Rocky
01-31-2008, 02:06 AM
Title: Blackbird
Author: Rocky
Contact: rockytster@gmail.com
Web site: http://www.angelfire.com/yt/rockyroad
Series: VOY
Part: New 1/1
Rating: PG13
Codes: C & T
Date first posted: 1/31/08
Archive: ASC yes, all others please ask
Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager and its characters are the property of
Paramount/Viacom. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: B'Elanna and Chakotay and a shuttle crash.
Author's Notes: Takes place mid-season three, before the Borg
encounter. Many thanks to Seema for the beta.
Blackbird
By Rocky
B'Elanna dragged herself up by sheer force of will, trying desperately
not to touch any console parts that still had live current coursing
through. Though the billowing smoke made visibility almost impossible,
she could tell the comm panel was a lost cause. Ditto navigation and
propulsion.
A sudden fit of coughing bent her double once more. She took small
gasps of the acrid air, hoping she wouldn't end up hacking up a lung.
The spasm passed, and she slumped against the cracked pylon in relief.
A low moan caught her attention. "B'Elanna?"
"Chakotay!" She turned to the nearest pile of rubble--which had once
been the co-pilot's station--and began digging, ignoring the sharp bits
of titanium that stung her already raw hands.
His head and torso were coated in dust and grime, but aside from some
cuts and scrapes he looked more or less intact. "Are you all right?"
she asked, then berated herself for her stupidity. Anyone could tell
at a glance that he was *not* all right at all, not with the heavy
crossbeam lying across his pelvis and obscuring his legs.
"I've been better," he said, with his typical understatement.
She leaned over him. What had Kes called them, in the course on field
medicine and triage? Right, the ABC's--Airway, Breathing, Cardio.
He winced when she felt for the pulse in his throat. "Sorry," she
said. "Well, you're bruised quite a bit, and there's a nasty gash on
your temple, but you appear to be alive."
"And going to stay that way." He shifted slightly. "Help me up."
"I don't think that's a good idea, Chakotay. You could have back
injuries--"
"Help me up," he said again, struggling to raise himself on his arms.
"****, that hurts."
"How far down does it hurt?" she asked.
"I can't feel my legs," he said at once, answering her unspoken
question. "But it hurts like hell everywhere else."
"That's probably a good thing," she said, grasping his shoulders and
easing him into a semi-sitting position. He turned his head--wincing
once again--and gave a low whistle when he saw the extent of the damage
surrounding them.
"Hull intact?" he asked.
She nodded. "I think so. Most of the consoles are little better than
scrap metal, though."
Chakotay closed his eyes. "Anything still working?"
"I was just about to check out the auxiliary systems."
"How are we fixed for life support?"
From an earlier glimpse out the main viewport, B'Elanna knew night had
already fallen outside. "Like I said, the hull appears to be intact.
So we should be able to retain heat for a while."
He glanced around at the dimness. "Some of the emergency lighting is
functioning."
"So we have some reserve power, yes."
"Enough to power a distress beacon?"
"I'll let you know in a second." B'Elanna headed toward the starboard
side of the shuttle. "Yes. And the damage doesn't seem to be too bad
over here. I think I can set up a signal. But--"
"But what?"
"Reserves are only at 25%. There isn't enough for both a signal and
maintaining life support."
"You said we should be able to retain heat--"
"Oxygen is still a problem. If we shut down life support, we'll run
out of breathable air in four hours."
Chakotay didn't hesitate. "Set up the beacon."
"Chakotay--"
"If Voyager picks up our signal, they'll be here before we run out."
"*If* they pick up the signal," she pointed out. "The same ion storm
that sent us down through the moon's atmosphere is sure to interfere
with communications. We could be dead before Voyager even knows we're
here."
"We were just approaching sensor range when the storm hit. The captain
will be looking for us. Voyager will be able to track our warp trail,
get close enough to pick up our signal."
B'Elanna wondered at the confidence in his voice. She looked at him
again, saw how pale he was. The thought struck her that Chakotay was
more seriously injured than he was letting on, that he wasn't sure he
was going to even last as long as the oxygen held out.
"OK, then, you're the commander."
She punched in the commands, then swore.
"What is it?"
"This panel's not as undamaged as I thought. I'm bypassing some of the
relays."
"Can you still get a signal out?"
"It won't be anything fancy, but yes, it will give our position." She
finished her work and suddenly slumped over, feeling a pounding
headache and a stitch in her side.
"B'Elanna!" His voice sounded weaker than it had a moment before. "Are
you all right?"
"Fine," she answered shortly. "How about you?" She knelt by his side,
and tearing a piece of fabric from her tunic, wiped away the blood
trickling from the gash in his forehead. His skin felt clammy to the
touch. Frowning, she felt his chest. He tried unsuccessfully to evade
her probing hands.
"Stay still," she said. "I'm no doctor, but I think you've got a
broken rib. Or two."
He put his hand on hers as she attempted to continue her exploration
further down. "There's nothing we can do about it now. Unless you've
got an osteoregenerator, I think the ribs will have to wait till we
get to Sickbay."
The first aid kit had been stowed in the section of the shuttle that
had been the hardest hit. "Sorry, I don't. Let me feel your abdomen,
Chakotay."
Again, he resisted. "To what end? I repeat, we'll just have to wait."
"Right." She sat down next to him. "We wait."
"That's a first."
"What is?"
"You listening to me, not arguing, not jumping up trying to see if you
can *do* something, anything."
She gave him a suspicious look. "And what is that supposed to mean?"
"It's not like you, at least," he corrected himself. "Not like how you
used to be. I guess being in Starfleet has taught you some patience."
She snorted. "Hardly. If anything, I'm even less patient than I used
to be because now I automatically assume that no matter what I do,
something is going to go wrong."
"That so?"
"Yeah. Our current situation isn't proof of that? Routine mission to
survey the planetary system, and then all of a sudden, here we are,
crash-landed on some godforsaken moon." She immediately wished she
could take back those last words.
He only said, mildly, "Maybe you should have gone with Paris instead."
She rolled her eyes. "Being stuck in the same shuttle with Paris for
18 hours is not my idea of a good time. Besides, who's to say I
wouldn't be worse off?"
"Say what will you will about Paris--and Spirits know, I'm no fan of his
--but the man can pilot a ship."
"Ion storms don't play favorites, Chakotay. This had nothing to do
with you. We were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."
He attempted a smile; it came out more like a grimace. "I'm glad to
hear you say that. I was beginning to get a complex about my flying
skills. Carey and some of the other engineers have been grumbling
about shuttle repairs."
"Let them grumble. Things are tough all over. If Carey isn't happy,
I'd be only too happy to put him on replicator maintenance instead. Or
maybe waste extraction."
"Hey, I was only joking about the shuttles." Chakotay amended, "At
least, mostly."
"Right." B'Elanna half-rose to get a look at the emergency beacon,
still pulsing a steady green. No responses. She sat back, trying not
to let her discouragement show.
"So what's wrong with Paris?" Chakotay said, as if she hadn't
indicated that part of the conversation was over. "I heard you bit his
head off the other day in the Mess Hall for no reason."
"He was being annoying."
"He seems to like you."
"And every other female on board Voyager," she said tartly. "Am I
supposed to feel flattered? Tom Paris is an arrogant, smarmy son of a
bitch with an overly developed sense of entitlement."
"Harry's his friend."
"Harry is a sweet but naive kid who always sees the best in people."
"That's not a bad way to be," Chakotay said thoughtfully. "Especially
out here."
"Meaning?"
"You might try it yourself sometime."
B'Elanna's reply was cut off when she noticed his head wound was
bleeding once more. She tore off another piece of fabric, and applied
pressure. Chakotay didn't react. Seizing her opportunity, she gently
pressed down on his abdomen. To her dismay, it felt rigid and
distended.
"B'Elanna--"
"I think you've got internal bleeding, Chakotay!" she said, her fear
coming out as anger. She jumped up to glance once more at the beacon.
"Damn it! Maybe if I try to boost the signal--"
"B'Elanna." He grasped her hands. "B'Elanna, not even you can fix
everything."
"But there has to be something I can do--"
"There is. Come sit by me again ." She slumped down in defeat. "Shh."
He stroked her hair clumsily. "Let me tell you a story."
"A story?"
"An ancient legend of my people."
B'Elanna opened her mouth to refuse. She'd had enough of Chakotay's
"ancient wisdom" back in the Maquis, had curtly refused his offer of
helping her find her animal guide. It had seemed like a lot of
foolishness, and worse, a distraction. But then she took another look
at Chakotay, noted how his breathing had become more rapid and
shallow. "Sure, tell me a story."
"Blackbird lived a desperate existence, living off the pickings of
others, at times even reduced to stealing from the cultivated fields
to keep from starving. On one such foray, a child threw stones at him
and he crashed to the ground, his wind broken. He lay there for a long
time, frightened, unable to fly, growing hungrier and thirstier as
time went by. At last, when he felt his strength ebbing away, hands
reached down and carried him away. The boy who had caused his injury
felt sorry for him, and turned to his grandfather for help. The old
man bandaged the wing and laid him in a soft box to heal. Every day
the boy would bring him food and water. At first Blackbird was too
weak, and too afraid, to do more than sip some water. But soon he felt
strong enough to nibble some corn, and within a week could hobble
weakly from one side of his box to the other. Every so often Blackbird
would look up at the sky, and then his gaze would return to the ground
which was his prison."
Chakotay's voice was growing fainter. B'Elanna leaned closer, fighting
her rising panic.
"After a time, the Old Man decided the wing had mended. He removed the
bandage, and together he and the boy brought Blackbird back out to the
field. 'Fly and be free,' the Old Man said, pointing toward the
heavens. But Blackbird was afraid. 'Fly,' the Old Man said again. 'It
is who you were meant to be.' Blackbird slowly raised his eyes to the
sky, and gave a feeble stir. 'Do not fear,' said the Old Man. He
gently lifted Blackbird and released him. A gentle puff of wind caught
Blackbird's feathers, and without thinking, he spread his wings and
soared. Never had he flown higher, or father. The Old Man and Boy were
tiny specks on the ground. Ahead of him was the sun. And Blackbird
knew he was at last free."
No sooner had Chakotay finished, then he began to cough. A bloody
froth appeared on his lips.
"Chakotay!" B'Elanna clutched him in a sudden panic. "Chakotay!"
"You're the blackbird, B'Elanna," he whispered weakly. "All your life,
you've been afraid and desperate, lashing out, but now is your chance
to be truly free..."
His eyes rolled back into his head. "Chakotay!" she cried again. "Damn
it, don't leave me!"
At that moment, the signal beacon flashed red.
***
B'Elanna sat, unwillingly, on the edge of a biobed while Kes ran the
mediwand over her. She craned her head to see the opposite side of the
room, where the Doctor and Paris worked over Chakotay.
"We're almost done," Kes said reassuringly. "Only a few minor scrapes
and bruises, and I'm giving you a hypo of tri-ox and narifin, which
should take care of any lingering problems caused by the smoke
inhalation." She followed her patient's gaze. "And Commander Chakotay
is going to be just fine."
"That's good news," Captain Janeway said. B'Elanna hadn't even noticed
her approach. The captain gave her a smile and a quick squeeze of the
shoulder, then headed for Chakotay's biobed. B'Elanna watched her take
his hand while she conferred with the Doctor.
"He's going to be fine," Paris echoed, coming to join her and Kes.
"We've stopped the internal bleeding; he was lucky we got to you in
time."
"Lucky." The word felt unfamiliar on B'Elanna's lips. "Yes, I suppose
we were."
"How are you doing?" Paris asked. She looked up to see his blue eyes
staring intently at her, genuine concern etched into his face.
She exhaled slowly. "I'm fine, too," she said, and thought that it
just might be true.
FINIS
Author: Rocky
Contact: rockytster@gmail.com
Web site: http://www.angelfire.com/yt/rockyroad
Series: VOY
Part: New 1/1
Rating: PG13
Codes: C & T
Date first posted: 1/31/08
Archive: ASC yes, all others please ask
Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager and its characters are the property of
Paramount/Viacom. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: B'Elanna and Chakotay and a shuttle crash.
Author's Notes: Takes place mid-season three, before the Borg
encounter. Many thanks to Seema for the beta.
Blackbird
By Rocky
B'Elanna dragged herself up by sheer force of will, trying desperately
not to touch any console parts that still had live current coursing
through. Though the billowing smoke made visibility almost impossible,
she could tell the comm panel was a lost cause. Ditto navigation and
propulsion.
A sudden fit of coughing bent her double once more. She took small
gasps of the acrid air, hoping she wouldn't end up hacking up a lung.
The spasm passed, and she slumped against the cracked pylon in relief.
A low moan caught her attention. "B'Elanna?"
"Chakotay!" She turned to the nearest pile of rubble--which had once
been the co-pilot's station--and began digging, ignoring the sharp bits
of titanium that stung her already raw hands.
His head and torso were coated in dust and grime, but aside from some
cuts and scrapes he looked more or less intact. "Are you all right?"
she asked, then berated herself for her stupidity. Anyone could tell
at a glance that he was *not* all right at all, not with the heavy
crossbeam lying across his pelvis and obscuring his legs.
"I've been better," he said, with his typical understatement.
She leaned over him. What had Kes called them, in the course on field
medicine and triage? Right, the ABC's--Airway, Breathing, Cardio.
He winced when she felt for the pulse in his throat. "Sorry," she
said. "Well, you're bruised quite a bit, and there's a nasty gash on
your temple, but you appear to be alive."
"And going to stay that way." He shifted slightly. "Help me up."
"I don't think that's a good idea, Chakotay. You could have back
injuries--"
"Help me up," he said again, struggling to raise himself on his arms.
"****, that hurts."
"How far down does it hurt?" she asked.
"I can't feel my legs," he said at once, answering her unspoken
question. "But it hurts like hell everywhere else."
"That's probably a good thing," she said, grasping his shoulders and
easing him into a semi-sitting position. He turned his head--wincing
once again--and gave a low whistle when he saw the extent of the damage
surrounding them.
"Hull intact?" he asked.
She nodded. "I think so. Most of the consoles are little better than
scrap metal, though."
Chakotay closed his eyes. "Anything still working?"
"I was just about to check out the auxiliary systems."
"How are we fixed for life support?"
From an earlier glimpse out the main viewport, B'Elanna knew night had
already fallen outside. "Like I said, the hull appears to be intact.
So we should be able to retain heat for a while."
He glanced around at the dimness. "Some of the emergency lighting is
functioning."
"So we have some reserve power, yes."
"Enough to power a distress beacon?"
"I'll let you know in a second." B'Elanna headed toward the starboard
side of the shuttle. "Yes. And the damage doesn't seem to be too bad
over here. I think I can set up a signal. But--"
"But what?"
"Reserves are only at 25%. There isn't enough for both a signal and
maintaining life support."
"You said we should be able to retain heat--"
"Oxygen is still a problem. If we shut down life support, we'll run
out of breathable air in four hours."
Chakotay didn't hesitate. "Set up the beacon."
"Chakotay--"
"If Voyager picks up our signal, they'll be here before we run out."
"*If* they pick up the signal," she pointed out. "The same ion storm
that sent us down through the moon's atmosphere is sure to interfere
with communications. We could be dead before Voyager even knows we're
here."
"We were just approaching sensor range when the storm hit. The captain
will be looking for us. Voyager will be able to track our warp trail,
get close enough to pick up our signal."
B'Elanna wondered at the confidence in his voice. She looked at him
again, saw how pale he was. The thought struck her that Chakotay was
more seriously injured than he was letting on, that he wasn't sure he
was going to even last as long as the oxygen held out.
"OK, then, you're the commander."
She punched in the commands, then swore.
"What is it?"
"This panel's not as undamaged as I thought. I'm bypassing some of the
relays."
"Can you still get a signal out?"
"It won't be anything fancy, but yes, it will give our position." She
finished her work and suddenly slumped over, feeling a pounding
headache and a stitch in her side.
"B'Elanna!" His voice sounded weaker than it had a moment before. "Are
you all right?"
"Fine," she answered shortly. "How about you?" She knelt by his side,
and tearing a piece of fabric from her tunic, wiped away the blood
trickling from the gash in his forehead. His skin felt clammy to the
touch. Frowning, she felt his chest. He tried unsuccessfully to evade
her probing hands.
"Stay still," she said. "I'm no doctor, but I think you've got a
broken rib. Or two."
He put his hand on hers as she attempted to continue her exploration
further down. "There's nothing we can do about it now. Unless you've
got an osteoregenerator, I think the ribs will have to wait till we
get to Sickbay."
The first aid kit had been stowed in the section of the shuttle that
had been the hardest hit. "Sorry, I don't. Let me feel your abdomen,
Chakotay."
Again, he resisted. "To what end? I repeat, we'll just have to wait."
"Right." She sat down next to him. "We wait."
"That's a first."
"What is?"
"You listening to me, not arguing, not jumping up trying to see if you
can *do* something, anything."
She gave him a suspicious look. "And what is that supposed to mean?"
"It's not like you, at least," he corrected himself. "Not like how you
used to be. I guess being in Starfleet has taught you some patience."
She snorted. "Hardly. If anything, I'm even less patient than I used
to be because now I automatically assume that no matter what I do,
something is going to go wrong."
"That so?"
"Yeah. Our current situation isn't proof of that? Routine mission to
survey the planetary system, and then all of a sudden, here we are,
crash-landed on some godforsaken moon." She immediately wished she
could take back those last words.
He only said, mildly, "Maybe you should have gone with Paris instead."
She rolled her eyes. "Being stuck in the same shuttle with Paris for
18 hours is not my idea of a good time. Besides, who's to say I
wouldn't be worse off?"
"Say what will you will about Paris--and Spirits know, I'm no fan of his
--but the man can pilot a ship."
"Ion storms don't play favorites, Chakotay. This had nothing to do
with you. We were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."
He attempted a smile; it came out more like a grimace. "I'm glad to
hear you say that. I was beginning to get a complex about my flying
skills. Carey and some of the other engineers have been grumbling
about shuttle repairs."
"Let them grumble. Things are tough all over. If Carey isn't happy,
I'd be only too happy to put him on replicator maintenance instead. Or
maybe waste extraction."
"Hey, I was only joking about the shuttles." Chakotay amended, "At
least, mostly."
"Right." B'Elanna half-rose to get a look at the emergency beacon,
still pulsing a steady green. No responses. She sat back, trying not
to let her discouragement show.
"So what's wrong with Paris?" Chakotay said, as if she hadn't
indicated that part of the conversation was over. "I heard you bit his
head off the other day in the Mess Hall for no reason."
"He was being annoying."
"He seems to like you."
"And every other female on board Voyager," she said tartly. "Am I
supposed to feel flattered? Tom Paris is an arrogant, smarmy son of a
bitch with an overly developed sense of entitlement."
"Harry's his friend."
"Harry is a sweet but naive kid who always sees the best in people."
"That's not a bad way to be," Chakotay said thoughtfully. "Especially
out here."
"Meaning?"
"You might try it yourself sometime."
B'Elanna's reply was cut off when she noticed his head wound was
bleeding once more. She tore off another piece of fabric, and applied
pressure. Chakotay didn't react. Seizing her opportunity, she gently
pressed down on his abdomen. To her dismay, it felt rigid and
distended.
"B'Elanna--"
"I think you've got internal bleeding, Chakotay!" she said, her fear
coming out as anger. She jumped up to glance once more at the beacon.
"Damn it! Maybe if I try to boost the signal--"
"B'Elanna." He grasped her hands. "B'Elanna, not even you can fix
everything."
"But there has to be something I can do--"
"There is. Come sit by me again ." She slumped down in defeat. "Shh."
He stroked her hair clumsily. "Let me tell you a story."
"A story?"
"An ancient legend of my people."
B'Elanna opened her mouth to refuse. She'd had enough of Chakotay's
"ancient wisdom" back in the Maquis, had curtly refused his offer of
helping her find her animal guide. It had seemed like a lot of
foolishness, and worse, a distraction. But then she took another look
at Chakotay, noted how his breathing had become more rapid and
shallow. "Sure, tell me a story."
"Blackbird lived a desperate existence, living off the pickings of
others, at times even reduced to stealing from the cultivated fields
to keep from starving. On one such foray, a child threw stones at him
and he crashed to the ground, his wind broken. He lay there for a long
time, frightened, unable to fly, growing hungrier and thirstier as
time went by. At last, when he felt his strength ebbing away, hands
reached down and carried him away. The boy who had caused his injury
felt sorry for him, and turned to his grandfather for help. The old
man bandaged the wing and laid him in a soft box to heal. Every day
the boy would bring him food and water. At first Blackbird was too
weak, and too afraid, to do more than sip some water. But soon he felt
strong enough to nibble some corn, and within a week could hobble
weakly from one side of his box to the other. Every so often Blackbird
would look up at the sky, and then his gaze would return to the ground
which was his prison."
Chakotay's voice was growing fainter. B'Elanna leaned closer, fighting
her rising panic.
"After a time, the Old Man decided the wing had mended. He removed the
bandage, and together he and the boy brought Blackbird back out to the
field. 'Fly and be free,' the Old Man said, pointing toward the
heavens. But Blackbird was afraid. 'Fly,' the Old Man said again. 'It
is who you were meant to be.' Blackbird slowly raised his eyes to the
sky, and gave a feeble stir. 'Do not fear,' said the Old Man. He
gently lifted Blackbird and released him. A gentle puff of wind caught
Blackbird's feathers, and without thinking, he spread his wings and
soared. Never had he flown higher, or father. The Old Man and Boy were
tiny specks on the ground. Ahead of him was the sun. And Blackbird
knew he was at last free."
No sooner had Chakotay finished, then he began to cough. A bloody
froth appeared on his lips.
"Chakotay!" B'Elanna clutched him in a sudden panic. "Chakotay!"
"You're the blackbird, B'Elanna," he whispered weakly. "All your life,
you've been afraid and desperate, lashing out, but now is your chance
to be truly free..."
His eyes rolled back into his head. "Chakotay!" she cried again. "Damn
it, don't leave me!"
At that moment, the signal beacon flashed red.
***
B'Elanna sat, unwillingly, on the edge of a biobed while Kes ran the
mediwand over her. She craned her head to see the opposite side of the
room, where the Doctor and Paris worked over Chakotay.
"We're almost done," Kes said reassuringly. "Only a few minor scrapes
and bruises, and I'm giving you a hypo of tri-ox and narifin, which
should take care of any lingering problems caused by the smoke
inhalation." She followed her patient's gaze. "And Commander Chakotay
is going to be just fine."
"That's good news," Captain Janeway said. B'Elanna hadn't even noticed
her approach. The captain gave her a smile and a quick squeeze of the
shoulder, then headed for Chakotay's biobed. B'Elanna watched her take
his hand while she conferred with the Doctor.
"He's going to be fine," Paris echoed, coming to join her and Kes.
"We've stopped the internal bleeding; he was lucky we got to you in
time."
"Lucky." The word felt unfamiliar on B'Elanna's lips. "Yes, I suppose
we were."
"How are you doing?" Paris asked. She looked up to see his blue eyes
staring intently at her, genuine concern etched into his face.
She exhaled slowly. "I'm fine, too," she said, and thought that it
just might be true.
FINIS