Part 12

Someone had finally alerted Tuvok to the fact that the injured Maquis had yet to be treated. A situation that was in violation of regulation number whatever. B'Elanna Torres didn't know where it said prisoners had to have access to medical care, but it did and Tuvok knew where, so no matter how pissed O'Donnell was, he still had to beam her to Sickbay.

She didn't bother rising from the cell floor, watching O'Donnell's furious face disappear as the tingling transporter beam overtook her.

Sickbay appeared around her. B'Elanna sat up. The phaser wounds to both her shoulder and stomach protested mightily to the movement but she ignored them, peering around and seeing no one, save patients who appeared to be unconscious. They hadn't been that stupid, had they? To beam her into Sickbay without anyone conscious there.

No, they hadn't.

Samantha Wildman, Dalby's paramour, walked out from behind her. She was holding a medical tricorder, making her way to the front of the bio-bed. Wildman looked...odd, was the only word B'Elanna could pick. In silence, Wildman ran the scanner over her. B'Elanna offered her arm out into the path of the tricorder. Looking past her fingers, B'Elanna let her eyes roam around Sickbay. She didn't see the EMH anywhere. Wildman had been training with the Doc for a short while, B'Elanna knew. She had thought that perhaps Wildman had been stuck with her to assure that the other patients were treated by a medical professional, but it appeared that they actually hadn't been able to activate the Doc.

Ha. Morons.

"How did that happen?"

Wildman's voice interrupted. She sounded hoarse and tired, but surprisingly sympathetic. Sympathy was not what B'Elanna had been expecting. This was an interesting development. The Maquis might have an ally who wasn't locked up or light years away from Voyager.

"Vorik," B'Elanna answered, searching Wildman's face for a reaction. "And Paris shot me twice," she added, angrily.

Waking up in a haze of pain and confusion on her Brig cell floor, with the barest memory of Paris shooting her as she rushed him in the Turbo Lift had been an awful experience. She didn't know what had happened to Paris, but she hoped it was very painful and slow.

Wildman turned away, reaching for the equipment tray. She turned her head and tossed a remark completely devoid of sympathy over her shoulder.

"Someone shot Vorik, too."

That wasn't compassion lacing Wildman's words, it was acid.

Oh well. It had been nice to hope, even for a few seconds, that Wildman might be still be on the Maquis' side. Seemed when Wildman no longer had to worry about the violence of the mutiny and whore herself to Dalby for protection, she was perfectly comfortable in a Starfleet uniform. Big shock there.

"That was Henley," B'Elanna pleasantly informed Wildman. "Not me."

Wildman took hold of her wrist, sending lancing pain jolting up B'Elanna's arm. B'Elanna ground her teeth at the sudden reunion with the pain she'd been ignoring for the past week. Upon awakening in the Brig, it had been far more important to determine just why the hell the Maquis had lost while she'd been unconscious than to lie still and experience the agony of a broken limb and two separate festering phaser wounds. Well, she'd been able to do that after the Brig guards had told her to shut up.

Wildman was running the instrument over her wrist, a dark look on her face.

"So, where's the EMH?" B'Elanna asked innocently, watching the instrument's progress and relishing in the relief it was providing.

"That's a good question," Wildman snapped. "If you asked enough of the Maquis you might find out."


At that moment, Wildman fiercely twisted B'Elanna's wrist. That was just nasty. And it *hurt*. B'Elanna chose to ignore it, deciding to wait until after medical treatment to react.

"Is Ken in the Brig?" Wildman was avoiding eye contact, her face as tight as her voice.

She's not supposed to care anymore. Why the hell would she ask?

"No," B'Elanna answered truthfully. "He must have left with Chakotay."

She watched Wildman's face for a reaction. Something flickered across it. A series of somethings followed rapidly.

"Don't worry," B'Elanna said, well aware of the taunting tone in her voice. "Janeway's made it clear that she's going to bring them all back. You can probably arrange to share a cell."

Wildman looked stunned.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Having prior knowledge of a mutiny and keeping quiet about it is frowned upon by Starfleet, *Ensign*," B'Elanna said in the closest imitation of Janeway that she could manage.

Pretty close, apparently. Wildman started stuttering out an excuse.

"You don't have to explain yourself to me," B'Elanna said sweetly. "You helped us out. Thanks."

Since Wildman had switched loyalties, it couldn't hurt to point out that her current side wouldn't like her any more if they knew what side she'd been on a week ago. It would be nice to have an ally not locked up, whether through traditional loyalty or equally traditional blackmail.

Wildman turned away, harshly directing her to take off her uniform and get into a patient gown.

It felt surprisingly good to shed the Starfleet uniform. Actually it hurt very badly to lift her arms above her head, but once she dropped the gold and black garment on the floor, she felt better. Removal of Starfleet uniforms was part of what the Maquis had meant to do.

Definitely not in Sickbay after having been shot and having lost, but it was a small...well, it wasn't a victory, it just felt damn good.

B'Elanna felt much better than she had when she'd arrived in Sickbay by the end. Wildman had remained silent while treating the phaser wounds, and it had given B'Elanna a chance to get a good uninterrupted assessment of Sickbay. She noticed Gerron, unconscious or sedated, laid out on a bio-bed. When Wildman retreated to put away various instruments, B'Elanna got up and made her way over to him.

Gerron was still very pale, the same color he'd been all week. It had taken all week for him to vomit up blood, a serious enough symptom for the Brig guards to finally decide that maybe he was going to die if they didn't get him some treatment. They hadn't been interested in Ayala's and her own insistent warnings of his condition up to that point.

B'Elanna felt Wildman's eyes on her from across the room and raised her head to meet them.

"Is he going to be alright?"

"He was hurt pretty badly," Wildman replied coldly.

B'Elanna looked down again.

"Would the EMH be able to treat him better than you can?"


There was a definite trace of expectancy in Wildman's voice, and without the accompanying contempt and anger, B'Elanna might have been tempted to undo what she had done earlier to the EMH.

As it was, she wasn't.

"Then it's a shame you can't find him."

"It's time for you to go back to the Brig. Get back in your uniform."

"I don't want to ever put that thing on again," B'Elanna said simply.

Wildman audibly smacked the heel of her hand into the console she was leaning against, before storming over to the nearest replicator. She shoved the garment that she got from it into B'Elanna hands and returned to the central Sickbay consoles, then turned her back on B'Elanna.

The transporter beam caught her by surprise, considering she'd only just pulled her head through the clothes and that Wildman had only turned around for a second.

Part 13 | Index page