Path: newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net!stamper.news.atl.earthlink.net!elnk-atl-nf1!newsfeed.earthlink.net!c01.usenetserver.com!c03.atl99!atl-c02.usenetserver.com!news.usenetserver.com!feed3.newsreader.com!newsreader.com!yellow.newsread.com!news-toy.newsread.com!netaxs.com!newsread.com!POSTED.newshog.newsread.com!not-for-mail Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative.erotica.moderated Approved: ascem@earthlink.net Organization: Better Living Thru TrekSmut Sender: ascem@earthlink.net Message-ID: From: "Layla V." MIME-Version: 1.0 Mailing-List: list ASCEML@yahoogroups.com; contact ASCEML-owner@yahoogroups.com Subject: NEW VOY "Absolute Power" Chap 1a 2/21 (C/P, J, AU) [NC-17] Content-Type: text/plain Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit Lines: 663 Date: Tue, 10 Aug 2004 12:55:07 GMT NNTP-Posting-Host: 209.198.142.218 X-Complaints-To: Abuse Role , We Care X-Trace: newshog.newsread.com 1092142507 209.198.142.218 (Tue, 10 Aug 2004 08:55:07 EDT) NNTP-Posting-Date: Tue, 10 Aug 2004 08:55:07 EDT Xref: news.earthlink.net alt.startrek.creative.erotica.moderated:82601 X-Received-Date: Tue, 10 Aug 2004 05:55:13 PDT (newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net) TITLE: "Absolute Power" Chapter 1a (July 2004) AUTHOR: Layla V CONTACT: v_layla@hotmail.com WEBSITE: http://www.geocities.com/laylatrek ARCHIVING: Personal website, CPSG, Cha_Club, ASCEML SERIES: Star Trek Voyager RATING: NC-17 for violence, sex and language PART: 2 of 21 CODES: C/P, J/m, P/T implied, All Voyager characters, AU, Angst, H/c, OCC SUMMARY: Voyager's encounter with an intergalactic STORY NOTES: Evil!Janeway alert. See Part 1 of 21 for the details. DISCLAIMER: All characters, other than the original ones created by me, are owned by Paramount. I am merely playing. No copyright infringement is intended. NOTES: Thank you, Britta, for your clearheaded suggestions CHAPTER 1a "The Contact" The first actual contact hail came on Chakotay's console, which he shared with the captain between their command seats on the Bridge. Twenty-five tense minutes of being guided in the midst of fifteen alien ships. Fifteen *large* and *heavily armed* alien ships that had literally sprung out of nothingness and enshrouded them the moment they entered the territory of space they'd detected earlier. Even though the captain had ordered helm to match the alien vessels' speed, for reasons quite apparent, they had begun to get wary of the kind of welcome they'd receive. All their hails to the lead ships had gone unanswered and they were disconcerted to note that they no longer appeared to be in the Delta Quadrant. The rupture in subspace that had opened and deposited the alien fleet in front of them had also now shoved Voyager along with the other ships to the other side of the anomaly--a new region of space, unmapped, never seen before. The only response they were getting were what Harry interpreted as 'welcome flashes', as comprehended by the Bridge's universal translator. No words, no explanation, just a series of laser pulses magnified off the five lead ships' deflectors. That, and a long wait. And then Harry's concerned announcement that a deep scan of all their major systems was being conducted from the largest lead vessel. Defenses, weapons, propulsion, security. A quick and thorough sensor sweep to gather relevant data and information from the ship's database. Nothing too blatantly intrusive--nothing Janeway hadn't herself done to other, lesser vessels when the time asked for it--but still unbidden enough to ruffle her ultra-fine feathers. Yet who could she have blamed? It had been her decision to turn Voyager towards this new heading, to take a week-long seven light years detour, and enter the alien territory uninvited herself. She fumed and fretted on the Bridge, staring holes at her crew who had no answers for her, and gritted her teeth in irritation. So when the lights starting blinking on Chakotay's console, and he was standing at Tactical next to Tuvok, it was Janeway who first punched in her code to activate the message. Only to have the console lock up on her. Janeway stared at the console, her frown deepening as she turned around to look at her First Officer unbelievingly. Just as Tuvok's console started pulsing with a separate hail. Chakotay blinked and looked first at Tuvok, then down at the Tactical console flashing with the incoming message, and then at his clearly upset captain. Who glared back at both of them accusingly, as if it was their fault they were being hailed on their separate consoles. Before either he or Tuvok could decide whether it would be prudent for them to accept the hails, a third impropriety occurred on Voyager's Bridge. Tom Paris's helm console received a hail. "What the hell's going on?" Janeway growled, as she swiveled back to look at her Chief Pilot, who seemed frozen in his seat, unsure of how to react to the captain's ire. "Captain," Tuvok started, his tone appropriately dispassionate for the situation, "the logical course of action would be to answer these hails." Janeway turned around to face him. "I want to know how these hails are being diverted to your consoles in the first place," she demanded. "That's not possible." "They scanned Voyager." Chakotay shrugged. "And they seem technologically advanced enough." "But that doesn't explain how--" Janeway's retort was interrupted by Kim. "Captain," he said, "there is a hail being received on the console... in your Ready Room." "Revert it to the Bridge," Janeway snapped at him, exasperated. "It's not responding." Harry swallowed helplessly and then looked down at his readings. "And the alien ships are dropping out of warp." They all felt the shift in Voyager's speed as Paris followed the aliens' lead and adroitly eased the ship down to impulse. The stars, which until now had been multihued exploding streaks of light on the main viewer, coalesced into singly identifiable, solid points of brightness--as Voyager slowed in speed, coming to a stop along with the other ships. "It would appear, Captain," came Tuvok's confirmation, "that we've reached the destination that they had in mind." Janeway turned around to stare at the viewscreen. For a while, there was nothing but silence on the Bridge. And then Janeway moved. "I think I'll take that hail now," she said to no one in particular, her voice sounding awed as her eyes bored into the spectacle in front of her. And then, with a renewed purpose, she walked into the Ready Room. And that was how the Federation Starship Voyager made first contact with the Zokaa'r Sovereignty. # # They'd called him the First One. Chakotay leaned against the bulkhead next to the Delta Flyer's entrance. His eyes were fixed on the padd in his hand as he quickly skimmed the information he needed to review, and yet, his mind kept going in a loop over the events that had taken place in the last few hours. He had to admit this: Voyager continuously kept true to its legacy. *Thou shalt not get involved in things that are not significant enough*--seemed to be the decree by which Janeway ruled lately. And the Spirits invariably kept it that way, time and again. The one civilization they had to hit upon after their sensors had picked up signs of advanced technology seven light years away, had to be an Inter-planetary Monarchy spread over three star systems--a huge galactic force evolved and technologically immense enough to be considered worthy of being on par with the Federation itself. The only thing was they had no idea who these people were. Nowhere on their six years journey through the Delta Quadrant had they ever heard anyone mention the Zokaa'r Sovereignty to them. Voyager had been asked--more like *compelled*--to dock at the space station they'd reached along with the Zokaa'rian ships. The docking clamps had been attached, the information nodes connected for the data to flow into Voyager's databanks. However, none of the species they'd yet learned about were even familiar to Seven, who as Voyager's resident Borg was normally the person to ask such questions. This mighty alliance, with all its exotic colors and tastes, remained a mystery. He didn't know what to think. Seven days ago, Voyager had been on the brink of a crippling power breakdown. Their recent conflict with the Detarians--a particularly nasty Delta Quadrant species they'd had the misfortune to meet--had left the ship shaken and its power banks nearly depleted. After making their narrow escape, with energy reserves down to critical levels, Voyager had limped across uncharted space for twelve days, before long-range sensors had detected far away traces of a technologically advanced civilization. The ensuing briefing had resulted in Janeway's immutable declaration that to get help, Voyager would use up the rest of their power reserves to reach the detected civilization. At warp seven no less. There had been a short delay during which the command team argued over the supposed viability of the rather brazen plan. Or to be more accurate, a gritted-teethed Chakotay argued while Janeway pretended to humor him. He felt his points were valid. They had just barely survived a vicious alien attack. Their power levels were down, and they needed to restock their supplies and repair many critical systems soon. To burn the remaining power that they had, traveling towards an unknown destination at high warp, when in truth they had no idea who or what they might encounter seven light years away, was not only brazen but unwise as well. Illogical, as Tuvok had put it. But an obstinate Kathryn Janeway was like a rising maelstrom--exhaustingly implacable once she set her mind to do something. So here they were, seven days later, with him yet again being forced to put his simmering frustration at the captain's obstinacy aside--because they'd found themselves in the midst of a whole new ballgame. A fold in subspace kept this territory amazingly hidden from all outside eyes, and it was only sheer luck that had allowed Voyager this glimpse when they'd run an offhand long range scan at that particular moment--eight thousand light years away. That the rupture had been open at the point of the scan was nothing but a coincidence; a coincidence that had showed them a window into another world, another universe. And it was a whole other universe--with dozens of star systems within its fold, with their own sets of species and technologies. A universe not yet marred by the Borg's invasive force. The Zokaa'r Sovereignty was also extensive, spread out over three star systems, encompassing twenty-eight individual worlds, sixty-seven terra-formed moons, and asteroid settlements of the kind no one in the Federation had ever come across. Not to mention, of course, the four suns--two of which were the binary stars of the Zokaa'r home system, their living fuel--fifteen thousand light years away. When facing a host fleet so enormous, it was generally considered tactful to comply with local wishes. After all, if the Zokaa'rians had really wanted to overpower Voyager, they wouldn't have needed to show such an obtrusive display of native hospitality. However, Kathryn Janeway could never be entirely pleased. They'd called *him* the First One. The scans they'd taken, they said, showed *him* to be the integral constituent of the command team. That was why they'd sent the contact hails in the sequence that they did. The First One. The Observer. The Guide. And they had no title for the captain. She had definitely not taken that fact well. Chakotay was certain it was nothing more than a cultural misunderstanding. The Zokaa'rians followed a unique style of a patriarchal monarchy. As in any imperialistic society, the rulers of these worlds lived within their own set rules, and had their own rigid way of looking at the universe. And like any other monarchy, they seemed to judge all outsiders by their own specific standards. At least, that was the impression Chakotay got from his first few visual encounters, via the commlink, with the Honorable Governor-general Rah'toveem of Kel'nohr. Kel'nohr was one of the twenty-eight main worlds of the Zokaa'r Sovereignty. It was the world Voyager was currently visiting. Apparently, the governor-general was only an attaché to the Zokaa'r High Council present on the planet, the person who would present the Voyager entourage to the Zokaa'r royals. Although each planet was ruled by its own Chieftain, who was a local ruling the native population and who ran the government--which in Kel'nohr's case was a Kel'zian--a Zokaa'r Great Overseer working under the System King remained at hand on each world. This seemed to be the system the Sovereignty had fashioned to make this monarchy work. Chakotay felt a dull throbbing pain start in his temples. He felt as if he were having an information overload. He wished he were still in his office where he could replicate a soothing tea to ease his pains, but there was no time to do that now. The few hours they'd gotten had simply not been enough time to get current on the history of a civilization that was hundreds of years old. However, in the face of unexpected events, one had to do like the Borg. Adapt. As the image of Voyager's resident Borg's *adaptation* of the events summary came to his mind, a presentation that he personally had been an audience to only an hour ago, Chakotay felt a smile start at the corners of his mouth. And how could he forget the performance he'd received from B'Elanna a little later? If nothing else, no one could accuse either of them of ever failing to speak their minds. His thoughts suddenly shifted at the sound of the twin doors opening, and his eyes lifted up to watch the other two members of his away team enter Shuttlebay 2. # # "I can't believe you're *still* reading that report." The blink-beep of the instruments around him provided the much-loved harmonies of the pre-flight sequence. His fingers flew to the controls, every single action taken part of a concerto ingrained in his brain, brought forth of its own accord, effortless. Still, it was at times like these when Tom literally felt like rolling his eyes in exasperation. They'd walked inside the shuttlebay to the sight of their First Officer still engrossed in the datapadds they'd left him with half an hour ago. He and Tuvok had just ended a brainstorming session with Chakotay in his own office. Four hours of thinking and planning and focused deliberations, covering all the things they needed to keep in mind when they went down to the planet. Tom's thoughts were literally in a whirl from all the details they were supposed to concentrate on, and he'd run the moment he got the chance to give his brain a rest. And yet, it appeared that his CO had a one-track single-mindedness to rival even the Borg's. Didn't the guy ever take a break? "I wasn't reading the report," Chakotay replied from his station behind Tom, his tone calm and not at all repentant. "It's the two separate summaries Seven and B'Elanna wrote for our perusal. Which of course *you* refuse to read." Ah, the summaries of objections, Tom shook his head. First Seven, then B'Elanna, stopping by the First Officer's office to state the reasons why they thought getting willingly locked up inside an unfamiliar planet's security grid was such an idiotic idea. It was good the two ladies dropped by separately. He didn't think B'Elanna would've particularly taken well to the fact that she and Seven had actually come up with identical reflections. But then, he couldn't be all that sure about B'Elanna, could he? With the mood swings she'd been displaying lately... "Please," Tom snorted, trying to keep his tone light as he turned around to lock his eyes with his crewmate. "Keep *those* away from me. I think I've had enough irate half-Klingons for one day." The words were out before he could stop them. With a silent curse, Tom mentally kicked himself as he averted his eyes from Chakotay's. Nope, he thought, doesn't matter how you feel about the situation, Tommy boy, this was not the thing to say in front of this man. And as if his self-recrimination wasn't bad enough, for that one brief moment before he dropped his gaze, he thought he caught a faint glimmer of the same dark speculation in Chakotay's eyes that he'd noticed in his office. That hint of troubled confusion bordering on yet-unsubstantiated anger that seemed to ask: *What happened guys, what's wrong between you two?* Or perhaps more accurately: *What the hell have you done to fuck up _now_, Paris?* And who could blame him? Everyone knew about Chakotay's loyalty to the people he cared about, and didn't that same loyalty demand that he always take side of his beloved B'Elanna against anyone who pissed her off? Besides, what was Paris to him other than the guy who had never given him anything but a headache? In a sudden twinge of hurt mingled with anger, Tom felt his jaws clench at the memory of B'Elanna barely sparing a glance in his direction, while she gave Chakotay and Tuvok her detailed report--even though he'd been present there the whole time. However, when he looked up he was startled to see a hint of--waitaminute, was it sympathy?--in Chakotay's eyes, a quick unexpected flash of good-natured indulgence that flabbergasted Tom completely, breaking the spell. All of a sudden, it was as if that look had never been there in the first place. As if it had been nothing but a figment of his imagination. "What can I say?" Chakotay was speaking again, so Tom shook himself out of his reverie to pay attention. "My duties as the First One require me to be adequately acquainted with every aspect of Zokaa'r society." There was playful humor in the First Officer's voice. "I am not just a *navigator*, you know, unlike *some* people..." Okay, Tom blinked; this was definitely a new one. He looked into Chakotay's eyes, feeling totally exasperated and yet sensing his recent stab of anger--which was at heart mostly self-directed--subside for the moment. He had no idea what the commander was up to. Hell, maybe it was nothing more than just a chance he was being given to make the best of the current conversation, for the sake of the mission. After all, the two of them were going to be on the planet together for the next three days and it was always better to be amicable on an away mission, wasn't it? But what if it was something else, something more? He decided to play along, if only for the time being. "I am not just the navigator," he huffed and drawled dramatically. "I am the Guide. The one who leads the way, if you give due credence to what Minister L'Ragh said." "Ah yes, Minister L'Ragh, of the System-wide Vessels Navigation Control," Chakotay was grinning fully now. "Yeah, I gathered he's in charge of briefing all incoming alien pilots." "All incoming alien pilots who *guide* their vessels into the Great Unknown otherwise known as the admittedly hostile Delta Quadrant." "Well, Tom, I can't deny the hostile part..." "Then is it logical to assume," said Voyager's Tactical Chief, "that I, as the Observer, must be fully prepared to keep an eye on the First One and the Guide, in case they get into... unprecedented trouble in the midst of this... Great Unknown?" Tom couldn't help but roll his eyes at that, as Chakotay's soft chuckle came from behind him. "Why, Tuvok," he started incredulously, "you almost say that as if we have a *history* or something." Hence, that was how their journey down to the planet began. His mood swinging from morbid to merry in a manner of minutes, Tom hoped things would remain jovial throughout their three-day mission as well. He knew the captain was finding it particularly difficult to rebound from her disappointment than she normally would in other circumstances. It was unfortunate, he thought, that her frustration stemmed from the simple fact that the civilization they'd be doing business with was a patriarchy--a revelation that she'd taken as a personal affront to her authority. He didn't know what they could've done to prevent things from unfolding the way they did. Voyager had, after all, encountered female-dominated societies on various occasions in the past, and Janeway being a female had led matters on those instances by herself, while the male members of her command staff had willingly taken a back seat. So it wasn't like the Zokaa'rians painted some completely outlandish scenario or something. To explore the new and the exotic--wasn't that the reason why they had put on the uniform? At least, that was the spirit, wasn't it? Their hosts now seemed to be taking the utmost care to direct the highest respect to Voyager's captain, now that they knew who she was. She was personally going to be attended by the Chieftain from the home planet they were visiting. And she'd be outside, along with the rest of the Voyager crew, free and unhindered by any alien high-level security grid--unlike the three of them, who'd be virtually locked in and unreachable for three days. This setting, if not prompting outright suspicions like Voyager's resident Borg and half-Klingon were harboring, should've at least made all of them a bit cautious. They all knew that during their trade negotiations, they would be totally incommunicado with Voyager, and completely at the mercy of their hosts. As it was, it was a prospect they just had to accept. Especially now that the Zokaa'r repair teams had already started arriving on Voyager. The station Voyager was currently docked at also served as dry-dock, and the preliminary repair work, as a goodwill gesture, was soon to begin on the badly damaged vessel. That, of course, had been all the stimulus the captain had required. Tom was just hoping Chakotay and Tuvok's negotiation skills would get Voyager a rewarding deal with the Zokaa'rians. The repair work was the primary reason they'd come asking for help, but there were several other trade items they would be interested in exchanging with the Sovereignty, such as food and medical supplies and power enhancement equipment. Information exchange was Voyager's primary trading tool. There was a whole other universe which the Sovereignty didn't know much about and the better the impression the three-man team made with that information, the better the trading chances would be for all of them. Something told Tom that in this instance how good an impression Voyager made would make all the difference in how the three-man team was treated on the surface. He just hoped Janeway's recently developed foul mood would be improved by the time the Chieftain arrived on Voyager. For diplomacy's sake. The lift-off signals sent back and forth between the three crewmates correlated with incoming signals from the station grid over the planet and from Voyager's Bridge, as the three officers worked in synchrony. With everything going according to plan, the shuttlebay doors slowly opened, and the Flyer rose at his command, quietly slipping out of the hangar--and once again they were greeted by the magnificent spectacle of the station at which they were docked. It was a large, strikingly impressive lattice of powerful titanium-based alloys coiled around and integrated with what seemed like the biggest and most sophisticated space station he'd ever come across. It was beautifully constructed and positioned over the lush blue-green planet. What was even more amazing was the fact that this particular league of technology was evidently not unlike what seemed to be in place around all the other habitable worlds in Zokaa'r space. As the Flyer neared the station grid, flying towards the planet's atmosphere, the invisible energy barrier enveloping the entire planet came down. Tom knew the time of the grid opening to admit them was to coincide with the arrival of the Chieftain's Royal Vessel, and he watched as the Flyer passed the long sleek black ship approaching Voyager. The ship had an unconventional design, aesthetically appealing and impressive, and was obviously built for speed and luxury. His eyes suddenly flew to his controls, the Royal Vessel momentarily forgotten, as Chakotay's voice broke through his haze, announcing the changes in hull pressure at the Flyer's descent. As the Flyer followed his commands and sank deeper into the clouds swirling in Kel'nohr's blustering atmosphere, those inborn deep-rooted instincts again took over--the same music that sang to him each time he was at the helm of a vessel. The ionic charges frayed against the Flyer's frame, rocking it from one side to the next, as the small ship plunged at his behest, and all he felt was a sheer rush of pleasure as his fingers danced over the controls, easing the ship down towards the planet's surface. And then the clouds parted, and he forgot the Royal Vessel completely. They had taken scans from orbit, had some idea of the level of technological advancement the Zokaa'rians dwelled in, but the world visible below them now--Kel'nohr, the planet they were visiting--painted a picture more impressive than almost anything they'd come across in the Delta Quadrant. Skyscrapers strewn for as far as the eye could see, sketched across a lush, immaculately manicured terrain from which rose magnificent city dwellings and complexes in breathtaking, alien splendor. His eyes widened as the Flyer passed over a large body of crystal-clear water and he saw dwellings *inside*--large glass domes constructed at various depths, their transparent surfaces reflecting light in the brightness of day. "Did you see those?" he asked his companions, not able to wrench his eyes away from the spectacle, feeling dumbstruck with amazement. "Yeah..." he heard Chakotay's voice behind him, and realized the First Officer was talking about the swank anti-grav vehicles rushing across the sleek smooth lanes, weaving their way between lodgings which seemed to be constructed on anti-grav platforms themselves--hovering above the ground. Not a bad place to be, he heard himself think. Patches of beautifully cultivated natural habitats sat amidst a seemingly unending trail of state-of-the-art metropolitan structures. Shuttles flew across the city skies. Hover-cars raced over the ground. Sky-high living quarters floated in mid air. Aesthetically appealing domiciles were constructed at various locations over the clear blue oceans. Not a bad place at all; he felt his explorer's heart skip a beat or two in excitement. A beeping console took him out of his awed reverence long enough to confirm the set-down point as indicated by the Kel'zian authorities, and he slowly, carefully brought the Flyer down. With a flourish, the small ship settled in the vicinity of the impressive official looking structure in front of which they could already see the welcoming committee gathering. Taking in a deep breath, he turned around on his seat. He looked first at Chakotay, and then at Tuvok. "Well, this is nice, I'd say..." he began. "Though not wholly extraordinary," Tuvok said, "the dwellings on this world seem sufficiently imposing." Tom grinned. "High praise from a Vulcan." "Indeed," the Vulcan replied. Tom again caught wry amusement on Chakotay's otherwise relaxed face, and for a moment wondered how he could always look so calm. "Might I remind you," Tuvok started again, "that in your incredulous excitement, it would be imprudent if you were to attempt to step out of the Delta Flyer ahead of Commander Chakotay and I? As the First One, he is to emerge ahead of the Observer, and as the Observer, I go before the Guide." Great! Tom smirked, feeling an urge to roll his eyes again. "Thank you for your timely reminder, Tuvok," Chakotay nodded. "Just making sure proper protocol is followed." "Right," Tom drawled. "Do you think the Zokaa'rians were impressed by the Guide's simply phenomenal navigating capabilities?" At this, the First Officer got up. He looked at both members of his away team closely, and smiled. "Let's find out." And that was when the exit hatch to the Flyer was pushed open, and Voyager's negotiating team stepped out into the hot, invigorating Kel'nohr afternoon. # # Continued in Chap 1b _________________________________________________________________ Help STOP SPAM with the new MSN 8 and get 2 months FREE* http://join.msn.com/?page=features/junkmail ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ASCEM messages are copied to a mailing list. Most recent messages can be found at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ASCEML. NewMessage: