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The exhausted First Officer slowed his pace and once again checked his tricorder to assess Captain Janeway's position relative to his own.
"Damnation! This is ridiculous. A total stalemate", he muttered.
Janeway had maintained her distance very carefully since firing at him and fleeing... and since both of them had tricorders, neither could gain the advantage. It was all he could do to keep up with her. The drug (or whatever the hell it was) that the alien had gotten into her must have acted like a massive stimulant, and he hadn't gotten anywhere near the dose that Janeway had. He was tired, hungry and thirsty. And in pain. (I've got to do SOMEthing...)
But what?
He stopped for a moment to sprinkle a few precious drops of water on his tongue, and to consider his few options. Still no way to contact Voyager. Only short-range scanning ability on the tricorder. He'd have to change the odds somehow, break the stalemate...
The light in the cave corridor was growing very dim, with fewer torches to guide his steps. And it was getting more narrow with every step. Something made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle, a feeling he recognized and valued from his Maquis days - a feeling that had warned him many times to be alert for impending danger. "Yes, Spirits, I hear you..."
He slowed his pace even more, stepping carefully, walking with almost feline grace, his arms, chest, t-shirt and face wet with sweat. The stuffiness in the caves was almost unbearable, and the silence stifling... Suddenly he heard a faint sound, like dry leaves falling in the breeze, a rustling that seemed to come from all around him, almost like voices in soft conversation somewhere far off... As he looked all around for the source of the sound, a faint point of light caught his eye, nearly at his feet, in the darkest part of the corridor. Just a momentary tiny blink of light, torchlight reflecting faintly off of a thin strand of something, at ankle height. Reacting almost subliminally, Chakotay stopped his feet abruptly to avoid the strand, but his forward motion kept his torso off balance. He fell forward, and had to catch himself on his hands, at arm's length, to keep from falling flat and catching his legs on the strand of whatever it was.
"Aaaahhh!" Chakotay cried out as he caught his entire weight on his arms, his wounded bicep not appreciating the call to duty. Tears of pain sprang to his eyes, and he clenched his teeth to keep from making any more noise. No need to give away his condition... As he controlled his pain and his contorted face slowly smoothed out, he opened his eyes again - and looked down onto the glittering point of his father's hunting knife, inches away from his chest, pointing upward at him from where it had been carefully wedged into a crack in the rock floor.
Letting his breath out in a hiss of surprise, Chakotay regarded the knife with awe. In the floor. Deliberately. To impale him as he fell over the strand of - what? - she had stretched across the corridor. But she had carried no rope or wire, what was it? And was it strong enough to trip him? Still poised on his hands, he looked cautiously to either side of him, only to see to his mounting amazement what purpose the strand was actually meant to accomplish. It was a trip mechanism all right, but not to make him fall - it was to trip the trigger of the phaser rifle, which was wedged into a crevice to his left and slightly ahead of the strand. And aimed up at where he had been. (The phaser shot would bring me down, he thought grimly, I wouldn't have to trip... and the knife would be waiting for me, at pretty much the perfect spot to catch me in the chest or the back. Gods, she's good... as good a guerrilla as I am. And trickier, too.)
(I need to do something soon, or she'll kill me.)
With that realization, Chakotay raised himself back to a standing position, yanked the knife out of its position, and before returning it to his scabbard, gingerly cut the strand that would have pulled the trigger on him. He ran the strand through his fingers, looking at it closely in the dim light. The smooth texture suggested Janeway had heated it - perhaps a long portion torn from her t-shirt and melted into a stronger, thinner line by her phaser. (Very subtle. Very ingenious. I never would have thought of it, not in a millenium. But I'd better think of something!...And it had better be good...)
Then the dry rustling voices swooshed through the cavern again. He couldn't quite make out what was being said... but it sounded like: "Twenty thousand credits on the male..."
"Done, and ten thousand more on the female..." And laughter. Hissing laughter.
"Who are you!?? Can you hear me?! Talk to me!" The rustling died to silence. Chakotay bristled. (What the hell is this? Sounds like the odds are running against me, and whoever the speakers are, I've got a lot of questions... Time to finish this...and get both of us back to the ship - in one piece...)
II
"Kathryn..."
After studying his tricorder and the surrounding corridors carefully for a few moments, Chakotay slid down to a sitting position and activated his com badge.
"Kathryn, I know you can hear me. Answer me, dammit." Fatigue was lending an edge to his voice, and he was too tired to care.
After a long silence, he heard her voice over the com. Still suspicious, also sounding edgy..."What do you want, whoever you are? And why aren't you DEAD?"
He heard the sarcastic emphasis she put on the last word, her voice low and husky.
"Kathryn, you must be getting tired and thirsty by now, why don't we call this off and stop stalking one another? I'm not your enemy..."
"Go to hell. REVEAL YOURSELF. I won't listen to another word unless you tell me who you really are."
Concern for her flooded over Chakotay again. The drug's effect had obviously not abated, and she still didn't know him. He wondered if the drug had affected her physical perception of him, did he actually appear to be someone or something else? Would it wear off eventually, or would they need to find an antidote? He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on what he needed to do first, licking his dry lips.
"I'm too tired to argue with you, Kathryn PLEASE trust me. Let's meet and talk this out, under a truce. And whatever you do, don't put any more of that infernal liquid on you anywhere! It's a psychoactive drug! Do you understand?" He leaned his head back against the rock wall, praying that the urgency in his voice would affect her somehow.
"Put your weapons down and surrender. Stand away from them with your hands where I can see them. Otherwise no deal."
"All right, Kathryn, whatever you say. I trust you. I'm wounded. My arm and...hand, where you shot me. I've made a bandage but I can't use my arm. I need medical attention. I'll do as you say - please come here and let's negotiate."
His tricorder told him that she was moving in his direction, though he still could not hear her. He quickly stripped off his t-shirt and wrapped it around his right hand, hiding the phaser he'd taken off his belt, his thumb on the trigger. Surveying the direction he thought she'd come from, he piled the phaser rifle and his knife together on the floor some feet away from where he stood - she'd have to look away from him to look at them, and any distraction might help him. He then stood up, muscular legs spread wide, cradling his bandaged "hand" in his left hand...
As Janeway slowly and warily entered the corridor towards him, he raised his left hand slowly, keeping the bandaged right hand tucked toward his body and away from her. She looked tousled, hot and dirty, like he did. Her pants were torn in several places, as if she'd fallen somewhere along the line. He could still see the red glow in her eyes - was it as strong as before? He couldn't tell. She still seemed very wired, and looked at him menacingly, ignoring the weapons. "Don't try anything. I'll kill you."
"I know you will, Kathryn", he said softly.
"REVEAL YOURSELF!!!" Up came her phaser again. Chakotay took a deep breath, knowing he had no guarantee that she would reason with him. (Offense is sometimes the best defense...)
At that, he quickly turned his bandaged hand and fired at her, but her heightened reactions were too fast. Instead of stunning her as he'd planned, the shot went slightly wide and knocked the tricorder out of her left hand. Janeway swore, peeled off a shot that sizzled over his head as he ducked, and dashed back out the way she had come. He let her go with a huge sigh of resignation, and leaned over to pick up her tricorder. It would never function again. He let it drop.
At least he had accomplished one thing - he'd changed the odds... They both were still armed - but now, only he would be able to track her exact position. Chakotay smiled grimly.
And another rustling voice - he strained to hear - emanating from nowhere and everywhere, said what sounded like: "Advantage to the male... another twenty thousand credits..."
Chakotay ignored it. His tricorder beeped as he studied the readout, watching Janeway flee. Now to catch himself a Captain.
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