Delta Story
cmwende@compuserve.com
MIND GAMES NC-17
Summary: A post-Scorpion 1, pre-Scorpion 2 story, in which Janeway realizes that…
resistance is futile. Twisted and
terrifying!
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The probe inched nearer. She could feel its cold smooth surfaces even before it made contact. Its
movement was in slow motion, like seeing a holograph caught in a time lapse. She knew what
was coming… the excruciating rupture of her physical, mental and emotional being… the
nothingness that would occur… the violation of her soul. Closer and closer it came, taking on a
bizarre personality, sinister in its solitude… ominous in its omniscience. It came into contact
with the thin area of skin over her right temple. *I am not going to scream,* she vowed, pushing
images of fear aside… only to have the thought drowned out by echoes of the inhuman cries of
her own voice, sounds that carried throughout the galaxy… as it pierced her skin… as it
penetrated her meninges… as it transmuted her blood… bringing icy hot rupture to every synapse
and cell in her system… bringing possession…bringing darkness.
Janeway jolted upright, as her eyes sprung open. The chill throughout her body came from the
rivulets of sweat that found her every crevice. Her breathing was shallow and rapid and she
could feel her heart pumping and thumping, adding its racing rhythm to the flow. Her damp hair
clung to her moist skin, and the thin material of her nightgown was wet and transparent over her
clammy skin. Her cries, no, her shrieks… alerted her to where she was… in her quarters, on
Voyager. Her mind slowly responded to the visual stimuli that her eyes replayed. She swung
her legs to the side of the bed, as she sat up. She willed her breathing to slow; she pushed her
hair back, wiping away the involuntary tears which were veiling her vision. *No more; it’s over,*
she thought to herself. She looked at the disarray of bedcovers surrounding her; it was obvious
that she could have been wrestling with the devil himself. But, she was here… on Voyager…
alone. And it was the aloneness that bothered her the most. For that she was grateful… for once
in her life, when she was Borg, Kathryn Janeway was not alone… she was in communion with
the universe… with an eternity of souls.
Her breathing had slowed to a normal rate. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The fear
and pain were once more gone. With her eyes closed, she could see and hear it all… memories of
billions of beings, touching and holding and caressing her, their thoughts and hers linking to a
communal one, creating a an infinity with all places and time. She got out her bed, and
stumbled to her bathroom, trying to brush the strands of the cobwebs of the dream from her
mind. Without calling for light, she splashed some water on her face. Ah, reality. Yes, she was
on Voyager.
They weren’t there at all… once again her conscious and
subconscious had merged… once more, she had to separate them.
She shuffled back into her sleeping area and slipped out of her wet nightgown, slipping into
another one. The dry, silky
material felt cold against her still-moist skin. She stared out of the window, looking into the
dark void sparkling with the reflecting bodies near and far. Where were they… were the Borg
truly out of her life, and that of her ship? The glowing
numerals on her chronometer brought her into the present — it was 0145… would she be able to
get back to sleep? She closed her eyes briefly; no ghosts… for now. Her comm badge was there
next to the chronometer… should she or shouldn’t she? Alone… she didn’t want to be alone. She
picked up the symbol of her world… her life… and softly called him.
“Chakotay… Chakotay…”
“Kathryn, are you all right?” came an almost immediate response. He sounded like he was
awake.
“I’m sorry to bother you… but… the dreams… are back. Please – can you come over, just to talk?”
“I’m on my way.”
He buzzed at her door within seconds. She opened the panel, and he came in. He had a robe on,
but was barefoot. Without
speaking, he took her in his arms, holding her close, willing the evil away. Was she sighing or
sobbing against his chest? He could not tell. He softly kissed the top of her head, tasting the
dampness of the tresses. Finally, after many moments, he gently broke the embrace, but, with
his arm around her slight shoulders, led her over to the sofa. Still, he said nothing, allowing her
to pace her thoughts.
“Chakotay, I know that you have said that you don’t remember any of the things that happened
when the Borg collective from New Hope colony directed you to restart the cube… but have you
had any indication of the connection still existing?”
“Only through my dreams, like you. And since my experience when I was under the neural link
was… (he hesitated, not wanting to again jeopardize their relationship by bringing up memories
of Riley Frazier)… pleasant. My only pain was from my injuries, and the neural link and its
shared experiences… were good ones. I only wish you could have shared that side of their being.”
He again pulled her close, brushing back the wisps of hair that were falling onto her face. Are
you better now?”
“Chakotay… please, stay.”
“What are you asking, Kathryn?”
“I don’t want to be alone…”
“You’re not alone…”
“No, I mean…”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
He pulled her to her feet, and again put his arm around her as they went into her sleeping area.
She pulled the bedcovers into a more manageable arrangement, and they lay down. He pulled the
sheet up, covering both of them. He rolled onto his side, and placed his arm over her chest. His
face was just over hers, as he spoke.
“I’m here, and I know that’s all that you want. Try to sleep, Kathryn.” He tenderly kissed her,
and she rolled into the comforting protection of his arms. Their breathing assumed a tandem
rhythm, and they fell asleep sharing breaths and bodies and bed.
Through the fog of sleep, she heard him call her. She tried to open her eyes, but in that limbo
territory of dream and reality, she could not make out in what state she existed. The voices were
back… calling her, pleading… exposing her once again to all places and all beings… come on,
snap out of it, Kathryn… the visions were tumbling now…
“Chakotay…” She felt his weight shifting; he was on top of her. Did she want this now? Amid the
swirling spirits and souls and others? This was supposed to be private… yes, she had dreamt of
this happening, too… but not now… no, she didn’t want to share this…
His hands were exploring her body. They were warm… inviting… insistent… She returned his
caresses… she realized that his robe was off, and that he was easing her out of her nightgown…
yes, I want you, Chakotay… but the rest of you… the billions of you… this is *our* moment… go
away! Or am I just dreaming this… I want you so much, my wonderful Chakotay! His hands
were burning her flesh; yet she was cold. Warm me, yes… warm me! I’m so cold… still the
voices… the gray and black images… he was getting closer and closer to her… she could feel the
heat and throbbing and pulsing of him as he approached her opened legs… yes, warm me… drive
away the wraith of that monster… wake me up with your life… She was gasping now, as he
started his entry… oh, yes; yes… fill me with life
again…
Her gasps were quicker… and then she screamed. She screamed herself awake, as she felt him
enter her. He was cold…
metallic… smooth… like a probe… and the voices were still there…
“We are the Borg… resistance is futile…”
************GOOD NIGHT, MY FRIENDS; SWEET DREAMS!****************