Disclaimer: Star Trek, Star Trek Voyager, and the characters in this story are the property of Paramount.
Summary: An armed and dangerous Janeway plays games with Seven.
Warning: Violence, and liking it.
Note: "Going Postal".
I love this expression. I also like the thought of an armedand dangerous
Janeway playing games with Seven. As I indicated in a previous post, a
big thanks to Rude Person for the idea of Janeway and plasma rifles.
It works for me. <g> No real sex, so a big [R], but not quite [NC17].
A bit of stress relief for someone who needs it.
By Robin Lawrie
'Captain, what are you doing?'
'Oh, just shooting things.'
'Because I can.'
Seven walked away from the holodeck arch towards the railing of the elevated platform and stared down into the dense undergrowth. The arch disappeared.
'I can't see anything.'
'Patience, Seven. If it was target practice, I'd be on a rifle range. Come over here. Look.' Janeway held out her arm and drew Seven close, pointing down at a large tree stump to which a small white goat was tethered.
'You're shooting at a goat?'
'No. I'm shooting at what eats goats.'
'So you wait until it attacks and feasts on the prey and then you shoot it.' Seven nodded approvingly.
'Not quite. I shoot it before it attacks. I lose if the goat dies.' Janeway looked at Seven, standing so close that the smell of her hair and the unique scent of her skin played havoc with her senses. She ran a hand down the small of her back, leaving it rest atop one buttock. Seven's eyes scanned the jungle, watching for every movement of every leaf, disregarding Janeway's grip.
The Captain murmured. 'Seven? Do you trust me?'
The borg flashed a quick glance at the captain. 'Yes Captain. You know I do.'
Janeway fingered the small hole at the tip of her rifle. 'Good. Then let's play a little game.'
The soft leaf litter and still damp earth underfoot muffled their steps and seemed to exhude humidity and a musty, decayed smell. It was a good program; Janeway had worked on it for months. The details made it very real. The tree stump had an old iron ring bolted to it, to which was attached a short length of thin chain.
'Computer. Delete the goat.' The goat vanished.
Seven took a deep breath, and clenched her fists nervously behind Janeway's back as the captain fiddled with the lock and fastenings.
'Captain, I will stand there if you ask me to. There is no need for the chain.'
'Wrist or ankle?' Janeway ignored Seven and measured the borgs wrist with a thumb and forefinger and adjusted the chain. 'Wrist, I think's best.'
'This beast, is it very dangerous?'
'Hmmm? Oh yes. Very dangerous. Lots of teeth, claws, muscles, that kind of thing.' The lock snapped shut, the chain clinked.
'Captain? You can, um...?'
'Shoot?' Janeway's eyebrows shot up. 'Dear Seven, I thought you trusted me. Very well, watch this.' Janeway checked her weapon, worked the bolt, shouldered it, wrapping the strap around her arm for support and flicked off the safety. 'Computer. Release one pheasant, random location, approx. 20m altitude. Pull!'
A flutter of wings behind and to her left. Janeway spun and shot in one action, neatly decapitating the bird, its body continuing to spin back into the canopy.
'Good. We don't want you worried unnecessarily, do we?' Janeway waved a tricorder over Seven, and sent the results to the computer. 'I'm incorporating your scent into the beast's program. I'm letting it know what's prey...' she smiled, '...and what's not. Right. That will do. I'll be off, and leave you to it then.' The captain broke her rifle, hooked it over one arm and headed for the platform.
Seven felt the weight of the chain on her wrist, the soft shifting leaves underfoot, and sudden tightness in her throat and chest. Was this fear?
'I trust you.'
From her vantage point, Janeway had a clear view of Seven and the surrounding jungle. The borg looked small and white, and despite the differences in shape and size, reminded Janeway very much of the tethered goat. The common thread was fear. She pulled up a sawn off log seat and opened a hip flask. Time to play.
'Computer, enable sound file jungle001.' she whispered.
The sound of cicadas, exotic birds and the occasional screeching ape filled the clearing. Janeway sipped, nodded and watched, her hand resting on the cold steel of her gun barrel. She let a few minutes pass.
'Computer, enable sound file beast010.'
Amidst the background jungle chatter, a low bass growl rolled over and under coming from no obvious direction. Seven whirled around, her chain pulling up sharp, jerking her wrist. Yep, that's gotta hurt, thought Janeway. The borg glanced anxiously towards the platform. Janeway kept out of sight, sipping her scotch, stroking the blued metal, her fingers running over the carved wooden stock. Soon.
'Computer. Light breeze, from the south west. 3-4 knots.'
The tops of the liana clad emergents swayed and rustled, sending a scattering of leaves and water droplets from an afternoon shower cascading into the clearing. Seven wiped a sweaty hand across her forehead, leaving a dark smear of sweat and dirt. Janeway smiled and raised her rifle. She looks a little nervous. Good. Let's not fix that. The captain took aim at a large leaf to the right and behind the tethered quarry. She leaned into the stock and squeezed off a shot.
The leaf exploded as the bullet hit the branch behind it, sending splinters flying. Seven ducked behind her stump, her arm pulled tight against it by the sturdy chain.
'Computer. Enable sound file beast002.'
The low growling breaths now came from Seven's left. The borg swung round the other side of the stump, again pulling her wrist. Janeway looked closely. Yes, that could be blood. The poor dear. The sweet smell of gunfire wafted across the platform. Janeway licked her lips, and wiped a damp palm across her thigh. She rested the barrel on the rough wooden railing, and reached for the telescopic site, clipping it carefully into place and adjusting the cross hairs. When she looked through it, she could clearly see the torn and bruised flesh around Seven's white wrist. A deep breath turned into a low growl in Janeway's throat. Still holding the rifle with one hand, to look through the sites, she slipped the other between her thighs, running a thumb hard across the soft flesh and pinching it.
'Scared, Seven?' She murmured into the well oiled breach. You should be.'
Seven relaxed a little, peering around the stump, head turning at every noise. The gunshot had frightened her, and her wrist was aching. She tried holding the chain, but her sweaty hands made it very slippery. The beast must be close; the captain had fired once already; maybe scaring it off. But it would be back.
'Computer. Disable holodeck safeties. Authorisation Janeway sigma alpha four seven.' she called in a loud voice.
With calm deliberation, Janeway took aim 20m from Seven and began firing into the jungle. With every shot, she moved her aim closer, letting Seven see the progressive trail, and letting her work out for herself just where that trail would end. By the time Janeway's firing had reached her stump, Seven was at full stretch at the end of her chain, pulling and tugging at her wrist, her heels digging into the soft forest floor. Then the firing stopped.
'Computer. End sound file jungle001, beast010 and beast 002. Enable prey003.' she whispered.
The silence sat heavy on the rank and humid forest. Seven stared upwards, pleading silently with her eyes, and trying to scan the green tangle around her as well. She cradled her injured arm, and sunk slowly onto the cool brown leaves, her head bowed. And waited.
'I think I scared it off.' Janeway stood at the edge of the clearing, her rifle gripped casually in one hand.
'Captain! I thought... wasn't it.. I mean, were you, shooting at me?'
Janeway shook her head sadly. 'Seven. Trust me.' She raised her rifle and took aim. For the borg.
The chain pinged and snapped, the links breaking close to the stump leaving a short length of chain still attached to Seven's bleeding wrist. Seven looked at the limp chain and back at Janeway.
'I'm sorry. I thought you were going to shoot me.'
'Yes. You did think that.' Janeway reloaded. And shouldered her weapon. And took aim. And wrapped a steady finger around the trigger. 'And I thought you trusted me.'
Seven raised her head and waited, her hands rested open against her thighs. She closed her eyes. 'I do.'
It was a clean shot. The prey fell quickly and heavily onto the soft earth. The head wound bled slowly into the glassy, beautiful eyes. The heaving chest stilled after only a few final breaths. Janeway lowered her weapon, still feeling the rush, the thrill, the orgasm that always ripped through her after a clean kill. She remembered to breath again, and smiled. She took the few steps to where Seven lay, and reached a hand down to stroke the soft fine hair on the back of her neck.
'See? Trust is a wonderful thing. Thank you Seven. You did very well.'
Seven raised her head and looked up into Janeway's eyes. Then turned slowly to look behind her at the bared fangs, the huge claws and the shattered head of the tiger.
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