique scent. She was terrified. He squeezed her hand gently, offering support. "Nick, when I drew tissue samples from your stomach some time ago, I had no idea that it would be such a traumatic ordeal for you. Since you were already going through it, however, I went ahead and took more than just stomach samples." Nick shrugged. He didn't remember it much. The vampire in him was very possessive lately. He couldn't even donate blood without unleashing the desire to kill. It was mildly embarrassing, but he shouldn't have to face the EMH very often. "Nick, as I understand, you were born mortal, 1179 years ago. Although men make millions of sperm every day, you must have stopped this process at the moment of your conversion. You do still retain mortal sperm, which are transported in semen during intercourse." "Doc, I learned about birds and bees a long time ago," Nick snapped, his irritation overpowering the embarrassment. "Just listen, please. You have told B'Elanna that you cannot father children, but that is not entirely correct. It is my duty to enlighten you. Your semen is no longer human "normal". It is mostly blood, which is too acidic for the sperm, and they are killed before conception can occur. If you decide you want to father children, you may want to consider invitro fertilization." Nick swallowed past the constricting in his throat. He could have a child? For centuries he had fought his vampirism, sought a cure, and not just so he could die a mortal's death. Much of it was the desire to have children, to be a father, to experience a life he had been denied.... Could having children really be as simple as the doctor implied? "Nick, you have a second condition now, though, which further complicates the issue. Your sperm are 1147 years old. You have very few left, and ninety percent in the sample I took were defective. At any point, this could change to 100%. If you and B'Elanna decide you want children, you should do so immediately. The longer you wait, the less likely your chances of success." Nick hardly heard a word of the warning. A smile spread on his eternally youthful face. He could have a child! Although mortality was beyond his grasp, he could at last experience fatherhood! "Would my child be mortal or a vampire?" he whispered hopefully. "Your sperm appear to contain only human DNA. However, there are minute traces of the vampire element in B'Elanna's blood stream. Although it does not affect her, it is impossible to predict how it could affect the child." B'Elanna stared at her new husband. He was glowing, if one could use the term to describe a man. She didn't have to ask his opinion about fatherhood. He wanted this, but was she ready? She had always assumed that she would have a child or two someday. She had been prepared to talk about the possibility of children, but this was so sudden, so immediate. "Doctor, I think Nick and I need to be alone," she said. "Of course," the EMH responded, rising from his chair behind the desk. "I will just be outside." As the door closed behind him, B'Elanna knelt before her husband. Taking his hands in hers, she gazed up at him. His clear blue eyes were luminous pools of emotion. "You want this, don't you?" she whispered. Nick swallowed, unable to articulate the depth of his feelings. His fangs descended and he pulled his young wife close. Nibbling at her throat, he struck, sinking his fangs deep into her vein to suck from her. B'Elanna returned the bite. She was overwhelmed by his passion, and through it all she saw the hope of his mortality blossom through the creation of a mortal child. This was a gift she could give him. As the spasms of their passion raked through their bodies, B'Elanna made a decision. "Doctor," she called. "We want to go ahead." Children of the Night By Lorelei Sieja The morning came for Tom's release. Nick met him and escorted him to his room to clean up and shave before facing the captain. There was still the matter of the exam. Tom's indifferent air couldn't quite conceal the rise in his body temperature or the wild pulsing in his veins. Then they entered her ready room. Janeway sat behind the large desk. She waited expectantly. "Yes?" "Reporting as ordered, sir," Tom said stiffly. Nick winced. The "sir" was essentially correct, but Captain Janeway didn't like to be called that and Tom knew it. Nick quickly stepped in to diffuse what threatened to be a volatile situation. "Captain. Tom is prepared to take the exam, Comprehensive Starfleet Code and Regulations, form 1080Z4105-A." Janeway glanced up sharply. "The 1080-A" Nick had hoped she would have overlooked that. "A" was audio-only for the blind and illiterate. "Yes, Captain. Did you want to test his knowledge of regulations or his reading ability? If you require a literacy proficiency exam, there are better tests than the 1080-" "Fine. The audio form will suffice. Report to the conference room. Tuvok will proctor the exam." Tom opened his mouth but Nick elbowed him sharply. Tom closed it again. "Yes, Captain," he said. Then he turned sharply and left. In the corridor, he sputtered indignantly. "Proctor the exam! What does she think I am, some errant school boy with notes scribbled on my shirt sleeve?" "Actually, I should think she'd be proud if you were scribbling notes," Nick quipped. Tom blushed in embarrassment. "You know what I mean," he grumbled. Nick nodded. "Yes, I do. And I happen to agree with you. But play along for now. You don't need any more brig time." "What if I don't pass this test?" Tom whispered, his face suddenly open and needy. "You'll do fine. Just do your best and don't worry about the rest." Tom shook Nick's hand. "Wish me luck." Then he stepped inside the conference room. Nick waited, listening through the nearly soundproof walls with his superhuman ability. The ship's computer recited the first question, and Nick heard Tom's answer, prompt and confident. He listened to the next three questions and answers, even hearing the drop in Tom's heart rate as confidence replaced anxiety. Nick smiled, one hurdle cleared. It was a good start. ...to a bad day. Next he had to face the doctor. The hope of children was comforting, but he still fought his instinct to flee from danger to protect himself. His hands were trembling and a fine blood sheen covered his brow by the time he entered sick bay. The doctor was quiet and understanding. Sickbay was empty except for the two of them; the lights were dimmed for the vampire's comfort. Soothing music played over the computer. Nick followed the doctor into the back surgery and lay down on the biobed. The doctor wrapped protective padding around his wrists and ankles before strapping on the reinforced restraints. Then, as the vampire howled in rage, the doctor swiftly took the samples he required. B'Elanna had been in earlier. He had extracted four eggs and artificially matured them in test tubes where they awaited fertilization. This ancient method failed more than it succeeded and was seldom used any more, but for Nick and B'Elanna, it was their only hope. Tomorrow he would place the fertilized eggs in her womb and then they would wait. His sensitive equipment would know within days if any of the eggs survived, but spontaneous abortion was very common. He would wait four weeks before running his scans. Any fetus that survived that long just might make it. He returned to the biobed then. The vampire was still enraged and therefore it was not safe to release him, for although the doctor was indestructible, sickbay was not as fortunate. The doctor spoke soft, soothing words, wondering if the vampire could hear or understand. He gave Nick a blood transfusion, which calmed him. Exhausted, the vampire drifted into the deep sleep of the undead. Only then did the doctor remove the restraints. The padding was bloodstained from the force with which the vampire had fought for his freedom, but already his wrists had healed. If only there were a way to isolate Nick's healing qualities as a medicine without putting humans at risk of transformation, he mused, but modern science could not work on the solution to a problem they didn't even know existed. Perhaps one day he could speak with that vampire doctor, Natalie Lambert? Nick felt disoriented when he awoke. B'Elanna was there beside him, kissing him passionately. "Are you ready to go get some breakfast, my prince?" she asked lightly. "Is it all over?" She nodded. "We'll know in a month. Now come along." Nick jumped off the biobed. He was beginning to feel like himself again. A shower and a full meal later and he was ready to face the world. Naomi Wildman cornered him as he was just leaving the Mess Hall. "There you are! I've been looking all over for you!" "I have to go," B'Elanna said. "See you later." Nick gave her a quick parting kiss, then turned his full attention on the precocious five-year-old. "Good morning, Naomi. What did you want to see me about?" "Our mural! You said we could start on it today. Seven finished copying the design on the wall, and Ensign Paulus helped me find the right colors." Nick held out his hand and she placed her small one in his with complete trust. Together they headed towards the main holodeck in the rear. It was part of Nick's plan to help the crew feel the ship was truly their home. Janeway hadn't liked the idea, but she had given her consent. They were going to paint one mural on one wall, a small first step to transform the drab gray into a warm environment. "Good morning, Nick," Paulus said brightly. He gave her a smile. "So, where do we begin?" Naomi had helped with the original design. It was a cartoonish style, depicting Voyager's journey through the delta quadrant. The ship seemed to smile as it dipped and swirled through space with the energy and colorful vitality of a Van Gogh. Nick took a paintbrush and a jar of gray paint. It would be the base for Voyager. Later black line would add definition, and several windows would be painted to resemble eyes. Nick painted the repeating pattern of the ship, Naomi painted several planets, and Paulus meticulously painted space, not as a black void, but in a colorful cobalt blue. As they worked, others came by and helped, until they had quite a crowd. That was the way murals were supposed to be done Nick thought, as they painted, they talked. "Nick, I've been thinking," Naomi announced. "I'm glad to hear it," he said. "I really like to play with you and Seven, and Neelix tells great stories. But, it would be even more fun to have a kid to play with." Nick nodded absently. He had said as much to Janeway some time ago. If only he could have convinced Kittim to stay with them, but the Liat child had found a home among his own kind and hadn't wanted to leave. "Mommy said she would like to have another baby, but my daddy isn't around. So I was wondering if you would help Mommy?" The others muffled their laughter, as they were eager to hear his response to the child. "Ah, Naomi, it doesn't work like that," Nick stammered. "Sure it does. Among humans anyway. You have to have a mommy and a daddy to make a baby. And Mommy says you've been like my daddy, the way you care about me. Can't you care about Mommy, too?" Until a day ago, he would have just simply replied that he could not father children, but now he was not so sure. He set down his paintbrush and knelt to be at her level. "Naomi, I do care about you. You're very special. And I care about your mother, too. But B'Elanna is my wife. I can't be with any other mommy right now, as I've made a promise to be with B'Elanna." Naomi's lower lip pouted and her forehead puckered thoughtfully. "Are you sure?" Nick nodded. "I guess. I could ask some one else, but I don't know who." "Naomi, I think you should talk to your mother first. You need her permission before you find someone to help make a little brother or sister for you." "Okay," Naomi agreed. "Smooth, Nick," Paulus whispered. "Pass the buck." Nick took up his paintbrush and resumed painting, trying to ignore the teasing of the others at his expense. "Nick?" Naomi asked then. "Tomorrow I want to learn about babies. Will you teach Seven and me?" Captain Janeway came to two more counseling sessions and neither had accomplished a thing. Nick worried, feeling that he had somehow failed the crew when six more were penalized for a host of minor offenses. Three pulled extra KP shifts and two forfeited free time, and one was sent to the brig. Nick heard more and more grumbling and not just from the former Maquis. Finally, he decided to try something different. The holodeck was proving useful in counseling Seven and he had used it with Tom as well. Maybe he'd take Janeway there. Later Captain Janeway stood outside the holodeck, scanning the still-wet mural critically. It was colorful and it did make her want to smile. Still, she missed the sleek, predatory look of the blue-gray corridors. Voyager was a scout ship, built for speed, to make a quick maneuver and a quicker retreat. It had never been intended as permanent home. "So, Lieutenant," she said to Nick. "Why are we here?" "You need more sandbox time," Nick replied simply. She shook her head. Although Nick spoke Standard, she often felt that he didn't speak the same language. She stepped through the doors with him and entered a programmed world that was achingly familiar. A wide stretch of sand spread out before her. Nick kicked off his shoes and urged her to do the same. The sand was hot on her feet. The sun had set, a requirement for her vampire counselor, but a full moon illumined the holographic beach on the southern part of Lake Michigan. Nick led her to the water's edge where a blanket was spread out for them to sit upon. Two pails and small shovels were set in the sand at the edge of the blanket. "This is silly," she snapped. "I have a ship to run." "Which you will get back to in an hour, Captain," Nick said firmly. She sat down then. The air even smelled familiar, she thought wistfully. Warm, wet... a mixture of seaweed and alewives* and grilled hamburgers and sun tan lotion. She wiggled her bare toes, remembering how it felt when hot sand covered them. She took the shovel absently and scooped sand over her feet. Nick started building an elaborate sandcastle that resembled his home in Brabant, complete with moat and chapel and keep. He kept trying to get her to speak about her family, but Janeway wasn't ready to get that personal. She sidestepped his questions with increasing difficulty. "Tell me first about your father," she challenged. "LaCroix?" "No. Your mortal father. I understand that you had one." Nick shrugged indifferently, but she caught a sad, wishful look before he buried it. "I can't, Captain. I don't remember him." "That's a lame excuse," she said. "I hear your memory's pretty good most of the time." "I know. But I was wounded in 1996, a gunshot wound to the head. It destroyed a part of my brain and if not for the vampire within, I would have died. My wounds healed, but some memories were lost forever." "I'm sorry," she comforted. Nick shrugged again. "Needn't be. He's long gone now, Captain." "My father died a year before hostilities broke out with Cardassia," she whispered. Nick knew that much, but he encouraged her to continue. He knew she had to talk about it. "I watched him die," she said. "I couldn't save him. I failed him." "He knew you couldn't save him." "No. He always expected me to succeed," she said bitterly. "In anything. When I was a little child, he always had some puzzle for me to solve, an equation, or a challenging game. I would struggle all day to please him, and then when he came home, I would proudly show him what I had learned. He never praised me. He would just quietly give me another puzzle. Phoebe never had to do puzzles. He just loved her. And I hated her for it." Nick knew that was how she felt. It didn't matter if it were true or not. Perhaps Admiral Janeway had encouraged his first born, sensing that she had a quick mind and was destined for greatness. Perhaps the second child had never been a scholar. The truth didn't matter now, only Janeway's perception of it, for that was what guided her actions. "And what would happen if you didn't solved the puzzle," Nick asked. "I don't know. I never had to find out." Nick sensed her withdraw from him then. There was a stubborn set to her jaw and her eyes looked hard, indifferent. He couldn't push her too hard. Perhaps, he could lead her back. "I used to feel that nothing I ever did was good enough for LaCroix," he mused. "He was a harsh, relentless teacher. He demanded that I learn not just the skills of the vampire, but he wanted me to perfect my social skills as well. I had been a knight, a soldier trained in war, but as his child, I became a prince. He forced me to further my studies of the classical languages, literature, dance and philosophy. He demanded I study gymnastics, rhetoric, logic, music and art. Failures were punished, but successes were acknowledged with no more than a quiet acceptance that he'd known I could succeed all along. At times I hated him." Janeway listened sympathetically. Her father had been kind, if perhaps too busy for the daughter that idolized him. He had never once struck her. Yet she knew Nick had been abused for centuries. She wanted to forbid LaCroix access to her ship, but she didn't know how she would ever enforce it. "So what did you do?" she asked then. "I killed him once." Janeway startled at the fierceness in his voice. His eyes were stormy, their color indistinguishable in the moonlight. "What do you mean?" "I was furious with him. We fought and I shoved a meat hook through his chest. I think it pierced his heart. He hung there, limp, his ancient blood dripping on the floor and I thought he was dead. I just left him there. I grieved all day. I had always thought I wanted my freedom from him, and yet, when I'd killed him, I missed him." Nick didn't tell her the rest of the story, how LaCroix had come back, and he'd killed him again, only this time with fire. LaCroix had slipped away somehow to lick his wounds. More than a year later he returned and beat Nick severely, yet Nick had hardly felt it as he rejoiced that he was no longer an orphan. "LaCroix tried to tell me that blood was thicker than water," Janeway recalled. "He said that if I forced you to chose between him and me, you would always chose him. I didn't want to believe it. But, I sense that he was right." Nick let silence answer her. "How can you love him? He's a beast!" She hadn't meant to snap at him, but she really needed to know. "Just because he doesn't praise me doesn't mean he's not proud of me," Nick said. "And even when he doesn't hug me, I know he loves me. I can tell by the way he looks at me when he doesn't think I'm watching. Bby the way he comforts me when he thinks I am asleep, how he always protects me from harm. He could never tell me in words what was in his heart, but I had only to look into his eyes to know the truth." She blinked then. She knew her father had loved her. She knew deep down that he would have been proud of her today if he had survived. Then Nick lightened the poignant moment by dumping a shovel full of sand down her shirt. She screamed, threatened to demote him, but the vampire simply laughed. He let her bury him in the sand that was quickly cooling with the absence of the sun. She stared up at the familiar stars in the holographic sky over Indiana. "I miss you, Dad," she whispered. *AUTHOR'S NOTE: Alewives are little fish. In the '70s the lake was suffering from polution and fertilizer run-off from the farms. It was being choked with an overabundance of algae, and it was killing the alewives. They would wash ashore, huge "banks" of dead, smelly fish, covered with flies. I'm not sure what measures have been taken to stop this, but the beaches are cleaner now. Children of the Night By Lorelei Sieja CotN05 Chapter Three: Nick folded his hands behind his head and stared at the skylight above the bed. Thin white stripes periodically brightened the black void as they warped through the stars. He loved the night sky, but this was still so alien. He missed the moon. "Nick?" B'Elanna reached up to caress his face, discretely searching for the tears she suspected she'd find. "What's wrong?" He felt comforted just knowing that he didn't have to hide from her. She knew he was a strong, fierce warrior, the tears were not a sign of weakness but rather strength of character. She knew him well, and accepted everything about him totally and completely. It was the most erotic gift anyone had ever given him. "I was just thinking about the night," he mused. "It has been twenty years since I danced beneath Earth's moon. I miss the tender warmth caressing my face, how he fills me with his mystic force." "His? Earth's moon is a man?" Lightly she licked at his blood tears. Nick chuckled although the somber mood did not yet lift. "Humans often call him a man because the way the shadows fall on the cratered surface resembles a man's face. Legends of our origins claim that a human woman, Lilith, turned against both God and Devil to mate with the moon and create the children of the night." "You mean vampires." "And others." B'Elanna snuggled closer. Nick wasn't responding to seduction now. Perhaps he just needed to talk. She moved her hand away from his sensitive neck to trace paths through the light dusting of pale hair on his chest. She loved everything about him, but his chest was one her favorite parts. She loved to curl up against his shoulder, to feel cherished in his arms, and then, if she was very still, she would feel the pulse of his heart, a reassurance that he was real, that he did exist, and he was here with her. "Are we wrong, B'El?" "Hm? Probably. About what?" "About trying to have a child. This is no kind of life for a kid, on this ship, lost in space, isolated from the rest of humanity. I have wanted to be a father for over four hundred years, but I can't help feeling that this was perhaps the most selfish decision I have ever made." "Nick, don't," B'Elanna said. She rolled on top of him to look him in the eyes. "Wanting a baby is a very normal, healthy desire. It is instinct, basic survival. All creatures have a desire to procreate, from the single-celled ameba to the great space creature, Gomtuu." "But," "No, Nick. We are all children of the night now. You, me, Naomi, the Captain... we all exist in space with no sun and no moon, only an endless sea of stars that will never look familiar. One day we will reach home again, but our child will not long for Earth the way we do. He or she will be happy here, as it is all he knows." Nick hugged her tight. "I love you, B'El." "I know." ***** Three weeks later... Captain Janeway relaxed in her command chair. She sensed her ship thrumming all around her, its many systems working together quite smoothly for a welcomed change. For months, in fact, they had been graced with smooth sailing. She had been depressed for a while, but somehow the ship's counselor had helped her. She couldn't even recall what exactly they had discussed, only that after making sandcastles with the antiquated vampire she had felt the melancholy lift and the joy of command return. She patted the smooth gray console of her ship affectionately. Historically, captains thought of their ships as capricious women, perhaps because they themselves tended to be men out at sea for months on end leaving wives and lovers behind. She knew of some female captains who in turn gave their ships male personalities. They spoke about them like petulant husbands, demanding that they sacrifice everything - time, energy, and youth - to them, and they gave little in return. But Janeway had come to think of Voyager more as a child, a very spoiled child. Voyager wanted her undivided attention. The ship needed constant care, supervision and guidance and it gave her not one moment's peace. She had put her own life on hold. Until they reached home, Janeway's only identity was "Starship Captain." She could not be "wife, friend, lover". She blinked, pinching the bridge of her nose as she struggled to regain the decorum required of a bridge officer. Damn emotions! The truth of it was, she was not unhappy. If she could go back five years, to the time before she'd ever met the prisoner Tom Paris, or the half-baked scheme to use him to locate the Maquis rebels, she wouldn't change a thing. Their Delta quadrant adventures had had ups and downs, but all of it had been so vivid, like Technicolor Oz, and her life before was just black-and-white Kansas. Well, Indiana, actually. Pushing out of her chair, Janeway strolled around the bridge. Her crew was aware of her presence, but no longer disturbed by her hovering over their shoulders. The Maquis part of the crew had taken years to adjust to that. Tom was at the helm, managing the flight controls. Since the incident a few weeks ago, his behavior had been exemplary. She knew it was only a matter of time before the "old" Tom returned, unfortunately. He had such potential and he wasted it with attitude. He had not yet asked how he had scored on the 1080-A. She had not volunteered the information. Ensign Tom Paris had aced the most difficult exam Janeway had ever had to take. She had scored only a 93 percent and that had been one of the highest marks on record. If any one besides Tuvok had been proctoring the exam, she would have been suspicious, but as it was, there was no other conclusion. Beneath the cocky arrogance and insecurity, Tom Paris was probably the most brilliant person on the ship. She didn't understand him. Sometimes she wasn't even sure that she liked him. But she was determined to help him to achieve his potential. Perhaps, locked in his cluttered intellect, was the ability to create the technology that would get them home? Kim worked at Ops and Tuvok stood at the tactical console. Nick was on the bridge today as well, catching up on the sensor logs, which he used in writing their history. There hadn't been much of interest to write about lately, which was just as well. The young looking, newly-married vampire hadn't had his mind much on his duties. She watched him work for a few moments, feeling her pulse quicken. He was very pleasant to look at. His eyes were deep blue and as mutable as time; each expression existed only in the now, and then faded into memory. His dark blonde hair was brushed back for the moment, but often she had seen it hang boyishly over one eye. He moved with elegant grace and an almost princely bearing. He looked up at her suddenly. "Is there something wrong?" he asked. Janeway put a steel clamp on her thoughts and gave him a blank look. "No, Nick. Nothing. So how's married life treating you?" He grinned, his face transformed into an almost angelic expression, which she knew was devilishly deceiving. "Just fine, Captain," he said. "Why, are you considering giving it a try yourself?" Janeway laughed. "Not on this trip. I'll pass." Nick shrugged, returning to his task. She walked closer to the viewscreen. The tiny hairs at the back of her neck tingled. Something was out there... yet all she saw was more black space and tiny zips of light flashing past. When she turned to finish her little stretch, she caught the look of puzzlement on Tuvok's nearly expressionless Vulcan face. Her heart fluttered for a moment. She could feel with a captain's sixth sense that something was about to happen. "What is it, Tuvok?" "There appears to be a beacon ahead, which is issuing a distress call." His eyebrows drew together in a frown. "They are hailing us." She didn't speak for a moment. They were in the middle of nowhere. There were no technologically advanced societies within a two-month journey in any direction. How could knowledge of them have reached this area and who was in distress? She sensed a trap, although duty compelled her to respond. "Let me hear the message," she said. "It is in a broken Kazon dialect," the Vulcan continued. "Let me adjust the translators." That was even more puzzling. The Kazons were the first enemies she had made in the delta quadrant, but they were 13 thousand light years behind them. She waited impatiently. The message sounded fuzzy and garbled. Kim adjusted the sensors to clear it up. Then a deep voice addressed her by name. "To Captain Janeway of the Starship Voyager! We be journeyed to you from Chupki Na. Respond." The message repeated then, over and over, until Janeway gestured for him to discontinue. She faced Tuvok, every bit as puzzled as he was. "What do you make of it?" "I do not believe they are Kazon, Captain." "No, of course not," she agreed. The Kazon had been the dominant force in their sector and one dialect or another was spoken by just about any advanced society. She looked at Kim, Nick, and then Tom, wondering what any of them made of the strange message. "I don't recognize the reference to "Chupki Na," Captain," Kim said. "That word isn't in our translators." Nick shrugged. "I don't remember it, either." Which was odd. Nick had a nearly perfect memory. All eyes turned then to the pilot. Tom stared at his controls without moving. He looked ashen and his hands were trembling. "Chupki Na," he began, pronouncing the word a little differently, "is the Mufak word for Yellow Rock. It is the third planet of the B'Tak system. We were there four and a half years ago." Janeway rubbed her forehead with her fingertips. They didn't need this, not now. Tom had suffered terribly on Yellow Rock when an alien race had kidnapped him and sold him into slavery. She had searched for him for months before she'd been able to rescue him. She glanced at Nick, wondering if Tom had mentioned his ordeal there to the vampire counselor. Nick looked clueless. She sighed and sank back into her command chair. It was time to make a decision. "Tom, all-stop. Tuvok, beam the beacon aboard and have a look at it. We will respond to this call, but we will go in with our eyes open. I want to know who is contacting us and how they got here ahead of us. Kim, work with Tuvok. Nick, you can dig through the archives and download the Kazon languages back into the translators." Children of the Night By Lorelei Sieja Nick completed his assigned task long before the mystery of the probe had been uncovered. At the end of his shift, he returned to his quarters with a light step to greet his Klingon bride. B'Elanna was the best thing to happen to him in centuries! She was stormy and passionate, alternatively loving or demanding and she treated him as an equal. She was neither repulsed by the vampire nor afraid of him. Nick felt almost human in her presence. He had some news to share with her this evening. He hoped she would be pleased, but with her, it was hard to predict. He thought back over the past month and their private little battle. It was so hard to keep anything private on this ship, but as far as he could tell, no one else except the doctor knew. Last night, after they had made love, Nick had thought he heard the flutter of tiny hearts, too faint and too rapid to be B'Elanna's. Tonight, he would tell her. He ordered a special meal for her, something he knew she particularly enjoyed. Then he lit dozens of candles in their small apartment to cast it in perfect subdued lighting. Soft music played in the background, a selection of romantic melodies from the past century. All of it was very restful, but it wasn't quite right. He thought about what to add, how to break the news to her, to create the perfect mood. Then he knew. Counting his ration coupons, he slipped into the replication center and searched through the archives for a bentwood rocker. He had it transported directly to their apartment, where he set a small throw pillow on one arm and put a big, red bow at the top. Then he sat and waited and grew more worried by the minute. Finally, he felt her draw near. She seemed preoccupied and a little tired. Nick wondered if maybe he should wait a few more days. Maybe she would see the romantic dinner and just long for a nap? But, she was probably tired because of the pregnancy. She had a right to know. The door hissed softly, parting to admit his dark and stormy lover. B'Elanna noted the candles. She stared at the room, even as a sigh escaped her. Then her eyes rested on Nick, looking oddly wistful, like a child who wonders if he has pleased or offended his parent. She felt her tiredness lift as she considered her husband's needs above her own. "Good evening, Nick," she said, and her smile came easily. Nick's lips parted in a beautiful smile. "My love," he whispered, and scooped her into his arms. He kissed her tenderly on the forehead. He loved to kiss the boney ridges, which she had always despised, as he confirmed his love for her. B'Elanna nipped at his throat playfully. Nick pulled back, the spark of desire already igniting golden flecks to the deep blue of his eyes. "Patience, my love," he promised, escorting her to the table. B'Elanna grinned at the food as he presented it before her. Tacos, refried beans, and a tall Margarita made an interesting romantic dinner. "Nick, this is perfect," she reassured him. He poured his own beverage then and joined her. He listened as she told him about her day, about the little things that went on in engineering. He told her a bit about the alien probe they had uncovered. She seemed concerned when he mentioned that the message contained some Mufak words. "Tom never told me about his ordeal on Chupki Na," B'Elanna said. "But I know it affected him greatly. He was changed somehow. Sadder, wiser. Finally able to express himself. Before then, he'd not had a real relationship with anyone on the ship." Nick nodded. He didn't really want to discuss Tom tonight. He had already suspected that he would need to clear large blocks of time for him. The fear and shame that radiated from the young pilot when he'd heard the probe's message had struck Nick like a tidal wave, and he and Tom weren't even related. B'Elanna finished her meal and sipped at the tangy fruit drink. "This is supposed to have salt around the edge of the glass, you know," she pointed out. "It's also supposed to have alcohol," Nick said. "B'Elanna, that's sort of what I want to talk to you about." "What? You think I drink too much? Give me a break. What with all the rationing and limited shore leaves, no one really drinks anymore." Nick took her small, slim hand and gently pulled her to her feet. "Come, I'll show you," he whispered. He led her to the rocking chair. She stared at it with puzzled disinterest. "You want to redecorate, Nick?" A puff of breath escaped his lips. Why were words failing him now? "Come, sit down," he urged. When she was comfortably sitting, he knelt before her. Taking her hands in his, much the way she had when they first discussed having children, he gazed up at her. His expression was conflicted. He wanted to feel joy, but fear was encroaching. "B'Elanna, it worked," he whispered. "What worked, Nick. You've got to help me here." She was getting impatient. "The doctor's plan. B'Elanna, love. You're pregnant. We're going to have a family." She stared at him. Her mouth dropped open, but no words came out. She felt a moment of elation, quickly replaced with dread. She was in over her head. A baby? What ever made her think she could be a mother? "How do you know? Are you sure?" Nick nodded. "I heard the hearts beating last night. I should have told you then, but you were so tired and I wanted to make it special." "Maybe we should see the doctor," she hedged, hoping maybe the EMH could prove him wrong. "Yes, love, we will. But not tonight. B'Elanna, he was very successful. There is more than one heart beat." B'Elanna brushed that aside. "So the child has a klingon constitution. We have a redundant heart." Nick clasped her hand tighter. "I promise to help you. I'll be there, for the late night feedings and diaper changes and I'll do my best to be a good father. But you're going to have to take it easier now. I don't think you should go on away missions and put our children in danger." "Nick. I am not fragile. Klingon women are very healthy. We have little trouble bearing children. And what do you mean, children?" Nick laid a hand low on her abdomen and grinned up at her hopefully. "B'Elanna, my love. They all survived." The dread intensified. The doctor had collected sperm and artificially fertilized four of her eggs, then planted them all inside her. Nick had questioned using four eggs, but the doctor had said that it was standard procedure, to ensure that one of them survived. "Oh, well, I guess I'd better see him immediately, then," she murmured, "so he can terminate the other three." "No!" Nick regretted shouting at her immediately. He apologized. "You can't do that," he said desperately. "Nick. I am not going to give birth to a litter. We discussed having a baby. A baby, as in one. If I carry all of them, they might not any of them survive." When he looked at her, twin rivers of blood stained his face as he wept. "Please, B'Elanna. Don't kill my children!" She caressed his cheek, brushing at a tear with her thumb. "Why is this so important to you? The legal issue of terminating an unwanted pregnancy was decided centuries ago. I know you're a little behind the times, Nick, but surely you understand this." Nick had to make her understand. He knew he could not force her to do his will. He could only implore her. "I have killed thousands in my life," he began. He had told her already about his growth as a vampire. At first he had killed indiscriminately, feeding his eternal blood lust as he had been taught. Later, consumed with guilt and remorse, he tried only to feed on the guilty. That had proven wrong, as it made him judge and jury, and he often made mistakes. He tried giving up killing altogether, denying his vampiric nature. Then, whenever the beast did break loose, the devastation was merciless. Now, he only killed in self-defense, or in defense of others. He had killed a Buliga soldier, but even Captain Janeway had accepted that. "I cannot give back life to the multitudes. I cannot undo the terrible wrongs I have committed. I can only make a new start and try to live rightly. I thought I could never have children, never know the joys and trials of raising an infant. Now, you have given me this chance. Please, do not kill my children!" "Nick, what if, because I do not terminate the extra fetuses, we lose them all?" "Then that is our destiny," he answered. B'Elanna remained silent for a time. What was two babies, or even three? There were enough interfering crewmates to help. She would not suffer for want of a babysitter. And it did seem so important to Nick. And their children would not be lonely, precocious little things like Naomi. They would have each other to play with. B'Elanna had often dreamed of having a twin when she was little. Of having someone just her age, who shared her mixed blood, who understood her feelings without having to be told. When she was very little, she had even created an imaginary twin. Who was she to deny her baby that which she had desired? Maybe, having twins was truly a gift, as Nick believed? "But Nick, you said they all survived," she said, as if just remembering. He nodded. "We are going to have five little children." "Five! Gods no, not five! Nick! He only fertilized four eggs! You can't be right about this! Five!" B'Elanna burst from the rocking chair and began furiously pacing the small confines of their remodeled apartment. Nick watched her pace. He knew this was her way of dealing with emotion. Klingons tended to react to everything with anger. Love, anxiety, desire, curiosity, grief, hate, jealousy, resignation... the full range of emotions was displayed only in anger. He moved to the rocking chair. While he waited, he imagined holding an infant in his arms. He gazed at it adoringly as he began a slow rocking motion. He felt something tug inside him. Something precious. Fresh tears welled in his eyes and threatened to overflow. B'Elanna could always do that to him. His master had despised any show of emotion and tried to beat it from Nick, until all he could feel was hate. It had nearly succeeded. Nick cocked half a grin as he caught the similarity between LaCroix and B'Elanna. Both felt safe in their anger, but were threatened by anything else. B'Elanna stopped her pacing. She saw her husband smile wistfully; his arms seemed to cradle a phantom child. Her heart was torn. She longed to give him his family. But how could she mother five infants? She would fail. And five children would grow to despise her, as she despised her own mother. She just couldn't do it. "Nick," she said firmly, getting his attention. He looked at her with boyish innocence. It was hard to remember that he was as old as he claimed. She just didn't have the strength to hurt him. Not now. "Nick, I have to have some time to think." He nodded his understanding, although she saw the crestfallen expression. "I am going for a walk. Alone." Nick stood mutely as the doors hissed closed behind her. Captain Janeway entered the research lab where Tuvok and Kim had been dismantling the secrets of the alien probe all night. Kim looked a little disheveled and bleary-eyed, but Tuvok was as neat as always. "It does not appear to be Kazon in design," Tuvok began, giving her a litany of what it was not. It was not Thurian, or Talaxian, or Ocampan, or any of the species they had met at the start of their journey, nearly five years ago. However, there were parts that were made of the Thurian yellow ore, a mineral indigenous to Chupki Na, only. Chupki Na was thirteen thousand light years behind them. How had this probe, and the ship that launched it, beat them here? Was there a new technology that they could benefit from? Where was the ship now? She tried to still the hopeful enthusiasm that raced through her thoughts, as she returned her concentration on the officers before her. "This appears to be a trigger of sorts," Kim explained. "I'm not sure what it will set off. It doesn't appear to be a weapon at all. Perhaps, it is a timer." "For what?" "To set off the next buoy. Like a map, to lead us to them." Janeway nodded. "All right then. Erect a level three security field around the probe, just as a precaution, then you may activate the switch. Tuvok, keep a transporter lock on the probe, in case it becomes necessary to get it off the ship in a hurry." A blue light shimmered around the buoy. Then Kim flipped the small switch. Nothing happened. Until Janeway's comm badge bleeped. "Captain Janeway," Tom Paris called. "We're picking up another message. It is the same as the first, dead ahead." Janeway smiled at her officers. "Get some rest. I'll contact you when we've reached this next bread crumb." Kim sighed with relief. "Thanks, captain." Tuvok waited. "Is it necessary to respond to these probes at all, Captain? We had more enemies than friends in that region. How do you know the probe is from anyone we want to see again?" "I don't, Tuvok," she admitted. "But, no one in that sector had technology as advanced as ours. How did they get here? I have to know." Tuvok nodded curtly. He could remind her of the human proverb regarding curiosity, but he knew from experience that it would prove pointless. He'd better get that rest. He suspected that it might have to last him for a while. Part 7 Children of the Night By Lorelei Sieja Chapter Four: Nick waited for her for hours. Through their link he felt her anger begin to fade and then he became aware of her fear and uncertainty. All new parents experienced similar thoughts of self doubt, but hers was magnified by the father who had abandoned her, the mother who had failed to understand and to nurture her, and by her own failures to adjust to her mixed heritage. Only here, on Voyager, had B'Elanna ever found success. She was chief engineer of a starship! She had earned her captain's respect and the love of a vampire. Her confidence was growing, but it was still as a small, vulnerable child compared to the well-trained soldiers of doubt. He had left her alone long enough. He wouldn't push her for an answer, but he needed to be with her. Closing his eyes, he felt for her in the vibrations of his inner thoughts. Then he followed the vibrations. He was lead to the back of the ship, several levels down, to the main holodeck. He hesitated outside only a moment, then stepped through the doors. He heard babies crying. The holodeck was a nursery with five sets of everything. Five wooden cribs with five baby quilts, five stuffed teddy bears, five musical mobiles. B'Elanna sat on a rocker - a twin to the one Nick had given her, cradling an infant. She smiled at it, stroking one cheek with a finger. Nick went the cribs and observed the other four infants. Two were golden-haired, a boy and a girl, and purely human. With their blue eyes and wide smiles they were miniature replicas of Nick. They gazed contentedly at the mobiles dancing just out of their reach. Two more babies were human and Klingon mixed, with boney brow ridges, and sharp baby teeth. One slept, but one was howling. Nick reached for the crying infant, cuddling it instinctively. He found a holographic bottle and offered it to the child to quiet it. Then he looked at the baby in B'Elanna's arms. That infant was fully Klingon. There was no sign of Nick in its features at all. Still, B'Elanna looked radiant as she gazed at it. The infant grasped on to her finger and brought it to its mouth, teething on it. B'Elanna didn't seem to mind the pain, although Nick saw the sharp points of baby teeth. Nick didn't understand. "He's still beautiful," B'Elanna whispered. "Our children should have something of me in them," Nick mentioned, surprised that she hadn't thought of that herself. "I know. First I created a purely human child, in the image of you. I found he was easy to love. Then I decided to see what your daughter would be like and she was still so much like you, I couldn't help but love her. I thought for sure that the mixed Klingon children would be grotesque, and that I would despise them, but I still found myself drawn to them. I wanted to hold them, and keep on holding them, and never put them down. So I created this Klingon infant. He is everything I ever hated about myself. But I could not hate this little baby." Nick saw the rare tears slip down her cheeks unchecked as she cradled the Klingon infant. His baby had finished her bottle. He moved her to a shoulder and patted her back after first protecting himself with a quilt. The baby burped something foul smelling onto the quilt, then drooled as she shoved a fist between her lips. He didn't want to push B'Elanna, but he did want to understand. He waited hopefully. "Nick," she gasped then, and stared up at him through unshed tears. "I love them all! I don't want to lose a single one of them!" Nick's mouth dropped open. For a silent breath, he was speechless. Then he whooped loudly. The sudden noise made all five infants cry. B'Elanna stood, moving in to hug Nick awkwardly around the two crying babies they carried. He kissed the top of her head and thanked her, again and again. They remained in the holodeck for hours, rocking each of the holographic infants until all five were clean, dry, fed, and sleeping. Then quietly, reverently, they called the computer to end and save program. Nick escorted his bride back to their apartment, still too awestruck to speak. In silence they made love, and in silence they slept. The following morning, they were both anxious. "Janeway is going to shit bricks," B'Elanna muttered, slipping in to crude vernacular as she did whenever she was too upset to think straight. "And the doctor is probably going to try to talk "sense" into us," Nick admitted. "I don't want anyone to know." Nick inspected at her. "Why? Are you having second thoughts?" "No, Nick. Never. I've made up my mind. But, I think that we deserve some time to enjoy this alone, before we face the battle I know will follow. Just let me be happy?" Nick smiled widely. "We'll keep it a secret for as long as possible. But, please promise me you'll take care of our family? And I'll try not to be too obvious in my concerns." "Agreed. Nick, do you know what they are?" "They're babies," he said, teasing her. "Boys or girls? How many of each? We can begin picking out names." He kissed her hand and he got up from their little breakfast table. They ate at least one meal a day privately now, although it was still more convenient to eat in the mess hall. "Boys and girls have a different scent," he explained, "but I am unfamiliar with the Klingon scents. I can't be sure. I think there are three boys and two girls." She nodded, trusting her husband completely. It didn't matter that the doctor had only implanted four embryos. Nick said there were five infants. It was a gift, a special blessing, and she would not question it. She also felt strangely peaceful having made her decision. Since she and Nick had been granted this joy, then she trusted that all would be well. They would have five healthy babies. She could not waste energy worrying otherwise. "We can talk about names tonight, my love," Nick promised. "I'd better get to work." B'Elanna patted her still flat stomach. It was strange to imagine the new lives growing inside, but it was a warm, cozy feeling. She moved to Nick's rocking chair and closed her eyes, rocking back and forth as she massaged her abdomen. "I'm going to do my best, kids," she promised. Had her mother done her best? Perhaps. B'Elanna wished she could talk to her now, confront her on her failures and beg her for help. She had been truthful when she told Nick that Klingon women had relatively easy pregnancies compared to humans. Still, it was a little scary. She was grossly unprepared for all of this. Well, being late to work wouldn't help. She got up and left, wondering how long she could conceal her pregnancy before she needed a uniform the size of a shuttle. Nick whistled as he entered his office. When he'd first been promoted to counselor, it had terrified him. He still felt a moment of panic whenever a new client walked in, but so far, he'd managed fine. Paulus was doing well. She had come out of her self-constructed prison and had blossomed into a lovely person. Now she was even giving voice lessons and singing regularly at Neelix's festivities. She still painted; Nick was still giving her lessons once a week. He didn't really feel like she was still in counseling, since the sessions centered around their art, but Paulus didn't seem to need anything else from him now. He had to work with Seven regularly. She intimidated him easily, although she was almost as young as Ensign Kim and even more naïve at times. Nick usually took her and Naomi into the holodeck and gave them some adventure in Earth history. He'd recreated the voyage of the Mayflower, to show them human's courage and indomitable spirit. Naomi had thought they were silly not to just transport where they were going. He'd taken them in the Apollo missions, and to the Oklahoma Land-run, and to the Statue of Liberty, and to the Grand Canyon. Naomi was learning at least as much as Seven. He enjoyed their little adventures together, although creating the holodeck trips was time-consuming. He wondered where to take them next? He still hadn't created a program to teach the "birds and the bees", and Naomi seemed to have forgotten her former interest in the subject. Maybe an idea would come to him. They weren't due in his office until tomorrow. That gave him a little yet time to think. He had seen one woman for a sleep disorder. They hadn't solved the problem yet, but they were working on it. He still knew of a few more things to suggest before he got worried. The doctor had already ruled out a physical cause for her problems before sending her to Nick. Other than that, his office was fairly quiet. His only other client was Tom. Tom would be by this morning. He didn't have an appointment, but Nick was fairly certain he would drop by. Tom refused to schedule appointments. To do so would be to admit that he had a problem and needed Nick's help, something he wasn't ready to face. And so he came "unannounced" almost every other morning, around 1100. That limited their sessions, as Tom always left in time for lunch, another of his controlling habits. Nick knew the young man had to admit to his problems sooner or later, but he felt that gaining Tom's trust was an important first step. He read Tom's Starfleet records again, trying to gain a closer understanding of the complex, conflicted officer. Tom was born on a starship, while his father was the Captain. His older sisters were Emily and Bonnie. The mother abandoned the family when Tom was three. Any information of his life between the age of five and twelve was missing. Then he was enrolled in the preparatory school in San Francisco, while his father, then an Admiral, taught at Starfleet Academy. His grades were sporadic, alternately brilliant and borderline failing. Later he attended the Academy. He was awarded for heroism when his survival mission nearly ended in disaster. His first posting was unremarkable, until something went terribly wrong at Caldik Prime. Nick knew something of what had happened then. Basically, he was ready to strangle Tom's dad whenever he met him. He closed the files as the eleventh hour approached. Before long his door chimed and Tom stepped inside. His lopsided grin was in place and his rolling gait was the same, but Nick felt his pain. Tom was hiding from it, yet seemed unaware of how loudly it radiated from him. Nick always tried for the "indifferent" attitude himself, when carrying on conversations with Tom. It seemed to put young mortal more at ease as it was something he related to. Nick asked what was happening on the bridge and Tom answered carelessly that they were following the probes like bread crumbs. They talked about the athletic competitions that were being scheduled since Neelix seemed to have run out of holidays to celebrate. Tom had been asked to join a volley ball team. "I haven't decided yet," he said. "They still need another, and I wondered if you wanted to play on our team." Nick hesitated. Volleyball usually meant lots of sand and sun. The game might only last thirty minutes, so his portable forceshield would protect him, but what if it were bumped by the ball during the game? "I could schedule our match to be played after dark, with artificial lighting, if that's what's stopping you," Tom mentioned. He was getting too observant, Nick thought. "That sounds good," he said. "I don't know much about the game, though." "That's okay. It makes me look better," Tom said, grinning again. "And the match isn't for another two weeks. I can teach it to you by then." Nick felt silence float around them. Tom needed to talk. He had something to say, but he didn't know how to get started. Nick thought for a few minutes before plunging ahead. "What was it about the probe that upset you?" Nick asked. "Chupki Na is a ghost from my past," Tom whispered. "I'm not sure I'm ready to face it. But, I know I have to." "A trade, then," Nick suggested. "I'll join your team. I'll give you an hour's play, for each hour's discussion about Chupki Na." Tom stiffened. His face became a hardened mask and Nick caught the unmistakable scent of fear in his blood. "I... can't," he breathed. They were at an impasse. That Tom wanted Nick's help was clear. He hadn't fled to the safety of the Mess Hall yet. His heart was racing wildly, nervous sweat beaded on his brow and hands. Nick felt totally inadequate, that he hadn't the words or knowledge how to help him. Long moments passed, yet Tom's pulse did not slow at all. Finally he glared at Nick. "Kim says you know things about us. That you see it in our blood." Nick hesitated. "Fresh blood does contain the thoughts and emotions of the victim for a short time." "Then take it from me," Tom challenged. Nick stared at the young officer. Although he tried to focus on Tom's face, his gaze drifted towards his neck to the pulsing vein there. His fangs itched. Gold flecked his eyes, yet he held back. "Confession is supposed to be good for the soul," he quipped, falling on adages when intelligence failed him. "Please?" Tom whispered. "Help me...." Nick took a step closer, but still held back. "What you ask can be dangerous. I might not stop before it is too late." His own words sounded odd around full fangs. Tom stared at the teeth of the vampire, so different and so dangerous. It was part of why he respected the counselor. Nick was a survivor. He had survived countless centuries, survived witch hunts and persecution, survived an abusive parent and three world wars, and still managed to find beauty in his existence. Tom wished he could be more like that. Tom had begun to think of him as the older brother he never had. "Death would be better than living like this," Tom whispered. Part 8 Children of the Night By Lorelei Sieja Nick tilted his head in a sign of assent. He saw in Tom's defeated slump something of himself; he couldn't refuse him. He went to the replicator and ordered two large bottles of the flat, artificial plasma, which he chugged instantly. He would not drink from a mortal while he was hungry. Then he turned back towards his client. "Did Kim also tell you the after effect?" Tom shrugged his shoulders. "A little. It's supposed to make me like you better." Nick saw the guarded look in Tom's eyes, the attempt to shield deeper emotions. He knew Tom no longer despised him. "All right. We'll try it." He stepped closer, standing behind Tom. He put one arm around Tom's chest. Tom stiffened at the touch. "Relax," Nick said. His voice was lower, softer, more seductive. His words whispered across Tom's neck. "Think back to Chupki Na. Remember it all. The temperature, the time of day. How you felt. What happened to you. Be there again..." Tom relaxed in his arm, leaning back against him. His head rested against Nick's shoulder, tilting away to bare the vein. His fear passed. New emotions filled him as he journeyed back in time. Pain, shame, anger, frustration... Nick inhaled deeply. The scent of the raw emotions was overpowering. He drew back, emitting a growl of victory as he struck. His fangs plunged deeply. Hot blood spurted into his mouth. Nick shuddered in ecstasy. This was what he was! He held the power of life and death. Then he turned away from his own passion to concentrate on the images held captive in Tom's blood. That gave him the strength to slow down. He sucked more gently, savoring the gift. As he felt weakness steal over his victim, he pulled back. He licked at the twin wounds until they scabbed over. Tom did not move. He remained in Nick's arms, leaning against his chest for support. Tears trailed down his cheeks, splattering on Nick's hands. And Nick knew why. He was there, with Tom, at the alien bar on Tunara IV when the smoke bomb overpowered him. He felt the raw pain as the poisoned gas burned his throat and lungs, the nausea as he was thrown into the cargo hold of a small ship. Nick experienced as Tom had the humiliation of the auction block when he'd been sold into slavery and the rage at being unable to defend himself. The dominant species, the Thurians, were massive creatures, three times the mass of the humanoid Mufak they enslaved. Tom had been mistaken for one of their runaways. The tears came harder now. Tom shook, trembling uncontrollably. Nick held him to his chest, but ran his fingers through Tom's hair consolingly. He swayed a little from side to side just like he had done to comfort the holographic infant and whispered in Tom's ear. He didn't say anything overly intelligent. He uttered words, soothing words, telling him that it was all right to cry. That he should let it all out, all the emotions he had been bottling up for these past years. Nick felt his own tears fall then, tears of compassion for all Tom had suffered, and tears of pain at the memories he know shared. He wondered that Tom would allow his touch... perhaps it was a result of the blood kiss, and yet, Tom seemed almost unaware of him. "I couldn't stop them," Tom whispered. "I know. They were too strong." "But I felt so impotent. I had thought the day I was sent to Auckland was the most humiliating day of my life, the day they first put me in shackles. When Captain Janeway came offering me a way out, I jumped at the chance. Even though she wanted me to lead her to the Maquis base, to betray the soldiers I had fought with, I would have done it. I would have done anything to get out of that prison. And then, suddenly, I was shackled again, imprisoned again, only this time, I had done nothing wrong. I was hungry all the time. I was overworked and beaten. And I didn't deserve it. Most of the time, when I'm in pain, it's the result of something I did, or didn't do, and I feel somehow justified, but this time..." Tom sobbed again, unable to continue. "I felt that way before," Nick mentioned. He didn't know if he should talk about himself. He should probably stick with Tom's problems, and keep the conversation around Tom. But, his suffering at the hands of the Saracens did bear some similarities. Perhaps, if Tom realized how much they had in common, he would be able to speak without the blood kiss. Tom remained cocooned in his arms, but the tears were falling slower now. He leaned in to Nick's touch, momentarily allowing the personal contact like one starving for affection. "Tell me," he whispered. Nick told him then. He continued to sway gently as he comforted Tom, and his voice was soft and mesmerizing. He told about the last battle he'd fought in the Holy Land. He told about his own conflicted emotions at battling the Saracens. Then, he told of the nearly fatal wound and being imprisoned. He was shackled, abused, raped, starved, suffering every indignity. When he had finally escaped, all he wanted was death. "How did you ever get over that?" "I went for a quick fix," he confessed. "When I was seduced with the promise of eternal life, unlimited power, freedom from pain and death, I embraced it. And spent a thousand years regretting it." "I don't want to be a vampire," Tom said. "I just want to be a man instead of a failure." "Tom, it wasn't your fault. Chupki Na was a terrible experience, but it was not your fault." Tom started to pull away from him. Nick loosened his hold, but supported the young officer. The loss of blood made him weak. Nick helped him to a chair. Then he ordered a sugared, fortified beverage from the replicator and passed it to Tom. "First I was sent to mine oar," Tom began. "Only, my jacket was gone, and I got sunburned. Then I got sunstroke. The first Thurian sold me to a doctor. I was treated and then sent to a sort of prison camp. There were only women and children there. This one slave girl took care of me and shared my bed. "I tried to ignore her advances. Janeway is quite definite about the "no-sex with aliens" rule. But this Mufak girl was kind to me. And I was alone. When I learned to speak her language, she told me that if she did not conceive soon, she would be destroyed. I was there only to mate with her. It was humiliating." Nick sensed something new, as he was closer to Tom now from the blood kiss. It wasn't the anger and shame he knew Tom suffered, but deep regret. "You loved her," he stated. "Dear God yes, I loved her! I don't think I had ever loved anyone before her, except maybe my sisters, but that was different. I needed her! We lived together for only a few months, but I felt close to her. I knew her feelings, was sensitive to her needs, and she to mine. I told her things about my past, that I had never told anyone. I told her everything, but she still loved me." "Why didn't you bring her back?" Nick knew Janeway wouldn't have been entirely opposed to the idea. She had adopted an Ocampan and a Talaxian into the crew by then, and later even a Borg. "She wouldn't come." Tom drew a deep breath. He finished the drink and set the glass on the coffee table. "I begged her to come. But the Mufak were simple, ignorant slaves. After the revolution, she was treated like a queen among her people, because of her relationship to me. She had learned to read. She said that on Chupki Na, she could make a difference. Her people needed her. And she had twin sons. They were four or five years old when I last saw them. Their life was on Chupki Na. And I couldn't stay. Leaving her was the hardest thing I have ever done. And at night, when I am alone in my bed, I know I made a terrible mistake." Nick let the quiet moment stretch in honor of the memory of Tom's first love. He closed his eyes to see her better. She had been very small, like all Mufak women. She had thick, coarse black hair that fell to mid thigh, and blue eyes - an unusual color among her people. Her slim brown hands were gentle. Her woman's figure was soft and shapely, barely concealed in the simple tunic of the Mufak slaves, and her complexion was warm and glowing, the color of maple syrup. Nick felt a growing arousal and struggled to remind himself that they were Tom's feelings and not his own. He forced the image of the Mufak woman away and replaced it with one of B'Elanna, her abdomen swollen with the new lives she carried. He smiled. "Tom, what do you think this probe means? Do you think she's changed her mind and come after you?" "No. The only Mufak word was Chupki Na. The rest of the message was part Kazon, part a strange soup of half a dozen languages. I have no idea what it means." Nick made a decision then. "It is my rotation to go on the next away mission, but if you would like, I will recommend that Chakotay take you instead. I think it is time for you to face your demons. Perhaps you can bury them then." Tom stood and nearly fell as a moment of dizziness overcame him. Nick steadied him. "You'll have to take it easy for a while," Nick said. "Do you want me to get you out of duty for the rest of the afternoon?" "No, I'll be fine," Tom insisted. "I just need to eat." Nick knew without checking that their session had extended through lunch. He adjusted the collar on Tom's gray shirt until it concealed the vampire's bite. "I don't think Janeway would approve," he commented dryly. "Of course not. That's why I did." They shared a grin. While they both admired and respected their captain most of the time, they had managed to get in her bad graces on several occasions. Nick went with Tom to the Mess Hall. While he was not at all hungry, he would see that Neelix found something appropriate for Tom. He would need lots of sugar, salt, and water until he got his strength back. An old-fashioned bowl of French Onion soup might be just the thing, and maybe a chunk of chocolate cake... if Naomi hadn't eaten it all. The afternoon passed too slowly. Nick was caught between his concern for Tom and for B'Elanna. Alternately he would see the slim Mufak slave and his pregnant Klingon wife. The slave was everything that B'Elanna was not. She was delicate, gentle, and submissive, yet she exuded a quiet confidence, a pride that being a slave all her life had not been able to erase. B'Elanna, however, despite her rough, Klingon ways, was insecure, afraid of failing, afraid of her own shortcomings. No wonder Tom had been attracted to her. She would not remind him of the love he'd left behind. Nick found himself oddly attracted to the Mufak woman. Her name sounded like a song in his memory. K'shia. Nick shook himself. It was not K'shia who stirred his need. The desire he felt now was not his own. It was Tom's memories that lingered still. Nick put them away. He wished he could have met K'shia, but he had avoided Yellow Rock, even after Tom had been found, because of the glaring hot desert sun that baked the planet for much of their thirty-six hour days. Tom had been involved in a slave uprising during his four-month absence. He had trained the Mufak men to pilot the small ships they'd been building in giant underground hangars. For a hundred years the Mufak had been planning their revolt, stealing technology and duplicating it without the slightest understanding of the science behind it. The Mufak were such an interesting species. Nick pushed Tom's memories aside. His shift was finally over; he could find his bride and take her to dinner. B'Elanna was radiant. Nick knew it was too soon in the pregnancy for anyone to notice, but he wondered why everyone couldn't see her joy. He hugged her tightly, swinging her around in his arms. "Hey, loosen up, love," B'Elanna chided gently. "I can't breathe!" Nick kissed her neck, her eyes, her hands, then dropped to his knees and kissed her abdomen. "I can't either," he whispered. "Nick, I'm scared," she admitted. Nick sat in the rocking chair and pulled her onto his lap. "Me too." "I'm not sure I'm ready. What if I'm a bad mother? What if our children hate me?" Nick kissed her again, then held her in his protective embrace. "Let's just take it one step at a time. We'll love them. We will probably make mistakes, but as long as they know how much we love them, then I think they'll forgive us." "Have you told your father yet?" she asked. Nick shook his head. LaCroix would not be happy. Nick knew that much. LaCroix hated children, and he had always hated it in the past when Nick tried to live like a mortal. But, LaCroix had been strangely silent lately. Nick didn't know where he was or what he was doing. The psychic link between them was quiet. "Please, don't wait too long? Tell him before I get the size of a shuttle craft?" He chuckled. "I will. Now, you need to eat well. Let's go get some dinner. Part 9 Children of the Night By Lorelei Sieja Chapter Five: The buoys lead them to a system of seven planets orbiting a single star. Two of the planets could sustain life. They both held a variety of plants, but few animals and no sign of intelligent life. The scans weren't sensitive enough to locate a handful of crash survivors. Then, Tuvok found the ship. A small cargo transport of unknown design had crashed on the fourth planet. Their initial scans were inconclusive. Janeway assigned Chakotay and Tuvok to head up two teams to investigate. "Captain," Nick said. "Tom should go on this mission as well." Janeway shook her head. "I disagree. His experience on Yellow Rock was terrible. I don't want to make him face that again." "But Captain, he wants to. He needs to. And besides, he is the only one on this ship who speaks Mufak." Janeway looked surprised. She hadn't thought of that. She'd been counting on Kazon to get them through this, yet the dialect used by the beacons had been very poor. It was unlikely that it was the native language of whatever species they were going to meet. She stared at Nick hard. "Do you honestly feel that his presence will not jeopardize this mission?" Nick nodded. He hoped he wasn't lying. She tapped her commbadge and addressed Chakotay. "Commander. Assign Mr. Paris to your team as communications specialist." "Aye, Captain." Nick went to the console Captain Janeway had made available to him. He would monitor this away mission closely, worrying that his reputation and Tom's life might be at stake. Chakotay drew a deep breath of air as his molecules reformed on the alien planet. The oxygen was close in chemical composition to the artificial, filtered product of the ship, but there was something so elemental about real air. Real land. Real water. He felt alive. Turning, he glanced at the other members of his team. Tuvok broke off, tricorder extended, already identifying the direction of the ship. They had beamed down a half-kilometer away, to come up on it cautiously. He had two security guards with him, both heavily armed. Chakotay usually felt that Tuvok was overzealous, but he couldn't shake the niggling premonition that this time, at least, Tuvok was right. Tom was unusually silent. Chakotay hadn't wanted him along, but he hadn't chosen to argue the point with Kathryn. Tom seemed distant and preoccupied. Chakotay would have to keep an eye on him. Kim was eager. His part of the mission was brief. He was to find anything on the ship that resembled the log and bring it back to Voyager for downloading and deciphering. Chakotay motioned the others to follow Tuvok, bringing up the rear himself. He walked cautiously, silently, in the way of his people. His hunting skills were weakened from disuse, but the hairs of his neck pricked in warning. He pocketed the tricorder and drew his phaser. They came upon the ship, but passed no aliens or signs of aliens. They saw no footprints, no evidence that there had been any survivors at all. Until they entered the ship. What remained would never fly again. Although the structural integrity had been compromised in the crash, that was secondary to the cannibalizing of its interior parts. Of that, little remained. Chairs and beds had been ripped out, along with the power source and any thing else that might have been useful. "This looks like it could be the ship's log," Kim announced. He couldn't loosen the metal clamps that held it secure. Chakotay fired on the base with his phaser, cutting the alien piece of technology free. Kim stared at him agape. Chakotay shrugged. "I, uh, I'll take this back up then," Kim said. No one answered. Kim tapped his comm and within moments he felt the familiar tingle as he returned to the relative safety of the ship. Tom looked around. Nothing about the ship seemed familiar. It was nothing like the little stealth bombers he'd flown with the Mufak in the revolution. Neither did it resemble the massive, graceless ships of the Thurians. He felt a tenseness leave his shoulders and he breathed deeply. "There are dents and scores on the hull. This ship was most likely damaged by a meteor storm," Tuvok announced. "It would seem that ultimately caused its failure." Chakotay nodded. "And these survivors somehow knew we would be in this area and that we would find their beacons and rescue them? Then why aren't they here to greet us?" "Shelter," Tom answered. All turned to him curiously. Tom cocked a half-grin. "First rule of survival. Find shelter, water, then food. The water stains on the deck suggest that this ship leaks like a sieve in a storm." "Good thinking, Tom," Chakotay said. "Tuvok, continue your study of the ship. See if you can find out where they came from and how they got this far. Tom, let's see if we can find where they went." Tom set his tricorder and scanned for water. "There's a pond this way, about a kilometer from here." Chakotay shook his head. "If they're still alive, they won't camp by water." "Why not?" "Because water also attracts wildlife. One should seek shelter at a safe distance from the water, carrying some back as needed." He set off then, leading a few degrees to the east from the body of water. Before long he uncovered a trail worn enough that even Tom could follow it. It led towards a rocky hillside. Tom seemed tense as they drew near. "The Mufak were cave-dwellers," he said. "So it would appear these people are as well." The cave was easy to find. The entrance was wide, cleared of any brush, and footprints criss-crossed the dry dirt. Chakotay informed the captain first, then they went inside. There they found the parts of the ship. Chairs arranged haphazardly, boxes of supplies, discarded containers, beds, blankets, clothing, all strewn about with no sign of order. There was an odor in the air of spoiled food and something else. "Sloppy people," Tom said. "It's for sure they weren't ever boy scouts." Chakotay wasn't sure he followed, but then with Tom, no one often did. "Scouts' motto, "be prepared"," Tom explained. "This camp looks pathetic, desperate. There is little here of any use. Looks like the food's all gone." "Could be the survivors lacked the skills to make it on this uninhabited planet," Chakotay agreed. "Here, look that these containers. Is the writing Mufak?" Tom glanced at the dark, bold printing on the empty crates. "Sorry, Chakotay. I only speak it. I can't read it." Chakotay grunted. This communications specialist wasn't much help. "Well, I didn't learn to read it either," Chakotay commented. "But I did see it some. This doesn't really look familiar. I'll have something transported up and run it through the archives. Maybe we can figure out who these people are." He tapped his commbadge, but nothing happened. Tom tried his then, too. "Must be something in these rocks blocking the signal," Tom said. "I'll go out." The entrance to the cave was blocked. A large humanoid, partly Kazon in his appearance and wearing tattered clothing eyed them. Behind him Chakotay saw others. He sensed his tactical disadvantage. They were cornered in a cave, in unknown territory, with no known means of escape. If the commbadge wouldn't function, then neither would the transporter. Although he hated diplomats, now was the time for a little diplomacy. He wished Nick had come on this mission with him. "Greetings," he said, forcing a friendliness he didn't feel. "I am Commander Chakotay of the Federation Starship Voyager." The stranger snorted and spat at his feet. "Damn late you be. A year should been here ago." Chakotay looked at Tom questioningly. The younger officer shrugged; it hadn't made any sense to him either. "Who are you?" Chakotay asked. The leader worked his jaw and hurled a wad of spit at Chakotay's feet. "I asks, you answers!" Tom reached for his phaser, but before he could draw, they were surrounded. A dozen men, all dressed in rags, pointed alien weapons at them. Tom carefully removed his phaser and dropped it to the ground. "Just wait a minute," Chakotay said smoothly. "I'm sure we can talk this out. Tell us what it is you want. Maybe we can help you." The leader spit again. "I gots what I wants. I gots you. Put be down all weapons and things too." Chakotay jiggled the universal translator. Perhaps the same rock mineral that prevented the communicator from reaching Voyager was also interfering with the translator. Tom's fists clenched and he started towards the leader, but Chakotay caught his sleeve and stopped him. "You do not need hostages, mister," he said. "I be Kizbutt," he grunted. "We understand that you are marooned here. We came voluntarily, following your beacons only to lend assistance." Kizbutt stared at him like he'd just turned green. Then he shrugged. "Coulda be. Or not be. I no taking chances. Whole futsi been cursed. Cursed it be." Chakotay brushed the comm badge again. Futsi? "How did you get here," he asked, stalling. "Damn female. Hired we to bring her. Money be gone." He glared at Tom then, eyeing him strangely. Kizbutt changed languages, leaving the Kazon dialect, which he spoke very badly and singing instead. Chakotay recognized it as Mufak, although he didn't understand it. The pitch-specific, musical Mufak language had proved too much for the universal translators to deal with. Whatever Kizbutt said to Tom seemed intended to rile him. Chakotay saw the anger flare, the clenched fists. "Don't listen to him, Tom," he warned. He was too late. Tom flung himself at Kizbutt's neck murderously. He shouted at him also in Mufak. One stranger swung the butt end of his weapon at Tom's ribs, knocking the air out of him. Another weapon struck him on the forehead. Tom crumpled to the ground. Chakotay lunged for him, but the ragtag mercenaries restrained him. Two others hauled Tom to his feet and held him. Kizbutt drove his fist into Tom's stomach again and again. Tom's knees buckled, the strength went out of his legs. Even as blood formed at the corner of his mouth and dripped down his shirt, he still hurled what could have only been curses at the Kizbutt. "Stop it," Chakotay shouted, struggling against the arms that held him. "We're no good to you dead. Leave him alone!" One alien struck Tom hard again on the bleeding lump on his forehead. Tom passed out. Hauling him by the arms, they lead the way deep into the cave. They forced Chakotay to follow. The cave widened, then narrowed again, twisting oddly. At the back was a prison formed of welded parts from the ship. Kizbutt snatched the commbadges from Tom and Chakotay's jackets. He shoved Chakotay inside. Tom's limp body followed. Then a solid metal door clanked shut. A chain wound through the bars and was fastened with a lock. Then he heard the aliens retreat, but he could see nothing in the blackness of the cave. How had this all turned out so wrong? Chakotay sank to his knees and reached for Tom. He found a pulse. It was strong and regular. He nudged him, trying to wake him. "I'll get you out of this, Tom," he promised. "Some how." Part 10 Children of the Night By Lorelei Sieja Captain Janeway tried to reach Chakotay again, but he wasn't responding to her hail. Kim's scans revealed that the planet's rocks were comprised of alien metals with magnetic properties. If they were behind or inside the rocks, they would not be reachable. Janeway didn't like it a bit. She ordered extra guards to the surface to assist Tuvok in finding Chakotay and Tom. Then she received a hail, noisy with static. "Can you clear that up," she snapped at Kim. The young officer blushed in embarrassment. "Aye, Captain." He hurried to comply. The static cleared somewhat and the viewscreen was dominated by the grizzled countenance of an alien of mixed Kazon descent. "We be two your crew hostage," he announced smugly. "Return them at once," she commanded, her tone low and chilling. The alien was taken back, but quickly recovered. "Return them, maybe perhaps, when ship be good. Fuel, supplies, food, water." "I will do nothing until my men are freed," she said firmly. "I will not deal with terrorists. Janeway out!" She signaled Kim, who closed the transmission. Then she contacted Tuvok and ordered the away team to return to the ship at once. Janeway rubbed at her forehead. "What is wrong with the translators, Ensign Kim! And who the hell are these people!" "Working on it, Captain," Kim responded nervously, his hands fairly flying across his console. "They are the Itka," Seven said calmly as she stepped of the turbolift onto the bridge. Janeway whirled around and nailed her with a glare. "Explain!" Seven was not intimidated. She continued calmly. "The Kazon-Itka, Captain. The Borg came across them a few times, although you did not meet them. They are the vilest of the sects and not deemed worthy of assimilation." Janeway sighed in frustration. All intelligent civilizations were at risk of annihilation by the Borg, while these vermin escaped unharmed? Sometimes she hated the delta quadrant. "Can you adjust the translators for their dialect, then? I can barely understand them." "No, Captain. The translators are functioning within normal parameters. Even the Kazon refuse to deal with the Itka. They are scorned among their own kind, like a disease that lives on fringe of society." "Great. Just great. Kim, you and Seven work on those logs. I want them deciphered and on my desk in one hour." Chakotay strained to see in the dark. The blackness was complete. There was no shadow, no shades of gray, only black. He felt around in the dark to learn of his prison. It was small and rectangular, with two walls of metal pieces welded together and two walls of rough-hewn rock. There were no beds, blankets, or other items. Nothing. He reached out to touch Tom again. He didn't like way Tom's breathing sounded, rapid and shallow. He needed a light. "Hey!" he called. "I need a light! A dead hostage is of no use to anyone!" No one answered. There was a scraping sound in the shadows outside his prison. Chakotay listened. It was too heavy to be rodents and there were two sets of them. "Who are you," he demanded. The sounds stopped. He heard a scuffle, as though they withdrew. They were too small to be the alien men who'd imprisoned them. He lowered his voice and beckoned to them. "Help me," he called softly. The scuffling sounds resumed, drawing closer and bringing a small light. Chakotay saw tiny feet. When they were almost near enough to touch, they stopped. Two little children grinned at him, a boy and a girl. They were nut brown with black, black hair, dimpled, and with the bluest of eyes. They were only half the size of Naomi Wildman and they were filthy. Chakotay took in the dirty, tattered clothes, the bare legs and feet, the thin arms. These children looked hungry, and yet they laughed together. They looked nothing like the mercenaries who had imprisoned them. They sang something, then laid the light on the ground. Timidly, cautiously, they poked at the light, pushing it nearer to Chakotay, but remaining just out of reach. It alarmed him how suspicious these little ones had become. Had the mercenaries hurt them? "Thank you," Chakotay said. They giggled, then scampered away. Chakotay missed their company already. Taking the light, he examined Tom. His lip was crusted with dried blood, but no longer bleeding. One eye was bruised, more bruises colored his ribs. Then he lifted each eyelid and checked his pupils. They were dilated and did not react to the light as quickly as they should have. "Come, Tom, wake up," Chakotay commanded. "You need to sit up and stay awake. You probably have a concussion." Tom groaned. Chakotay pulled him to a sitting position and helped him to lean against the cave. "Mind telling my why you attacked them? Did you honestly think that the two of us could have overpowered twelve of them?" Tom shrugged. "I didn't like what he said," he grumbled. "Must have been something awful. What was it?" Tom didn't answer. He put a hand to his forehead gingerly and groaned again. "I can't... think," he said, slurring his words. "Stay awake, buddy. You have to help me think of a way out of this mess." "K'shia is here." "Keshia?" Chakotay repeated the alien word. The way Tom pronounced it, Chakotay knew it was Mufak. "Who or what is that?" He nudged Tom awake again. "Stay with me," he urged. "She came back. She's here." Chakotay swallowed thickly. Tom's injuries didn't look too bad, but head wounds could be serious. He felt a sense of evil all around him. They had to get out of here. "We are being hailed, Captain," Tuvok said as she entered. "I guess it's time to speak to them then," she said. "On screen." This time the wild-eyed leader who identified himself as Kizbutt held a small child in his grip, a large knife pressed to the little girl's throat. Beside him another man held a boy as well. She gasped involuntarily. There was something familiar about the children. They were very small, perhaps no more than three years old. She breathed easier, as it had been four and a half years ago that Tom had been held captive on Yellow Rock. They were slim and brown like the Mufak, but their eyes were bright blue, a stunning contrast. The boy struggled in his captor's grasp, the knife scraped his flesh and a trickle of blood oozed forth. The girl was terrified. Large tears spilled down her cheeks. Janeway swallowed. Kizbutt grinned evilly. "Greetings, Captain Janeway," he began. "This be the cargo. These children be to their father now. On Voyager be he. But we do kill them - fix our ship!" "Done," she said. "Captain," Tuvok interrupted. She silenced him with a gesture. "Put down the knife," she said. "We will repair your ship and give you the supplies you requested. Do not harm the children." "Glad I be we speak now the language same," he crooned. With a broad, greasy grin, he ended the transmission. "Captain," Tuvok insisted. "Shouldn't we ascertain the veracity of his claims before reaching such an agreement?" "No. I won't put any child in danger, no matter whom they belong to. Tuvok, put a security detail around their ship. I want my crew protected while they begin work on it. Kim, you and B'Elanna are to stall on the repairs. Look like you're working on it, just, don't accomplish miracles. I need time to figure out how to rescue Chakotay and Tom and now, the two children as well." Chakotay had tried to keep Tom awake by engaging in conversation, but Tom answered all of his questions with only a word or a grunt. He winced with each breath and his eyes still looked distant and unfocused. The evil Chakotay had sensed before surrounded him. Chakotay didn't understand it, only acknowledge it. The evil wasn't the Kazon mercenaries, although they were affected by it. And the evil wasn't in Tom. Chakotay folded his legs and rested his palms on his knees. Perhaps he could reach out and touch the evil, face it, to learn to subdue it. The evil was too strong. Chakotay could not reach the spirit plane. He was blocked, barred from freedom in the spiritual realm as effectively as the prison barred him from returning to Voyager. Then he heard the mercenaries approach. They were loud and smelly, announcing their presence clearly. "My friend needs a doctor," Chakotay insisted. "We you company be bring," Kizbutt answered. Chakotay turned his light to see them. The little boy and girl were struggling against the strong arms that held them. Someone opened the prison door while others leveled their weapons on Chakotay. He stepped back. One mercenary tossed the girl inside. She fell on the cave floor with a cry of pain. When the other would have tossed in the boy, he screamed instead. The boy had bit his hand hard, drawing blood. He dropped him and the boy ran into the dark. "Go get!" Kizbutt roared. Three armed men hurried to do his bidding. The prison door shut with a slam and was chained again, then the captors retreated. Chakotay knelt to come down to the girl's level. She shied away from him, but the prison was small and bare. There was no place for her to go. She spoke to him then. He recognized the brave tone of her voice, if not the words. Tom chuckled. "She's threatening you, Chakotay. She said, "you'd better stay where you are