Disclaimers, ratings and warnings are in Part 1.
THE BADLANDERS
PART FIVE
Doctor Krell, Chief Medical Officer of the destroyed vessel Voyager, found himself in a Spartan though fairly modern medical bay on the Liberty. There were three beds, one a main biobed almost similar to the one of Voyager's sickbay. There were computers that bore definite Federation signatures - a reminder that they had sacked Federation vessels, as well as surgical instruments for critical care. It boasted one replicator that was offline and could only be accessed by the Liberty's captain and two of his cohorts.
"Don't try the replicator, Doc."
Kathryn Janeway lay on the main biobed. He had set her leg but kept her sedated because of the concussion she suffered at the time of the crash. Now she lay still, her injuries treated; she was breathing at least easier. It had been touch and go keeping her alive after she collapsed a second time in the cargo bay when Chakotay came looking for her. That Chakotay didn't know who she was led him to believe that he had never met her, but Captain Janeway's reaction told him something different. Krell sighed. If it was something that could keep her alive on this ship, she had to tell him, or they'd all be lost forever.
He looked over to the other two beds where Nick Locarno and their Science chief, Lieutenant-Commander Rollei were recovering from their injuries. Nick had been severely burned. He had kept them both awaiting further treatment so that they could be spared just a little while longer from the ignominy Commander Tuvok, Jenny Delaney, Harry Kim and the rest of the survivors suffered at the hands of the crew the last fifteen hours. He experienced a dreadful guilt that Chakotay sought to spare him only as the ship's medic to help in fixing up his crew. So far none of the Maquis had marched in here to hustle him away from the medical bay for their dreadful sex games and degeneracy, a form of torture he knew was meant to subjugate and control.
An hour ago they threw Jenny Delaney into the medical bay. He had to remove Nick Locarno from the one bed and place her on it to treat wounds she sustained on her breasts, her pubic are, anal tears. The girl had been hysterical in a quiet kind of way, too quiet he thought. He was concerned. He heard her sister was also on the Liberty. Jenny had been aflame with humiliation but he had managed to soothe her, reminding her that he was a doctor. The girl had wanted to kill herself. He understood why the replicators could only be accessed by the cruel lead and his gang of rapists. Almost as soon as he had treated her wounds, she had been carried off again, this time to become the slave of one of the Maquis members. He sighed and shook his head.
When they were brought into sickbay, he had been ordered to work on the Captain first, stabilising her before starting on the others. Then he had returned to her, set her broken bones and treated the burns on her legs. He had scanned her neural activity, frowning as he found an anomalous reading on the tricorder, discovering a tiny dark patch at the base of her skull. It wasn't a blood clot, of that he was certain. Janeway would have been dead long ago. And, it wasn't something that had been brought about by the concussion she suffered, though it could relate to an old injury. He would have to wait until he brought her out of her sedation to ask her a few questions about it before removing the offending patch.
Strange thing, he thought. The tricorder showed only a feint signal, and would have been missed by anyone who didn't know much about the workings of a medical tricorder.
Harry Kim had been dragged from the medical bay by Tom Paris and two of the Maquis who looked to him evil, though not half as malevolent as Captain Chakotay. He had no doubt as to Harry's fate and felt excessively sorry for all of them. Jenny Delaney had been screaming when they dragged her from the cargo bay and she too was left in little doubt about what would happen to her. They all heard the stories. Now they were confronted head-on with them not as the conquerors they thought they would be on their dangerous mission, but the vanquished whose fate it was to be whored on the Liberty, other Maquis vessels or whored out into slavery.
Chakotay had been astute to transport them to the Liberty seconds before Voyager exploded. They were good to be bargained with, trading opportunities, revenue for the Maquis, sex toys.
He looked up, disturbed when Tuvok was thrown right through the open doors of the medical bay to land at his feet. The Vulcan was severely beaten, his face a bloodied pulp. He turned Tuvok on his back and the Vulcan moaned slightly, not wanting to give in to his pain.
Krell propelled himself into action, treating the semi-conscious Vulcan right there on the floor for injuries sustained to his head, ribs, stomach, his lower body. About half an hour later, Tuvok rose to his feet, still groggy, but stable at least. Tuvok was stoic as he moved forward and stood at the biobed, staring down at the captain.
"I am sorry, Commander. If it is in my power at all to protect you..."
"Doctor, we are alive," Tuvok replied succinctly. "I trust we can keep the captain from any harm but I am afraid that does not appear likely. The...treatment..." Tuvok was quiet a few moments, gathering his strength and his equilibrium. "The females on board suffer more. I do express concern that Captain Janeway - "
"Then, Commander, we must both try our very best. At least she is alive and who knows, we could salvage something from this mission. You are Chief of Security, therefore I should tell you I have found something in my examination of the Captain that concerns me a little. Perhaps it's an old injury. Only she can tell..."
They both looked down when the captain began stirring awake.
"Captain..."
The captain looked at them in turn, her eyes still a little heavy from the sedative.
"Doctor? Tuvok?"
"We are surviving as best we can, Captain," Krell said as he helped her to a sitting position. Janeway rubbed her legs in an exploratory manner, felt there was no more pain, no broken bones or jutting fractures. She touched her head.
"We must be brave," she said quietly, hollowly as she looked at him.
"Captain, I have treated your injuries, but there is something. Your brain, at the base of your skull..."
He noticed how her eyes became shuttered and he thought she looked reluctant to speak about it.
"It's nothing."
"Captain," Tuvok started, "I think you should let Doctor Krell know. It may be your saving grace."
Krell looked at Tuvok, grimaced that they knew about something of which he was kept in the dark.
"Only Captain Janeway and I know, Doctor, and now you will too. Captain?"
"It's an MRT - memory restoration transponder."
Something clicked, something dark and dangerous that could possibly mean their deliverance. But the MRT was embedded in her skull. The Maquis would never find it; retrieving it could be life-threatening. He couldn't tell her that, yet. Though with instinctive insight, Krell knew that Captain Janeway was aware of the risks it carried.
"Captain? The memories... Are they yours?" he had to ask.
"No, Doctor Krell. They're not mine. They - "
At that moment the doors of the medical bay opened and Chakotay, followed by B'Elanna Torres, strode purposefully towards them. Krell heard the captain gasp. She looked up at him, her eyes imploring, her demeanour anxious.
"Krell, not a word...please..."
*********
END PART FIVE