This is a Star Trek: Voyager story centering on the characters of Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres and was composed in a round robin forum. We (the authors) would welcome any feedback, whether it be in the form of praise or criticism, as long as it's constructive. Please bear in mind that while there may be some rough transitions between some scenes, this is a round robin story and that is bound to happen. Standard Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek and its universe. We have merely borrowed their wonderful characters to send them on yet another journey. However, the story and those parts not used by Paramount are Copyright 1996 by The P/T Collective. Please do not separate the author's name or this message from this story. Feel free to pass the story on, but do not reprint this story without the authors' permission.

  Cracks in the Wall

  By The P/T Collective

  Copyright 1996

  Part 1

  Michael Jonas was dead. Phased to infinity--beyond infinity--in a swirling cloud of plasma. But what a way to go, thought Tom. "Damn," muttered Tom. The etched glass door of Sandrine's quietly squeaked open and closed. Tom knew it was Harry without even looking up. Poor Harry. This being lost in the Delta quadrant was harder on Harry than Janeway--than anybody--knew. Pining for Libby and missing his family; it must really be rotten. But not as rotten as not having anyone back home at all. Harry collapsed into the chair opposite Tom with a sigh, and the two men sat together in a comfortable silence. This time the door banged open with a little--whap!--and B'Elanna Torres marched in, surveyed the scene, and abruptly sat at the table, looking only towards the fire. The silence became rather more uncomfortable. "If that holographic pig of a gigolo comes over here to harass me," she finally snapped at Tom, "I'm going to smack you." "Now wait just a--" Yellow alert. "Janeway to all senior officers. Report to the bridge." Torres snarled at Paris as she headed to her post in Engineering. "Well," Paris said, "at least it didn't stay dull here for long." "What's bothering her?" Harry asked as he and Paris took off in the opposite direction for the bridge. "Did you say something to upset her today?" Paris looked shocked and insulted. "Not a thing! And Harry, I'm crushed at your insinuations." Harry Kim laughed and shook his head at Paris' mocking. Even though his recent "bad attitude" had turned out to be a ruse, you could never be sure when Paris was kidding and when he was quite serious. Paris wondered privately if he had, perhaps, done something to annoy Torres either in Sandrine's, or sometime that day. Why did it seem that she was angry with him one minute and sympathetic and concerned about him the next? Unlike most of the women he had known, he couldn't read her at all. "Oh, yeah, THAT was fair," B'Elanna said to herself as she stormed off to Engineering. "Go ahead. Just walk into someone else's holoprogram, uninvited, and start insulting it. Why did I even go in there in the first place?" But B'Elanna knew why. No one else did--not Janeway, not Kim, not even Chakotay. Birthdays. A stupid tradition. A stupid, annoying, HUMAN, tradition. Her gold-clad team looked up expectantly as the doors slid open and she strode in. "What's up, Lieutenant?" Hogan asked for all of them. B'Elanna softened. It wasn't their fault. "I guess they'll tell us as soon as something gets broken," she said. "Man your posts." The turbo lift doors opened with a woosh and both Tom and Harry came charging out heading for their respective stations. The ensign that was manning the con moved politely as Paris approached. The captain and Chakotay were already there, staring at the forward viewscreen. Paris first glanced at his conn board to see the status of the ship, then looked up. "What the hell?" he exclaimed. "I don't know, Mr. Paris, but I intend to find out," replied the captain. "Maintain yellow alert for now." "Aye, Captain." Voyager was heading for a structure that looked like a huge box. It seemed suspended in the blackness of space. Without looking up from his station, Tuvok said, "Now, Captain." Janeway nodded. "Full stop, Mr. Paris. That's close enough for our scanners." Hastily, Tom tapped at his board and brought the ship to a halt. Curious about the edge to the captain's voice, he looked back up at the object on the screen, studying it with interest. It was a large, metallic-looking cube, almost as black as space itself. Its dimensions were surprisingly regular, but its edges were round and its surface was pitted and scarred in many places. It looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place it. Overall, it didn't seem like anything special. Except that the captain's wearing her 'one-wrong-move-and-I-shoot' look, Tom thought to himself. He took a quick glance at the rest of the bridge crew. Except for Harry, they all looked equally tense. Even Tuvok seemed more intent than usual. Tom didn't understand it. "What's so terrible about a metal cube hanging in space? We see stranger things than that every day of the week--" "Captain," Tuvok said impassively, "I have completed comparative analysis. Despite the superficial differences in appearance, there is a 92% probability that this is a Borg vessel." Then the image clicked in Tom's memory--the tapes of the invasion had been shown on all channels--and his head jerked up as a mixture of terror and adrenaline flooded through his system. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Harry pale--apparently the kid hadn't made the connection either. The Borg. No wonder Voyager was on yellow alert; he was only surprised the captain hadn't called for red alert and battle stations. Of course, since a single Borg ship had slaughtered 39 starships at Wolf 359, and come within an ace of wiping out the whole Federation, Voyager was unlikely to win a fight with one, no matter how ready for it she was. Tom swallowed hard. Suddenly, dying of boredom didn't sound so bad. Then common sense took over. The captain would never have headed towards even a potential Borg ship--unless she had reason to think it was safe. Obviously, he and Harry had missed something. As if realizing the same thing, the captain asked: "Do scanners continue to show no lifesigns aboard, Mr. Kim?" "Uh--yes, Captain." She nodded. "No shields, no active weapons, no lifesigns. Looks like they're dead in space." She leaned back in her chair, eyes fixed on the image, and smiled tightly. "Bridge to Engineering." "Engineering here, Captain." B'Elanna answered the captain's call with not- so-suppressed impatience; she hated not knowing what was going on. "Lieutenant, we've encountered what appears to be a Borg ship." Around her, Engineering went still and quiet. All she could think, absurdly, was, We're going to die and Tom's never going to know why I snarled at him. But the captain was continuing, "...empty and derelict, but basically intact." B'Elanna's mind raced faster than warp nine. "You mean we might be able to salvage that superdrive of theirs? Get home faster?" "It's a possibility." Again Engineering went still, but for very different reasons this time. "As soon as we're satisfied that it's safe," Janeway continued, "I want you to lead an away team over there." "Aye, Captain!" "Ensign Kim, are we still reading negative lifesigns?" "Yes, Captain," replied Harry. "Everything is deader than a doornail over there." "All right. Mr. Paris, take us in closer, but be ready to go to warp at a moment's notice if Harry's 'doornail' shows signs of life." "Aye, Captain." Slowly Voyager inched closer to the Borg ship. So far so good, Janeway thought to herself. "If we could board her we might pick up some valuable knowledge." "Chakotay, I want you, Torres, and Paris with a couple of security personnel to form an away team and beam over there. At the slightest movement there come back to Voyager immediately. Understood?" "Aye, Captain," replied Chakotay, as he started toward the turbolift. Paris joined him and the doors closed with a soft 'woosh'. "Transporter room two," Chakotay commanded, and Tom felt the ever so slight drop as they descended. He knew not everyone in Starfleet could feel things like that; could be so in tune with their ship. Usually only good captains, good pilots, and good engineers. Never ones to waste words on one another, Tom took the opportunity to ponder why he should have been chosen for the away team instead of Tuvok, but didn't come up with anything. Well, hell, I'll take it. A defenseless Borg cube! B'Elanna's going to have a major subspace fit. The doors of the turbolift opened with a hiss and Tom's high spirits evaporated. The security team was already there, heavily armed with phaser rifles, and had phasers and tricorders ready for both Torres and the bridge officers. In another moment, B'Elanna charged in bearing a small emergency engineering supply kit. She looked up questioningly at both Tom and Chakotay. Her eyes are exactly the same color as Tilidian chocolate, Tom thought to himself. He made a simple mental note: Look after her. Look after them all. What else could he do over there? "It's your show, B'Elanna," said Chakotay simply. "Right. First, we'll simply scan around and get an idea of the layout of the cube, and try to figure out what happened to the crew. Then, if it's safe, we'll contact Voyager and get an engineering team over there. Are we ready? Energize." B'Elanna fought off the bout of dizziness the transporter always left her with. A quick glance showed her all were accounted for. Tuvok's security team, phasers ready, were already securing the perimeter. Chakotay was busy with a tricorder. Tom stood before her, concerned. "You okay?" Damn the man for noticing. "I'm fine. Let's get busy." "B'Elanna, I think you're going to have to rethink your plan to steal their superdrive," said Chakotay softly. "What? Why?" "Lifesigns are very limited, but they are present. These Borg are not dead." Chakotay's words caught everybody's attention. "Lifesigns?" repeated B'Elanna. Chakotay, eyes still on his tricorder, nodded. "They're coming from that direction," he said, indicating a corridor that stretched off to their right. The away team started off in that direction. As they followed the security team, a curious Paris unholstered his own tricorder and scanned the area. "I'm getting some power fluctuation readings from the same area as your lifesign readings, Commander," he said. "It almost looks like something's trying to power up but it's stuck in a feedback loop of some sort." Instead of pulling

her own tricorder out, B'Elanna leaned over to look at the readings on Paris' tricorder. She didn't seem to notice that this movement brought them rather close together. Paris, on the other hand, couldn't help but notice. Get your mind back on the mission, Thomas, he chided himself. Now's no time to be daydreaming. Frowning at the readings she saw on Paris' tricorder, Torres straightened away from him. "Apparently this ship isn't quite as dead as we thought," she commented, not sounding entirely happy at this new revelation. The corridor opened up into a large chamber. The away team stood at the edge of the chamber, staring. There were several Borg soldiers, all secured in nooks that were located on the outer perimeter of the chamber. They were unmoving, seemingly inactive. Cautiously, the away team stepped into the chamber. "They're alive," Chakotay said softly. "It looks as if they're hooked into the ship's systems, recharging." Tricorder out, Torres approached one of the "sleeping" Borg. She stood nose to nose with it, examining it closely. "I think--" she started to say before she was abruptly cut off. Paris turned to see why she had stopped speaking so suddenly and was alarmed to see that the Borg soldier's arm had shot out, its fist wrapped around B'Elanna's throat, choking her. "Commander!" Paris yelled, alerting Chakotay. Paris leapt forward, grasping the Borg's arm in an attempt to break its grip on B'Elanna. He was frightened to see that B'Elanna's face was turning an alarming shade of red. He redoubled his efforts to break the Borg's hold. Chakotay joined him as B'Elanna lapsed into unconsciousness. Still the Borg did not release her. As the situation became desperate, the Borg suddenly released B'Elanna. Her unconscious form crumpled to the deck. Paris, turning his attention to her, did not see the Borg's arm swinging in his direction. "Paris, watch out!" Chakotay warned. Paris turned back to the Borg in time to receive a solid hit across his right temple. Seeing stars, he stumbled back. His arm went up to block the Borg's next blow, but it never landed. Chakotay's phaser sang out and the Borg fell to the deck. "Commander," Paris heard one of the security team say, "the others are showing signs of waking up." His head beginning to clear, Paris glanced at Chakotay before kneeling beside B'Elanna. Chakotay tapped his comm badge. "Chakotay to Janeway." "Janeway here." "Captain, we've found some surviving Borg aboard. They seem to be in some sort of hibernation, but they're showing signs of waking up. Both Torres and Paris are injured." Wanting to take no chances with her away team until they knew what they were dealing with, Janeway said, "Commander, I want you off that ship. Now." Paris relaxed as he heard Janeway's order to get off the ship. If the Borg were waking up, he didn't want to be anywhere near them. He turned his attention to B'Elanna, checking her to make sure that the Borg hadn't been able to inflict too much damage on her. Her breathing seemed to be all right; she was no longer gasping for air. But she still hadn't regained consciousness. "Captain!" Harry's voice came over the comm badge. "The Borg ship just raised its shields. The away team is...." Harry's voice was suddenly cut off. Alarmed, Paris looked at Chakotay as the Maquis tapped his comm badge. "Chakotay to Voyager." There was no response. He tried again. "Chakotay to Voyager." Paris tapped his comm badge and tried to hail Voyager as well, but he didn't have better luck. "Looks like we're on our own," Chakotay said. "How is she?" "Mr. Kim, go to red alert as soon as the away team is back on board. Let's get out of here as fast as possible. I don't want to be anywhere close to that thing when it becomes fully operational," barked Janeway. "Aye, Captain," replied Harry. "Janeway to transporter chief," said Janeway triggering the internal ship's communication. "Beam Lt. Torres and Lt. Paris directly to Sickbay. Have Commander Chakotay report immediately to the bridge." "Chief Cooper to Janeway," came a disembodied response. "Commander Chakotay is on his way." No sooner had he said that the turbolift doors opened and Chakotay appeared. "Mr. Tuvok, weapon's status, please." "Phasers are charged, photon torpedo bays are loaded and on standby, Captain," said Tuvok in that calm unemotional voice. Janeway turned to Chakotay. "All right, Commander, let's have it. What happened?" "Captain, we have a situation," replied Chakotay. "The other members of the away team did not return with me. When we lost contact with Voyager--" "Captain, we are being scanned." "Shields up. Red alert. Chakotay--" "Captain," Kim interrupted, "we are being hailed by the Borg ship. Audio only." "Let's hear it." "Unidentified vessel," began the eeriest collective of voices Kim had hoped never to hear. "You will be assimilated. One member of your party has been allowed to return, so that assimilation may be facilitated. Resistance is futile. There will be no further communication."

  Part 2

  B'Elanna's senses reeled as a fit of coughing overtook her. "What happened?" she managed to choke out. "You got too close to a Borg and it bit you," Tom tried to joke, helping her to sit up. Anything to cover the rage that he felt, looking at the marks on B'Elanna's throat, already darkening to bruises. The Borg that had grabbed her lay crumpled at their feet. Tom scanned it. "I meant, what happened to your head." "Oh. Nothing. This guy is most sincerely dead. I think--" "Tom, hush." B'Elanna put her palms flat on the gridlike flooring. "Do you...Do you feel the same thing that I feel?" "Uh, sir. Sirs. Perhaps Hudson and I should--" Tom snorted with amusement. For a nanosecond, she had confused him, too. "Easy, Simms. The Lieutenant just means we're moving. Fast, too. Warp factor five or six, I'd say." Janeway snapped, "What do you mean, they've just gone to warp? I thought they wanted to assimilate us! I thought there were no lifesigns! I thought they had no power signature, no weapons, no shields! Tuvok, WHAT is going ON over there?!" Impassive as ever, Tuvok replied, "May I remind the captain of an old Earth saying: 'the best defense is a good offense'. The Borg ship is in a severely weakened state. Perhaps they are simply 'bluffing'." "Bluffing or not they've got four of my crew," she retorted. "Hamilton, don't let them out of our sight." Climbing to her feet, B'Elanna looked around. "Where's Chakotay?" "Back on Voyager, I would guess," replied Paris. "When they tried to beam us back, he was the only one they picked up. It might be a good idea for us to..." His voice trailed off at the sound of several feet marching in their direction. "I think we're about to have company," he said unnecessarily. With nowhere to run, the foursome turned to face whatever was coming their way. Several Borg entered the chamber, circling the away team. "You will be assimilated," the Borg told them. "Assimilate this!" Torres snarled, firing her phaser. The first Borg she hit went down immediately. The next staggered, but remained on its feet. Paris, Hudson, and Simms fired at the remaining Borg with no visible effect. They had already adapted to the phasers' frequency. In no time at all, the away team was disarmed and herded into what appeared to be a holding cell. It was basically a bare room with no furnishings of any sort. Tom and B'Elanna sat side by side on the floor. Across from them, leaning against the opposite wall, sat Hudson and Simms. B'Elanna rubbed a hand against her bruised throat where the Borg had tried to strangle her. "You okay?" asked Paris. Irritated, B'Elanna started to snap an angry reply in his direction, but when she turned her head to look at him, the sincere concern in his eyes stopped her retort. It was the same concern she had seen in his eyes when the Vidiians had captured them and split her into her Klingon and Human halves. Sighing deeply, she said, "What a way to spend my birthday." Paris' eyes widened. "Birthday? Today's your birthday?" Sorry she had even mentioned it, B'Elanna reached out to lightly touch his forehead. "You're bleeding." Out of the corner of his eye, Paris saw Hudson and Simms trade looks as they watched the exchange between himself and B'Elanna. He suddenly became aware of how close he and B'Elanna were sitting and what it must look like from the other duo's perspective. Grinning, he held a hand to his wounded forehead as he leaned in closer to B'Elanna, saying sweetly, "Want to kiss it and make it all better?" Placing a hand against his chest, she shoved him back. "You're a pig, Paris!" Sighing theatrically, Paris said, "Yeah, I've heard that before." B'Elanna shook her head, but Paris didn't miss the slight smile on her face. The atmosphere on the bridge was tense, to say the least. Janeway paced back and forth, listening to the reports coming in. Not only had they unexpectedly encountered a Borg ship, but now four of her crew were on that ship and they were unable to communicate with them or retrieve them. Despite repeated attempts to contact the Borg ship, their hails had gone unanswered. Chakotay joined her, standing reassuringly by her side. Quietly, he said, "The Borg ship hasn't moved beyond warp six. Based on what I saw, and the readings I took over there, I suspect their ship is damaged. That should give us an advantage." Janeway glared at the forward viewscreen, where the Borg ship they were chasing was being monitored. "Maybe," was her only comment. Chakotay had briefed her on what had occurred once the away team had beamed over to the Borg ship, but given who they were dealing with, she couldn't help but be uneasy. Turning to face Chakotay she said, "Call a briefing of the senior bridge officers. We'll meet in ten minutes. I'll be in my ready room." Chakotay watched her exit the bridge to her ready room before returning to his seat and alerting the others of the upcoming briefing. Torres paced the holding cell restlessly. She had examined every inch of the cell, looking for a way out to no avail. Her frustration level was growing, along with her anger. With difficulty, she reined it in. It wasn't Paris' fault, or Hudson's, or Simms' that they were in this situation. It wouldn't be fair to take it out on them. She returned to sit beside Paris, who leaned back against the wall as if he hadn't a care in the world. She envied him his composure. Paris, quaking inside at the thought of being in the hands of the Borg, tried not to let it show. He'd heard stories about Wolf 359 and what the Borg had done to Captain Picard. Watching Torres pace back and forth until she came back to resume her seat at his side, he thought back to earlier that day, before the yellow alert, when Torres had stormed into Sandrine's. Looking over at her he asked, "Is that why you were so upset earlier today when you came into Sandrine's and bit my head off? Because it's your birthday?" Torres sighed. She should have known Paris would figure it out sooner or later. He had an uncanny knack for picking up on little things like that and pulling all the pieces together to get the big picture. "Birthdays are a human tradition. A stupid human tradition," she said, repeating earlier remarks she had made to herself. "Um hmm," was Paris' only remark. "What's that supposed to mean?" B'Elanna's temper flared. Paris looked across the way to where Hudson and Simms sat taking this all in with interest. Like there's anything else to do here, thought Paris. Turning back to B'Elanna, he asked, "Why were you so upset? After all, it's just a 'stupid human tradition'." B'Elanna bit back the retort she had been about to utter. Paris was trying to goad her into revealing something she had no intention of sharing with him or anyone else. She leaned back against the wall, crossing her arms defensively, remaining silent. About to comment further, Paris suddenly cocked his head toward the entrance to their cell. "I think we're about to have visitors," he said, getting to his feet, as did the others. The forcefield at the entrance flickered off. Torres prepared herself to spring at the two Borg as they entered into the cell, but Paris placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. "Now is not the time," he tried to tell her. He saw her nod slightly to let him know she had understood his message. "You. Come with us. You will be assimilated," one of the Borg said, as he pointed a phaser-like weapon at Hudson. Hudson didn't move. Two more Borg came in. Paris moved in front of Hudson as if to protect him, but the Borg tossed him roughly to the floor as if he weighed nothing. B'Elanna started towards them but the Borg turned his phaser on her. She stopped, suddenly realizing there was absolutely nothing she could do. Watching the Borg carefully, she gave Paris a hand up, looking closely at him just to make sure all his pieces were still there. The Borg then grabbed Hudson and forcefully removed him from the cell. All three of the occupants of the cell moved towards the entrance, but the forcefield came to life once more. "What are you trying to do? Get yourself assimilated before your time?" asked B'Elanna angrily. "It seemed like a good idea at the time. I acted before I thought, hoping to somehow divert their attention towards me. After that I didn't have a plan," replied Tom. "There's got to be a way out of here," said Simms, panicky. "None that I know of," replied B'Elanna. Tom once more sat on the floor of the cell and B'Elanna resumed her pacing. Simms sat down against the opposite wall and rested his head on his knees. All was quiet in the cell once more except for the low rumble of the warp drive. All three were thinking of the fate of Hudson and none wanted to share it. Tom sat watching B'Elanna moving up and down the cell. She reminds me of a caged lion I once saw as a kid at a zoo back on Earth. She probably paces in her sleep when she has a problem to work out. Just one time I would like to get inside her head to see how it works. It would probably be very educational, Tom thought to himself. He cracked a slight smile at the thought just as Torres turned towards him. "OK, I give. What are you smiling about? I don't see anything funny about our situation just now," she asked challengingly. "You wouldn't want to know," he replied quietly, for Simms had fallen asleep. B'Elanna sat down beside Paris and looked questioningly towards him. "Maybe you should try and get some rest," he said, trying to throw her off track. "Nice try, Tom, but it won't work. What, I repeat again, were you smiling at just now?" I'll just bet one of your ancestors was in the Spanish Inquisition, he said to himself, thinking fast, trying to come up with something that would satisfy her. "I was thinking that this is one hell of a birthday present," Tom responded. "I promise that when we get out of this mess, I will throw you a birthday party at Sandrine's." "I don't want a birthday party. I've never had one in my life and I don't intend to start now," she replied testily. Shocked, Paris said the first thing that came into his mind. "You mean you never, even as a kid, had a birthday party?"

 

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