STAR TREK: A Long Road (Voyager Fix It Quest)

"We...might have a way to help you out here," Janeway said. "I want you to meet someone."

"Oh? Who?" R'mor asked.

"The Dragon," Janeway said.

"Oh. Sounds scary."

The singing ping sound of a steel drum filled Danara's ears as she leaned back in her seat, felt the warm sun on her face, and sipped the big foofy drink. She set it down beside her and looked out at the glittering blue waves that crashed against the shores, while a preposterously well muscled, dark skinned Terran walked by, bald and beaming - his teeth bright white and glittering. "Well hello there," he said, looking her up and down with a wink. "What's a beautiful lady like you doing alone on a beach like this?"

Danara, who had never in her life been looked at like that before, sat up and stammered. "I, uh...that...uh...uh...computer, what do I say?"

The waves, wind, steel drum and beautiful man all froze. "This program," the female voice of the ship's computer rang out. "Is a freeform holodeck program with parameters designed by...Tom Paris."

"I know that!" Danara said, her cheeks heating. "He gave it to me - I mean, what do I say to...query, what is this character's name?"

"Answer: Secret Agent Jamie Black."

"I...query: Secret agent, define."

"Answer: A secret agent is a military, paramilitary, or private contractor who works for a state, private or independent intelligence organization with the primary goal of attaining espionage data and retaining similar data for their own faction, side, or benefactor."

Danara frowned. "And he will...query, and he will have...intercourse with me in this scenario?"

"Answer: Yes."

"...that has nothing to do with intelligence services," Danara said. "Well, I suppose-"

Her com-badge blipped. "Danara, I know you're currently in holodeck, are you free?" Janeway's voice sounded grim.

"Yes," Danara said, immediately. "I will be there immediately." She tapped the combadge, then bit her lip. "Query: Can...this...program be resumed at this point?"

"Answer: Yes."

"Computer, end program," Danara said, standing as the holograms fuzzed away and she was once more standing in an orange-black box of even gridlines that seemed to stretch out infinitely in all directions. Technically, they did - the holodeck involved using an inverted warp field to expand space/time in a contained space to allow for the spaces needed. It was...just...one of the more absurd pieces of technology the humans had invented.

She loved it.

Even if it left her feeling confused most of the time.

"...query..." Danara said, blushing. "Social customs relating to sex on the holodeck?"

"Answer: Federation standard custom equates sex and sexuality on the holodeck as similar to self pleasure and masturbation."

"Oh," Danara said, then sighed. "So, women don't do it?"

"Incorrect."

"Oh!" Danara said.

"Danara Pel, this is R'mor, R'mor, this is Danara Pel," Janeway said. "Danara Pel is this sector of space's finest strategist and tactical expert."

"I...I'm decent," she said, not meeting R'mor's eyes - mostly because she was looking down at the tactical information they had available for them. She rubbed her neck, slightly, frowning and cocking her head, her eyes skimming over the documents, shutting out the rest of the room as she did so. She frowned harder, then sat down.

"I...see," R'mor said. Janeway leaned in, her voice soft.

"One of her most notable battles involved facing the Borg," she said. "They sent two cubes int this area of space - each vehicle is ten by ten kilometers long, equipped with transwarp capability, and have regenerative adaptive shields that can become essentially immune to any and all weapons fired at them."

"I see," R'mor said, frowning. "How did she defeat them?"

Janeway sighed. "She lured them into a predetermined area of space with a fleet containing the most advanced ships in her command. They then engaged the Borg in a slugging match, shifting their weapon frequencies to higher and higher rate of energetic particles. The Borg shields adapted to focus less and less on particulate reflection. Once the fleet was down to the last ship, she ordered the flanking forces in - twenty three hastily fabricated mass accelerators with a warp nacelle strapped to them, kept floating dead in space about a light hour away from the battle. The Borg shields were so adapted to the energy emissions that the railgun slugs did some serious damage."

"I see," R'mor said. "That finished them off."

"No, but while the damaged cubes were regenerating, they were able to put together a data package that held the biological and technological information that the Borg would get from assimilation and dropped it off nearby - they were right, it was enough to convince the Borg that further assimilation wasn't needed and they left."

R'mor frowned. "And you say these things are in our future, huh."

Janeway nodded, grimly, while Danara sighed and rubbed her hand against her cheek. "Sorry," she said.

"What do you mean?" R'mor asked, his frown growing more pronounced.

"I have several strategies that can save the colony," Danara said. "But...none can save you."

R'mor knocked back another round of the human drink known as "whiskey" and hissed through his teeth. He was along in the foredeck of the ship, in this kind of large, comfortable longue that seemed entirely out of place for a deep space battleship like Voyager, but was entirely reasonable for a crew so far from home, expecting to make their ship their true and real home for years. Decades, even. He looked out at the unfamiliar skies and reflected on his timetable.

"Centicredit for your thoughts?"

R'mor glanced up from his drink at the unfamiliar alien in who the Terrans had picked to run bar and tab for them. "My thoughts don't go that cheap," he said, dryly.

The alien chuckled, then poured him another shot of whiskey. "Fine, the drink then."

"Now we're talking," R'mor said, then sighed. "I...am going to die."

"I've...heard that, yeah," the alien said.

"And who are you to hear that?" R'mor asked.

"I'm Neelix! I make a note of being annoying and sticking my nose into everything," Neelix said, smiling genially. "I thought the Captain and crew are working on a way to save your butts."

"They're still trying - they said to give them an extra two hours to work on the problem. That's the upper limit of delay before, uh, the timeline sheering gets too bad." R'mor scratched at his jaw. "But that Dragon lady, Danara Pel? She's...pretty frank. And brutal. And honest. She'd make a good subaltern auxiliary, if I could steal her."

"Seems to me you're giving up a little too soon," Neelix said.

"No," R'mor said, shaking his head. "What we're looking at is a classic weak garrison situation. We have a fortification that cannot defend itself long enough without support and a force that can do a lot of damage once it breaks through. But since the starbase is weak enough to be shot through...but has a few fighters onboard, the Breen can't be baited away from it. If they attack be, the Starbase flanks them. If they attack the starbase, I can flank them."

"That sounds like a win for you, though?"

"Except that either flank attack ends with me getting killed," R'mor said. "We can take them out, but not without going down for the count ourselves."

"Then bait them here!" Neelix said, trying to sound optimistic.

"The Breen have the value target. If I'm floating around out here, they're not going to drop the colony attack and slave run to come after a piddling little bird of prey. That's the thing that changes the situation - it's not just us fighting for fighting, they're fighting to grab slaves and loot and to make a name for their Thal or Thran or whatever their rank is called."

"So, it's either attack there...or...leave the colony to their fate," Neelix said.

"And without being near the wormhole, Voyager can't do much more than wish us good luck," R'mor said. "And so, I am enjoying the best Terran whisky I can and thinking about eternity." He looked down at his glass. "I suppose that must seem very strange to you."

"Far from it," Neelix said, walking around the bar. He took a seat next to R'mor. "I've...gone into battle a few times - and sometimes, I was damn sure I was going to die. But...every time, I remembered why I was fighting and it always seemed like it was going to be worth it, in the end."

R'mor sighed. "That's what I'm doing now. Two million people." He sighed. "It'd be easier if it was just R'lash, you know."

Neelix nodded, quietly, in mutual understanding.

Two million people were a number.

R'lash was a friend.

Danara Pel nodded as R'lash looked over the various tactical designs and firing patterns - the glyphs growing increasingly speculative after the opening torpedo barrage and disruptor shot. She whistled, softly. "Damn," she said. "You...cover less bases than I'd thought - most of the battle plans I got in the Academy had three more steps."

"Irrelevent," Danara said, nodding. "Any plan that cannot adjust to situations past the first pass is too brittle." She shook her head. "Adaption is the trick."

"Learned it from the Brag, right?" R'lash asked, grinning at the other woman. The two of them were standing in the briefing room off from the bridge, given their own privacy from the hustle and bustle of the crew trying to find a solution to an impossible problem.

"No, teaching 4th graders," Danara said, absently.

R'lash gave her a quizzical look, then shook her head. "Okay." She grinned, then downloaded the information to her PADD. "It'll be fun dying gloriously for the Empire, just so long as I get to do this thing..." She tapped one of the glyphs. "How the fuck did you ever think of this?"

"I remember that while inertia is optional, it...still exists," Danara said, shrugging. "You may black out. Or...green out. I suppose. Your blood is green, right."

"Yup," R'lash said, drumming her fingers on the PADD. "Now, I have two hours before going to get atomized in a nuclear fireball. Any suggestions for what to do on the ship?"

Danara blinked, then looked over and past R'lash's shoulder. "I...guess...Tom Paris seems to know what's fun?"

"Iiiiiiiii see," R'lash said, nodding to herself. "Gotcha."

"What?" Danara asked as R'lash gave her a little salute, then sauntered from the room. She came onto the bridge, muttered a question to the computer, then stepped over to the conn, where Tom Paris was keeping an eye on the wormhole. She leaned over, grinning at him.

"Hey, Mr. Paris, I hear you're what's fun on the ship," she said.

"Oh, yeah. Believe you me, Miss R'lash, I know what's fun," Tom said, giving her a boyish grin.

---
CURRENT TRUTHS: "Wormhole...TO HOME!?", "Breen fleet on the move"
CURRENT MOMENTUM: 1

Well, it looks like you can't bait the Breen to be close enough to the wormhole to either beam them out OR to do anything to influence the battle - beyond giving them the Dragon's battle plans...what does...

The Voyager Crew Do?
[ ] Make a black box with messages, to hopefully be reocvered
[ ] A short ranged point to point transporter with a life support belt. It only lasts six hours after beaming them safely off their dying ship, but if recovery craft arrive in time...
[ ] Write in

R'mor
[ ] Get extremely drunk. You have recovery shots, you can bounce back. (QM Note: recovery shots are nearly 100% effective, so no, getting drunk will not degrade his performance)
[ ] Share war stories with Neelix
[ ] Write in

Tom Paris will...
[ ] Show off his favorite holofantasy
[ ] Introduce her to a wonderful new hobby called "wargaming."
[ ] I mean, she obviously wants to fuck, so...
[ ] Write In