Pathways - Jeri Taylor [99]
The young woman pondered the question. “Maybe not,” she said slowly. “There are fights all the time here, squabbles over territory, people being displaced. It might work.”
“Let’s try it,” said Chakotay. “First we decide who goes and who stays.”
Everyone was willing to accept Chakotay’s decision on that matter, although Brad Harrison and his partner, Noah Mannick, asked to stay together, a request Chakotay was happy to accommodate. They had only recently become a couple and were still in the early flush of romantic intensity.
“All right, who fights?”
“Sign me up for that part,” said Tom, and B’Elanna smiled again. She understood his feelings. It felt good to be planning something, to be active, to take steps to be in control of their destiny once more. They spent over an hour planning tomorrow’s altercation, going over every detail until the plan was clear in everyone’s mind. That night she slept more soundly than she had for a long time.
Tom Paris, on the other hand, slept fitfully. He was eager for morning to arrive, to get this plan going. To do something. When gray dawn finally broke, he was up before the others, sipping on brackish—but necessary—water, nibbling some of last night’s rations that he’d saved for morning. Hunger was a constant now for all of them, and he believed it was important for them to start their escape plans sooner, rather than later. With so little food, they would gradually become weaker and more susceptible to disease and injury. And in a place like this, even a minor illness could be life-threatening, the slightest abrasion become infected and lead to death. Now was the time to act.
His impatience would help kindle the role he was to play in their carefully concocted drama. He allowed it to energize him, pacing nervously, driving fist into palm, talking to himself, until he felt a tensile strength forming deep inside, a coil of pure energy ready to burst forth.
He began kicking at the ground, muttering, tapping into old angers, remembering the rages and resentments of the past. Then he spotted Chakotay, seated on the ground and breaking off a portion of a grain cake he, too, had saved from the night before.
Tom marched over to him, stood above him, challenging. “I’m hungry,” he announced.
Chakotay looked up at him and shrugged. “Should’ve saved some for this morning,” he said quietly, and stuffed the chunk of foul mush in his mouth.
Tom’s arm snaked down and closed over Chakotay’s wrist, twisting it backward until the remainder of the grain cake could be pried loose. Then he quickly devoured it. Chakotay leapt to his feet. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he said bitterly, shoving at Tom’s chest. Tom swiped his hands away, and then they were into it, shoving and grappling, finally falling to the ground and rolling, punching, pounding on each other like crazed enemies.
The others were soon involved. Tuvok shouted at them to desist, but was ignored. Neelix began to exhort Tom, and Harry became outraged, and soon they were fighting, too. B’Elanna and Brad yelled at each other, prompting Noah to start berating B’Elanna, and before long the whole contingent was engaged in a melee that drew considerable attention from nearby prisoners. Only Tuvok and Vorik did not participate, and stood firmly, calling on their comrades to come to their senses, finally wading in and splitting up the combatants, chastising them, trying to restore order.
Tom kept one eye on the guards within the walls. They didn’t want to disrupt the camp to the point where the guards felt the need to emerge and incinerate them. Gradually, the fight abated, and as people withdrew, they did so in two distinct groups: one included Tom, B’Elanna, Neelix, and Seven; the second, facing them squarely, consisted of Chakotay, Harry, Coris, Brad, and Noah. Tuvok and Vorik, true to their Vulcan natures, were neutral.
“You try that again, you’ll have to go off and fend for yourself,” Chakotay began, but