Alternate Choices
By H.W.
Chapter 9
"B'Elanna," the Doctor sighed. He had been arguing with the Klingon for the last ten minutes and he was rapidly getting nowhere.
"Listen, Doc," B'Elanna said while she moved off the bed, being smart enough to hold on to it to steady herself. "I'm driving myself crazy in here, I'm about to go out of my mind from all that lying around. As you could see, I can sit, and as you can see now, I can stand. So why don't you let me go out there and be amongst people?"
"Because you’re still weak," the Doctor stated... again. "Yes, you have enough energy to stand, but if I let you run around already, you'll use up all your energy and it will take much longer for you to heal."
B'Elanna rolled her eyes. "I'm not about to start running a marathon. All I will do is go out there and be amongst my friends."
"I know you, B'Elanna. You would only get into trouble again."
"Doc, we’re in a prison. I couldn't get into trouble if I wanted to. Look, I promise all I’ll do is sit around some."
"Alright, let's compromise," the Doctor relented. "You wait here one second, I will be right back." He was out of the room before B'Elanna had a chance to react.
"You got to be kidding me," B'Elanna said when the Doctor reappeared a minute later pushing a hover chair.
"You want out of here, fine you can, but only if you stay in this chair. You said that you would only sit anyway. That is my condition B'Elanna, take it or leave it."
B'Elanna threw up her hands. "Alright, if that’s the only way, fine."
"Oh, no," the Doctor said, knowing that B'Elanna was giving in too fast. "I know you, you’ll get out of here and jump out of this thing as soon as you leave sickbay. So to make sure that you stay in it, I will personally drag you back here and put you in bed if I see you out of it only once."
"Yeah, yeah." B'Elanna moved the few steps to the chair. She had to admit that walking was harder than she had expected, but not as impossible as the Doctor was pretending it was.
"Don't think I won't do it," the Doctor threatened.
B'Elanna got into the chair and rolled her eyes again. "Gee, Doc. Am I at least allowed to get out of this thing to relieve myself, or should I just pee while sitting in it?"
"I could always give you a catheter if you think that using the bathroom would be a problem," the Doctor replied smugly.
"Not a chance," B'Elanna said while she looked over the hover chair controls.
"Right, the way this works is,"
"Doc, I am the chief engineer of a spaceship," B'Elanna interrupted. "I think I can figure out how a damn hover chair works, don't you think?"
"Fine, get out of here and break your neck for all I care," the Doctor said, giving up.
"Fine."
B'Elanna was halfway through the door when the Doctor spoke up again. "Be careful."
"Thanks, Doc. I will," B'Elanna replied softly, looking over her shoulder at him for a moment before continuing on.
She knew that the Doctor could really be annoying, and his bedside manners left much to be desired, and he could be way too overbearing with his patience, and he... But underneath it all, there was a good man who truly cared for the well-being of the Voyager crew.
~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~
B'Elanna took a moment to look around after leaving sickbay. Seeing a broad corridor going in two directions was definitely not what she expected from a prison. She thought that it looked more like the dorm she had stayed in during her time at the Academy. A little further down one side of the corridor she saw two force fields, one behind the other, and figured that this was the way out.
'Ok, so that's something I don't know from the Academy. That does indeed remind me of a prison.' To the other side, she saw several corridors branching off and some, what looked like gathering places. She headed to the first of the gathering places and, to her luck, she found Tom, Chakotay, and a man that didn't belong to the Voyager crew talking at a table. The three men were so deep in discussion that they didn't notice B'Elanna until she spoke up.
"Hi, you guys are just the people I'm looking for."
As soon as the slave saw B'Elanna, he jumped up to stand at attention, only to realize a moment later that he wasn't in the presence of the Intendant. "My god, it is true. I see it, but I can't believe it."
"Ah, yes," B'Elanna said. "I'm not the bad bitch. That's the one who was here earlier. So just relax will ya?"
"Hey, what are you doing out of bed?" Tom asked. "When I was there earlier the Doctor told me it could be several days before you could leave sickbay."
"Yeah well, let's just say that the Intendant's visit gave me a good incentive to heal quicker and the Doctor was his own overcautious self. Now," B'Elanna started, changing subject since she hated talking about her health, "since you three are sitting here talking anyway, why don't we move this party? You can show me where my room is and then we can talk there. I want to know everything that’s going on."
B'Elanna pointed at the slave. "And you can tell me all there is to know about the difference between a slave, a Master Slave, and a Body Slave."
"Um, maybe this can wait till tomorrow," Tom suggested in an almost diplomatic tone, "give you some time to rest a little before having lengthy discussions."
"Listen, Tom, I had all the rest I can take. I know that everyone is trying to keep information from me for some bizarre reason, I just don't know why. Are you afraid of me finding out that I'm only alive because Seven gave the Intendant a good lay? Then I can assure you that I know more about the subject than the lot of you, since Seven and I actually talked about that. Enough fooling around. I want answers and I want them now. So you better start talking or I swear I will kill somebody and then... What?" B'Elanna asked when she saw the three men cringe at the same time.
"Maybe we do need to fill you in on some things," Chakotay said, the image of someone that looked just like B'Elanna, killing a Human in cold blood, was still dancing in front of his eyes. "Come on guys."
All of them followed Chakotay as he moved into the corridor and in the direction of the force fields.
"This... cellblock is big enough for us all, if we put two people in a room," Chakotay started to explain; he knew that the Klingon would have a fit when she found out with who she had to share a room.
"So?" B'Elanna asked.
"Well, we suspect that they also put people other than slaves and prisoners in here from time to time. Judging from the interior, and judging from the fact that the rooms in the beginning of the cellblock are the biggest. So with that in mind the senior staff got those rooms, still sharing a room of course."
"Why do I get the feeling that I'm not going to like what you’re leading up to?" B'Elanna asked before realization set in. Seven was not there, so that meant that there was only one woman left in the senior staff. "Oh, you got to be kidding me, please don't tell me that I'm sharing a room with the captain."
"Sorry, B'Elanna," Chakotay said sincerely. He knew that the engineer liked the captain, but not enough to look forward to sharing a room with her. "She did have a valid point when I suggested that she take a room for herself. She said that if she did that, then you, being the only woman left on the senior staff, would also need a single room,"
"Oh, I'm more than willing to share with somebody of the lower ranks," B'Elanna interrupted. She saw Ensign Jenkins coming out of one of the rooms and pointed at the blonde. "Her, for instance."
"Which would leave her present roommate, with the rank of crewman, to share the room with the captain," Chakotay countered nicely.
"What about Tom here?" B'Elanna asked, getting more desperate. "We used to date and I'm sure he wouldn't have a problem sharing a room with me."
"Oh, so now I'm suddenly good enough again?" Tom asked with a smile, taking the sting out of the words.
"Tom, for this you would even be allowed to sleep in the same bed as me," B'Elanna shot back. Despite it all she was glad that she could once again have these little word duels with him.
"Um, Chakotay, you know... maybe it isn't such a bad idea if B'Elanna and I shared a room," Tom was quick to say, drawing a snort from the engineer and a chuckle from Chakotay.
"Nice try, Tom," Chakotay said while he stopped to let B'Elanna into the room first.
"And nice try, B'Elanna. Just live with it, okay?" he asked, not wanting to spend too much time on the subject. They had other things to talk about.
B'Elanna took a look around the room, seeing that it was indeed not too bad. The room was about five by five meters with a bed on the left and right side of the door. On each side behind the bed stood a little desk with a chair and behind that was a small closet.
On the far wall were two doors and in the middle between the two doors was a replicator. The two doors were milky white, translucent enough to see if somebody was on the other side of the door, but not translucent enough to see more than an outline from that person. A quick inspection of the two doors confirmed her suspicion that there was a sonic-shower behind one door and a toilet behind the other.
The door to the corridor was also made of the translucent milky white material. When closed it would give privacy, but a guard on the outside would still see if somebody was standing close to the door. B'Elanna had certainly slept in a lot worse places.
"Where is the captain anyway?" B'Elanna asked.
Tom answered that one. "During the day, she’s usually in the main gathering room. I have a feeling that she doesn't want to be too close to those Klingons out there the entire day."
"Why? They’re far enough away." B'Elanna had guessed the distance to the guards on the other side of the force fields to be around fifteen meters.
Tom was about to sit down on the bed that wasn't made, knowing that the Captain must have made the other bed which had the telltale painfully straight Starfleet fold. But then he remembered that the bed he was about to sit on had to be made so B'Elanna could sleep. Tom had clearly seen that the engineer still needed rest, despite the way she was acting. Knowing that B'Elanna would rather suffer a heart attack while making the bed herself than ask for help, he took the pile of sheets and blankets and started making the bed for her.
"Hey, I'd think you would be glad with her only being here at night. You know, don't look a gift horse in the mouth and such."
"You know, Tom, I have absolutely no idea what that’s supposed to mean. Are you trying to insult the captain?" B'Elanna really didn't have an idea what the saying meant, but the general meaning of it sure wasn't that hard to understand. But sometimes the pilot was just so easy to tease.
Hearing the remark, Tom stopped what he was doing and quickly turned around. "What? No! No, I... Alright, to use words you can actually understand with that one track mind of yours, if somebody gives you a spaceship for free, you don't go complaining about the flaking paint job. You just say 'thank you'."
"Alright, thank you." Though it seemed part of the conversation, her eyes had drifted to the almost finished bed, indicating why she was really saying the words.
Tom's only reply was to smile at her for a second and turn around to finish what he had started.
"Right," B'Elanna said pointing at the slave. "Before we go on, what's your name anyway?"
"Patrick."
"Patrick... what?" B'Elanna asked. "What's your last name?"
"Just Patrick, slaves don't have last names."
"Surely you must have had a family name at some point?" B'Elanna persisted, wondering if in this universe the family name had some special importance. Like it being the only thing that a slave could say was truly theirs.
"What's the use of a family name, if you don't have any family?" the slave asked softly.
None of them had expected that answer.
Seeing how the others looked at him, Patrick started to explain, "I'm sorry, my name is Patrick Stewards. But normally our last names are never mentioned out loud. If you’re overheard referring to your last name, you can be severely punished for it. Only free people and Master Slaves are allowed to also use their last name. Which shows that slaves not being allowed to have one, is really nothing more than a reminder to the slaves. After all, you aren’t supposed to know your last name, but as soon as you become Master Slave you suddenly have to know it."
"What's so bad about having a last name?" Chakotay asked surprised.
Patrick shrugged. "That's Humans own fault. You told me that you’ve heard of our history. So you know that Humans used to rule everything that is now ruled by the Coalition. We had slaves back then. Klingons, Cardassians, and Romulans were the most favored to do the hard labor. Bajorans were mostly used as servants; the Betazoids as sex slaves, since they could feel what their master wanted. The Trill as sex slaves if they were not joined, and if they were, then they usually served as archivists. The Humans found it convenient that they only had to train the joined Trill once at a job and they could perform that job for generations, until the symbiont died."
"And the point is?" B'Elanna asked.
"The point is that after the Coalition defeated the Sol Empire, they punished the Humans and the species loyal to the Humans by turning them all into slaves and using the same system as we Humans used to do. For some reason the Human species had, at some point, decided that slaves shouldn't have a last name because that would make them too much of an individual; slaves should be nothing more than numbers. Well, 'thanks' to our ancestors we are now nothing more than numbers. The only exception being the Master Slaves. Once somebody becomes a Master Slave, they’re allowed the official use of their last name. This is officially done to indicate that they’re more than just slaves, though we think that this is only to remind the rest of us that we are nothing and have nothing, not even a last name."
"Are they also using the same system of using a certain species slave for a certain type of job?" Chakotay asked.
"Some, but not as much. Some species have certain traits that make them very suited for certain jobs. Take the poor Gorn. Those poor bastards. Because they’re so strong and don't get hurt easy, they’re the ones that get shipped to work on planets where we would die simply if we step outside. It's ironic. Droids were invented to do the dangerous mining work. But because slaves are cheaper, the Gorn are shipped in first to make sure that everything is safe for the droids to 'survive' there. Slaves die while building the shelter workshops where droids will be repaired so that they don't break down beyond use."
He shook his head a little. "Anyway, but other than those places where the situation almost demands a certain slave species, they don't really care. A slave is a slave. Mainly they just assign available slaves to whatever place needs them. They don't care that we Humans die quicker in mines than, say, the Vulcans. If we die, we’re just replaced."
"And the having no families part?" Chakotay prompted.
"Because of breeding," Patrick explained. "They use the planets the slave species come from, like our Sol, as breeding grounds to make sure a steady supply of slaves continues to be born. They leave several hundred million on the planets and make it clear to them that they will let them live as long as they produce at least one child every two years. And as soon as that child reaches the age of twelve, it’s taken away from its parents, never to see them again. Except of course a few stay to replace the slaves that have died on the planet. As you can probably guess, since parents know up front that their children won't be with them a day beyond twelve, no real family ties are formed. Why get attached to children only to then see them go off into slavery."
"It's still twelve years they could have," Chakotay pointed out.
Patrick shook his head. "Yes, but no. Yes, they could have twelve years with a child, if it were the only child. Remember, the breeders are only left alone if they produce at least one child every two years. Some even produce one child every year because for extra children you get... bonuses, I guess you could call them. Better food, a nicer place to live. Stuff like that. So every couple of breeders always has six to twelve children running around. And that means that once every year, once every two years, you see a child leave. Do you think you could see that? Every year, if you loved the child?"
He waited for a moment to let that sink in. "No, the children become products. Parents feed you, the good thing is they never hit you because they want a flawless skin in the product. The bad thing is that they don't really care for you. At best they care for you like free people might care for a pet. They like you, but when you’re gone they’re only sad for a few days. As a child you get the good times you think back to later from friends. Because that can stick. If you become friends with someone your own age you can have a close tie for years before the day comes."
"And the breeders, as you call them," Chakotay asked. "Those are..."
"Those are the stable ones, there they find the relationships they need," Patrick finished for him. "Breeders stay together, so it's not like a woman getting pregnant to just anyone. A man and a woman stay together because the Masters often want to know the... bloodline... of a slave. So the breeders can actually live their whole life as a couple."
"And when they become too old to have children?" Tom asked.
Patrick gave a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Well, that all depends on how good a breeders they were, doesn't it? If they only produced the minimum, and the bloodline is not that impressive, they’re killed. But if they’ve been good little breeders their entire life, well then the Masters normally reward them by letting them live and feeding them. Giving them some other job that needs doing, like keeping track of the bloodlines of young breeders. That way they get a work force they need, and on top of that it's a good incentive for other breeders to produce more children."
"You," B'Elanna started hesitantly, "You said that a man and a woman often stay together for life."
"Normally they do," Patrick agreed. "Once they’ve found someone they like enough not to mind sleeping with them that often... remember not every shot results in a pregnancy... they normally don't give that up merely in the hope of finding something better."
"Right," B'Elanna said in understanding. "But what I want to know, what about same sex relationships?"
Patrick frowned. "They don't really care who you have in your bed at night. Two women living together is fine... as long as they produce the demanded offspring. Two men is fine to... as long as they can point at two women and the DNA coding proves that the offspring of those women was fathered by them. Producing, that's the important part, and they don't care one bit just who snuggles up to who at night."
They were all quiet for a minute after that. Tom and Chakotay already knew that Earth was now considered a breeding ground because the Intendant had clearly enjoyed telling them this. But still, to hear the details so directly, to know that now all that mattered on Earth was that children were... produced... like they were goods for sale; which sadly enough they were. It hurt.
"It must be more than millions," B'Elanna finally spoke up. "On Earth, you said that millions of people lived there only to produce children. It must be more than that. I would say a billion at least. A few million would never be able to have so many children that it sustains a market on Coalition scale. And on top of that, if it were only millions they wouldn't need to worry about finding good places to live because there would be more than enough room for them on the best places on Earth. At worst they would have to worry about having a good roof over their heads at that place."
Patrick shrugged. "I don't know how many there are; it's not like they'd tell us. We just know that there are a lot of people there so we always say millions. As for those nice places to live... You do have to remember that only a relatively small area of Earth is used for the breeding program. On the rest there are no Humans because those places are used for the mining and the hunting."
"Hunting?" Chakotay repeated.
"Wildlife," Patrick clarified. "That's why such a big area is used for it. They only open certain parts at a time, and which parts that are opened shifts every year so that animals get a chance to grow big and strong. It really started with the Masters that lived on Earth for their job in the slave industry going out and hunting. Over time their family would also go hunt when they were visiting. Then friends of family, then friends of friends. Now it's actually considered a pretty decent place to hunt and a lot of the male breeders are actually working in," he snorted at the irony, "also breeding other animals. Since the men don't get pregnant and are only needed really for five minutes every nine months at most, if you know what I mean, they are given other tasks to do as well. The good thing is that the wildlife on Earth is richer than it has been for half a millennia or so."
"And the bad thing?" B'Elanna asked.
"The bad thing?" Patrick repeated. "Oh, that's the fact that if a breeder ever decides to escape into those other parts that are not kept safe by sonic fences... well, let's just say that the Masters don't bother looking for that breeder; but they will organize a hunt to find the animal that ate the breeder. After all, having the hide of an animal that killed is a lot more fun than having the hide of a killer animal, if you get the difference. The wildlife on Earth is very dangerous right now since the hunts focus on killing dangerous animals, not the next cow. And therefore those are bred in huge numbers. Bears, predatory cats of all kinds, you name it."
Finally Tom asked, "But that's Earth, right? Well, Earth and the other slave planets." He had faltered a bit over 'slave planets'. "But the breeding stuff is different once off the planet right? It's not like they will come and divide us into good and bad breeding stock?"
"Oh, absolutely," Patrick affirmed. "Once a slave is sold into slavery, sterilization is normally the first step a Master does. Both men and women. They don't want a slave to get pregnant because she and another slave were fooling around. Or they don't want a sex slave to get pregnant because her servicing the Master resulted in a pregnancy... or even worse for the Masters, a Mistress getting pregnant because she had some fun with her male sex slave."
"If that's so, then how come Intendant Torres is around?" B'Elanna asked. "Because seeing the fact that she is me, I can assure you that at least one Human wasn't sterilized before sex."
Patrick shrugged. "As I said, it's the task of the Master to make sure the slave is sterilized. But that doesn't mean that accidents don't happen. There have been enough cases where a Master buys a slave and wants to... sample the merchandise... right after buying the slave. Figuring that the sterilizing can be done at home. And well, one shot can hit its target too, if you know what I mean. Or others actually make the choice deliberately. It's not something talked about often, but rumor has it that the Betazoid Intendant is actually also a mix. Betazoid and Human. Rumor has it that there the choice was made deliberately because the mother of the Intendant wanted certain Human traits in her daughter."
"There are ways to get rid of an accidental pregnancy," B'Elanna pointed out hesitantly.
Patrick laughed humorlessly at the question. "Ah, irony again. You see, a Master can kill a slave, no problem. A slave is only property. But it is agreed by all of the Coalition that slaves are sentient beings. You know, have to make some difference between animals."
"And that means?" B'Elanna asked, wondering why he was suddenly mentioning that.
"That means that the slaves are covered by a universal Coalition law. With birth prevention what it is nowadays, where no woman can become pregnant unless she plans it or is too stupid to keep a yearly appointment with a doctor, it was decided about thirty years ago that unborn children needed more protection. It was decided that if a child was conceived, whether by planning or by accident, then clearly the universe had plans for that child and it needed to live. So, a law was created that terminating a pregnancy is considered first degree murder, with the exception of a few very strict cases of course."
"Medical reasons," B'Elanna guessed.
"That's one of them," Patrick agreed. "But even there the case will be investigated as a murder case. Telepaths will be brought in to search the mind of mother and doctor. But the interesting thing is that even though you can simply kill a slave, as long as it belongs to you, killing a pregnant slave is murder. Not of the slave, but of an unborn sentient being, as the law dictates. So as you can see, people don't want their slaves to get pregnant, but accidents do happen."
"Why not let the slaves get pregnant?" Chakotay asked, still not getting that part. "That fits nicely with that breeding idea. Breed your own slaves."
Patrick shook his head no. "And have your slave be out of commission for weeks, maybe months? But even worse, to have a baby slave that you have to feed until its twelve years old before you can finally put the kid to work? No, you don't want pregnant slaves."
"Alright," B'Elanna finally said, breaking the silence that had fallen. "let's change subject a little. Fill me in on what happened, starting from the moment I got hurt."
And so the others did.
~~~~~~~{}~~~~~~~
It was much later when B'Elanna was lying on her bed, going over everything that the others had told her. She looked up when somebody entered the room and was discontented to see that it was Janeway. B'Elanna knew that she could look forward to at least an hour of the captain asking her stuff and also giving her view on things. "Captain."
Janeway crouched down beside B'Elanna and smiled at the Klingon. "B'Elanna, I'm glad to see that you’re doing well enough to leave sickbay."
"I'm just glad to be out of there, Captain," B'Elanna said, sitting up and resigning herself to her fate of having a lengthy conversation with Janeway. She remembered back to a time where she actually liked to have those conversations. How things had changed in the last couple of years.
"So, did Seven have anything interesting to tell you when she visited you this afternoon?" Janeway asked. By asking this direct question so quickly, she gave B'Elanna the nasty impression that the inquiry to her health had been nothing more than a habit of old manners instead of honest curiosity.
"We mainly just talked about how she and I are doing."
"I didn't have a chance to talk to her," Janeway pointed out. "Was she able to tell you something we can use? Something about the ship or something about the people onboard?"
"No, nothing. She’s just kept in the Intendant's chambers and only walked through some corridors to get here," B'Elanna straight out lied. She couldn't believe that Janeway didn't even have the decency to ask how Seven was doing before starting to ask other questions.
"Damn, I had hoped that," Janeway was interrupted by the words 'somebody is coming' drifting in from the corridor. She stood and moved into the corridor, followed by a much slower B'Elanna.
This time there were no guards accompanying the person, just a deactivation of the force fields, one only deactivating when the second was activated and secure, making sure that nobody could use the opportunity to try and overpower the guards.
The person had a gray jumpsuit on, just like the other slaves, except for the sleeves, which were black. But what had everybody's jaw hanging open was that they all recognized the person. The blonde hair was only a little longer than what was commonly known as a 'crew cut', and there wasn't an implant to be seen, but the woman was clearly Seven of Nine.
"I'm Annika Hansen, Master Slave. From now on, I'm your commander," the blonde said to nobody in particular, before walking into the first room she came across. Seeing that one of the beds looked like somebody had just slept on it she moved to the other bed and threw the bag she was carrying on it, making it clear that she was commandeering the bed for herself.
"Excuse me, but that's my bed."
Annika turned around and looked at the woman standing in front of her. From the whole demeanor of the woman, Annika suspected that she had been the leader of the slaves until now. "Not anymore it isn't. Standard procedure, the Master Slave always takes the first room in the cellblock. You're a slave, you should know that."
"We are prisoners, not slaves. We come from a place where slavery was abolished centuries ago. I am Captain Kathryn Janeway, commander of this crew. And that 'is' my bed."
"I don't care what you were. Now you are slaves, and seeing that I'm a Master Slave, this is 'my' bed," Annika shot back. "Are we clear on this?"
"Very," Janeway said while pointing at Tuvok, who had joined them by now. "Tuvok, please remove this trespasser from my room."
B'Elanna moved forward a little from her place behind Chakotay who had also pressed himself into the room to see what was going on. "Um, Captain, that might not be such a good idea."
B'Elanna knew that Janeway was about to make a big mistake in her efforts to continue to be the undisputed leader. So the Klingon decided to tell a little lie, figuring that it was ok since it might stop Janeway from doing something that could get them all killed.
"Seven did tell me that the Intendant had already given the order to have us all killed, but that Seven had begged and pleaded and... done other things, to convince the Intendant to retract her order and let us live for now. I don't think throwing the Master Slave, appointed by the Intendant, out of a room will make a good impression on the Intendant. You can have my bed, Captain, I will move."
Annika looked at the woman that had just spoken and straightened up. "Intendant."
"Close, but no cigar," B'Elanna said with a grin as she came further into the room and sat down on her bed. "I just look like her."
"How..."
"For now, let's just say that I'm the nice version."
"Thanks for offering your bed, B'Elanna, but it won't be necessary. We will find another place for Miss Hansen to stay." Janeway didn't like the idea, at all, of somebody just taking over from her. "I'm sure Miss Hansen doesn't want to make any problems with the people she has to work with, especially not over something as simple as a place to sleep."
Annika took a step closer to Janeway, having enough of her attitude. "Listen, woman. This conversation is over. Either you walk out of this room right now, or I do."
Seeing that the woman was about to speak, Annika added, "But when I walk out of here, it is to inform those guards out there that you are a hostile slave. Do you really want to die that badly?"
Annika waited a heartbeat before mimicking Janeway's words. "I'm sure you don't want to make any problems with the Master Slave you have to work with, especially not over something as simple as a place to sleep."
Janeway just stood there with her hands on her hips looking at Annika without saying anything. She knew that she had played too high, there was no way that she could back down now without it looking like she was retreating.
Annika tilted her head slightly and smiled sweetly, a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Well, are you going to get out of my room?"
"The only way I'm leaving this room is dead," Janeway said, sure that the blonde wouldn't actually do what she threatened to do.
Annika dipped her head slightly as if accepting Janeway's statement. "Fine, that can be arranged, excuse me."
Annika moved out of the room and, for a moment, Janeway thought that she had won. But that was only until she saw that the blonde moved in the direction of the force fields.
"Masters."
Janeway heard the blonde speaking and moved to the door to see what was going on. To her absolute disbelief and horror, the blonde had really addressed the Klingon guards. And what was worse was that they had dropped the first force field so that she could come closer to them.
"What?" one of the guards asked roughly.
Annika looked back and her eyes found those of Janeway, giving the woman one last chance.
Janeway saw the look in those blue eyes and knew that she had lost this round. Without saying a word, she walked out of the room and headed down the corridor.
Seeing the woman leave, Annika turned back to the guards. "Please forgive me for disturbing you; there always has to be one."
"Hmm," the guard agreed, also looking at the retreating form of Janeway. "That one is a trouble maker. After what I saw earlier today, I have a feeling that she is also on the Intendant's short list."
The guard looked back to the Master Slave. He was smart enough to understand that if the person in the prison that looked like the Intendant came from the other universe, then this Master Slave had to be this universe's version of the Intendant's Body Slave.
He also understood that she could only be here if she was specifically appointed by the Intendant. So he figured that it was better to be a little polite to the Master Slave. "The Intendant gave us strict orders to make sure that you were not harmed in any way by them. So if there is any problem at all, you just let me know. I'm the commander of the guards."
"Thank you, but I am sure that I can handle them. It's just that, as always, I had to prove that I can truly step up to the Masters and be the first to speak."
Annika took a step back, indicating that she was about to leave. "Once again, please forgive me for interrupting you."
"Good luck, Master Slave. With that bunch, you're going to need it."
Annika looked over her shoulder to some of the people that were watching her. "I know. Damn they look so... weak. As if they haven't seen a true day's work in their life."
She lowered her head slightly before taking another step back. "Once again, please forgive the intrusion." With that, she turned around and walked back into the room.
B'Elanna moved aside to let Annika enter and closed the door after them both before she went to sit on her bed again. She took a moment to look at the woman that looked so much like Seven, but acted totally differently.
"Gods, I hate having to do that," Annika said, dumping the contents of the bag onto the bed.
B'Elanna saw that most of the contents was made up of two other uniforms like the one Annika was already wearing. Which made sense since the replicators would only give out totally gray jumpsuits. So the Master Slave with her different uniform needed some uniforms that she could simply put through the recycle program in the replicator.
"You hate having to do what?" B'Elanna asked. "Taking over, or crawling for the guards?"
"Both," Annika replied, without stopping what she was doing. She put one of the uniforms in the replicator, recycled it, and then pushed the button that stored the pattern in the first free memory slot; making sure that a clean and whole uniform would be in the memory of the replicator.
"Why can't people just accept that I'm the one in charge? But nooooo, there always has to be one that wants to show that they are tougher than me. Can't you people understand that even if that was true, you still would have to do what I say or else we would all get killed for not accomplishing what we’re ordered to do?"
"So, do you want me to leave the room too?" B'Elanna asked.
Annika turned around and studied the Klingon for a moment. She was amazed by the resemblance. It truly was as if the Intendant was sitting in the room. Yet... some things were different. The hair for one. Annika had seen the Intendant on screen often enough when proclamations were being sent throughout Klingon space. As Master Slave she was one of the few slaves that actually got told the rules that the slaves had to live by. The Intendant had beautiful and obviously well kept hair; unlike the hair of most Klingons Annika had seen. But still, it still had the waves in it that was so normal for Klingon hair. And since the Intendant clearly took care of herself, the hair added to the beauty that Annika had privately admitted to herself that the Klingon had.
But the Klingon sitting across from her had no waves at all in her hair. It hung straight down, only curling inward at the bottom in one big curl that resulted in framing the face. It also looked good, but it somehow made this Klingon look... softer. But Annika had to admit that she liked it.
The look on the face, not of the face but on the face, was different too. The Intendant always had a look as if she was impatient; wanted things to be over already. But this woman had a curious look. There was no impatience. There was only... exploration. Suddenly Annika realized that this Klingon was studying her as much as she had been studying the Klingon.
Remembering the question, Annika said, "You, leave? That depends, are you also going to give me a hard time?"
"Nope, not planning to at least," B'Elanna assured with a small grin.
"In that case, no. I don't mind sharing my room. I just mind people not being able to follow the most basic of rules."
"Um," B'Elanna hesitated. "What the captain said is true. We’re not from around here, so we don't know the slave rules."
Annika put the two uniforms in the little closet on her side of the room before sitting down on her bed. "I told your 'captain' that it was common practice for the Master Slave to have the first room, so she knew the rule then. And the fact that this is the only room with closets in it should also have been an indication. But she still wanted to play the tough bitch."
"You outshined her though on the tough bitch department," B'Elanna said with a grin.
"Yeah, well, I’ve seen a lot worse than her."
B'Elanna pointed to a box that had also been in the bag, it was about the length and width of a Human forearm. "What's in there, if I may ask?"
Annika opened the box and very carefully took out two long, but thin blades. "I always have to take these out when I’m moved to a different project."
While speaking, Annika had opened the jumpsuit and stripped her upper body bare so that she could better reach the mechanisms strapped to her arms.
"Kahless, woman. Cover yourself!" B'Elanna said while she averted her eyes from Annika's naked upper body.
Annika took a moment to look down at her own body before placing the first of the blades into the mechanism on her left forearm. "Why? I don't think I have anything to be ashamed of. You should consider yourself lucky. People normally do pretty much anything to see me naked. A blonde slave, nice proportions; people always want to see."
B'Elanna figured that she had been courteous enough and she was certainly not going to stare at the floor all the time, so she looked back up and took in the beautiful body in front of her.
Where Seven had curves and enough muscle tone to give her a body everybody wanted to... touch, Annika was all muscle. Not the bulky muscles people often had who were in the gym training for hours every day. No, Annika had lean but well defined muscles; the kind one got from physically working hard each day. The kind of muscles not seen that often anymore on starships.
Engineers, like B'Elanna herself, really formed the only exception to that. They still had to do hard manual work on occasion, and with people who did this a lot, like B'Elanna, it still showed. Because of the lack of body-fat, Annika's breast size had to be about a size smaller than Seven's, but she still had a very ample chest.
"Wow," B'Elanna heard herself say before she realized that she had spoken.
Annika looked up from her task and straightened up a little, giving the Klingon an even better view. "You like what you see?"
"I would have to be dead not to," B'Elanna honestly admitted.
"Well, you can look, but not touch. I wear these things everywhere. While I sleep, in the shower, everywhere." Annika made a little movement with her arm and suddenly the blade that she had just fastened into the mechanism on her arm came shooting out, doubling in length when it fully extended. It extended her reach with a very sharp and deadly sixty centimeters.
"I would never..." B'Elanna said, slightly hurt by the insinuation that she would touch somebody against her will.
"Just making a point," Annika said. She had heard the tone in which the Klingon had spoken, and found that she wanted to believe the woman. She made another small, unnatural, movement with her arm and the blade disappeared into the mechanism again.
"Hollow blades, huh?" B'Elanna asked in an effort to get the conversation going again.
Annika picked up the second blade and showed it to B'Elanna. "Yes, it's a Cardassian design. There are actually four parts. It can be double the size you just saw, but I find that too long to be able to use it properly in close quarters, and having it set to only extend two levels gives it extra strength, making it strong enough to cut through everything weaker than reinforced steel. And unless I truly use it for steel, it also stays razor sharp like it is now."
"Don't you feel uncomfortable, sitting exposed like that?" B'Elanna finally asked.
"I learned long ago to not be ashamed of anything. And as I said before...," Annika waved a hand to indicate her own body, "...I don't think I have anything to be ashamed of."
She locked the second blade into place and looked at B'Elanna with a grin. "Besides, I thought you liked the view."
"So how come you have knives?" B'Elanna asked, wisely enough changing the subject, but also smart enough to indeed enjoy the view. "I’ve heard that the Intendant has said that we would all be killed if one of us was found with a weapon of any kind. And yet they let you walk in here with... that."
Annika moved her other arm slightly to check if the mechanism strapped to that arm also worked, it did. "Because as Master Slave it’s all nice and dandy that I can go crying for help to the guards. But the threat 'do that or else I'm going to tell the guards' gets old pretty quick."
Annika suddenly moved off the bed and before B'Elanna knew it she felt the cold metal of a knife at her throat. "But when I do this and then say, 'do that, or else...' Works every time."
"Hey!" B'Elanna shouted while pulling away from the blade in pure reflex.
"Sorry, just making a point," Annika said, moving back to her own bed. "And the guards are not always there to look out for me, and if they are, they might just not care if the other slaves kill me. So for the reasons I just told you, and for self-protection, slaves get a set of these when they become Master Slaves."
B'Elanna saw Annika once again make the arm movement that made the blade disappear into its holder. The Klingon suspected that the inside of the blades was filled with a mechanism that reacted to just the right movement of the arm, which would make it close to impossible for the knives to extend by accident. That’s at least how B'Elanna would have designed them. "But can't other slaves take them from you and use them to attack the guards?"
Annika looked from the blade to B'Elanna and her body moved a little as if she had just snorted, but there had been no sound. "First of all I would like to see them try, and second, you’ll see when we get out of here tomorrow that I’ll be the first in line. I will have to show these before the force fields are dropped. Since they can't be replicated by these replicators, the guards will know that nobody else has one of them."
"So did you have to use them yet?"
Annika sighed. "Yes, more than once. Normally just a deep scratch is enough to let people know that I know how to use them. Only on a few occasions it wasn't enough and more was needed."
"Hey, I thought that we would be moved today," B'Elanna suddenly remembered, making the connection with what Annika had just said about 'tomorrow'.
"That’s what they told me too, but just before I got here they told me that this was postponed and that we’re leaving tomorrow morning." Satisfied with the working of her knives, Annika took off her shoes before standing up and letting her uniform drop to the floor. She stepped out of the uniform and bent down to pick it up and put it in the replicator.
After activating the replication cycle, she looked over her shoulder to B'Elanna and started laughing when she saw how the Klingon was looking at her. "I’ve been three days without a shower, and I definitely need one."
Annika walked into the shower and once again treated B'Elanna to a very interesting view by not closing the door while she took her sonic shower. "So, are you going to tell me why you look so much like the Intendant?"
"Ub bu, um. That depends," B'Elanna replied after finding her tongue. "Are you about done playing with me?"
"What? You got a problem with me being naked? I thought from your reaction that you liked looking at a naked woman."
"A woman that has knives strapped to her arms while taking a sonic shower is never totally naked," B'Elanna shot back, not denying the statement. Especially not since she was indeed still taking in the blonde's form.
The lower part of Annika's body was just as well formed as the upper part, making the Klingon groan softly. The long legs had lean but well-defined muscles that just like with the upper body, were still of such proportions where they didn't bloat the body but only enhanced it. Since Annika's body didn't have too much fat to spare, her behind was small, but well rounded and pretty much radiated the word 'firm'. And then that incredibly sexy V shaped back...
The groan changed into a soft whimper.
Annika heard the soft groan and then whimper, and decided to have mercy on the poor woman. "Alright, as soon as I have my uniform back on, I'll be done tormenting you," she said while she shut the sonic shower off and walked to the replicator to take out the uniform she had recycled a few minutes before. She put it on and sat down on her bed before taking a long look at the Klingon, seeing that B'Elanna had her eyes closed now and was definitely breathing a little heavier. "You can open your eyes now. I'm done tormenting you."
B'Elanna opened her eyes and looked at the blonde, only to see those blue eyes looking back and a small smile on her lips. "Did you enjoy torturing me? Maybe I should find another room." She knew that it would be of no use to pretend that the blonde had not affected her.
Annika stopped smiling when she heard the Klingon's words. Despite the fact that she only knew the woman for about half an hour, she didn't want her to go. "Please stay. I'm sorry. It's just that... Never before in my life has somebody looked at me like you were doing just now, without trying to jump me the next minute. It felt good teasing you; it was more fun than I had in years. I won't do it again."
B'Elanna had heard the trace of sadness in Annika's voice, and it struck a note to realize that a little bit of teasing had been the most fun the blonde had had in years. "Yeah, well, there’s no need for that. Certain Klingons actually like being teased, and I'm one of them. I just wasn't expecting it."
"So are you telling me that you don't mind me leaving the door open when I take a shower?"
B'Elanna hesitated before finally admitting, "No, I don't. As long as you don't mind hearing a groan or two every once in a while."
"Nope, I sure won't mind hearing that." Annika grinned evilly before asking her next question. "So you also wouldn't mind me lying down on this bed and relieving some pent up energy?"
"Relieving some p..." B'Elanna repeated before she fully realized what the blonde was saying. She covered her face with her hands, not believing this was happening to her. It sounded just like one of Tom's adult holoprograms. "Kahless, woman! You want to drive me insane? Let's change the subject already, okay?"
"Okay, okay. I’ll have mercy on you, for now." Annika needed a minute to stop laughing before saying seriously, "Alright, change of subject..."
But Annika stopped talking when she realized that she felt more comfortable with the woman sitting across from her than she had ever felt with someone else before. There was just a certain... openness about the Klingon. As if, even though they just met, they had known each other for years. She realized that she trusted her, which was really strange because Annika normally didn't trust until people had earned that trust. And yet there was something. Something that had made Annika do something that she had never done before. She was indeed used to people looking at her naked body, but never before had she actually purposely showed her body to someone else.
Normally people only got to see her naked because there just was no room for privacy. Literally no room. Not all, or actually almost none, living spaces of slaves were as comfortable as the one she was in now. In the short time she now knew the Klingon, Annika had found out that she liked playing with her, but she wasn't sure just how far she could go. She didn't want to lose her chance to play and have fun even before she truly found it.
And, she realized, she definitely wanted to have fun with this stranger. Not just by showing off her body and being complimented by groans and whimpers. But also in different ways, like maybe being able to laugh about something as silly as a misspoken statement. It was extremely rare for her to find someone that she connected with this fast, and she wanted to make sure that the connection had a chance to evolve.
"But, um... Before we change the subject," Annika said hesitantly, "I have to ask; you will tell me when I go too far? Despite the fact that I enjoy teasing you, this is new for me. I don't want to go too far."
B'Elanna could clearly hear the insecurity in Annika's voice and somehow it made her want to put the blonde at ease. And if the woman liked playing with her, well... it certainly was a nice way of being played with. "Woman, I'm a Klingon. You would have to go very far before it would truly be too far for me, now that I'm prepared that is."
Annika gave her a brilliant smile. "Good, now let's change the subject."
"Good plan," B'Elanna agreed. "There are several things you’ll need to know, including the reason why without a doubt everybody will gape at you the first couple of times they see you."
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