Part 1

The Moderator stood before his captives and inspected them closely. The only sounds in the cell were the occupants breathing and the quiet hum emanating from the energy packs powering the compression rifles aimed at the prisoners' heads. They had been held for some time now and he had been carefully scrutinising them ever since their arrival from the town centre. He now felt that he knew enough about them to take their interaction to the next level.

He met three pairs of eyes gazing defiantly back at him, but still remained taciturn until he completed his scrutiny. He felt safe to approach and study them as six uniformed guards flanked the prisoners, their royal blue body suits contrasting starkly with their ashen faces and flaxen hair. As he finished his circuit, the tall man fixed his stare at one person.

"You are the leader," he told her confidently. The steel-grey eyes he looked at returned the glare but her face remained impassive. The auburn-haired woman decided not to answer his statement but he could tell by the nervous adjustment of her mauve jacket collar with her cuffed hands that she was not as calm as she wanted to project.

"I know you are the leader of this group. Your allegiance is obvious by the badges we found on you," he opened his gloved hand as he spoke, displaying one of the gold emblems like a trophy. His fist clenched round it suddenly as he continued. "In the time we left you alone in this cell, we have been monitoring your conversation and actions. While you have been extremely professional in guarding your words, you have been less guarded in your gestures." He took the time now to look at all three captives before returning his gaze to the red-haired older woman. "I never make the assumption of age indicating seniority but in this case, it is correct." He made a sweeping gesture towards the two other prisoners. "Whenever there is any sort of decision to be made, or guidance, their eyes look to you. They wait for you to take the lead and you are comfortable in that role."

He approached the seated woman and lowered his head till they came face-to-face, his long blond mane falling forward slightly. "So shall we stop any charade you wish to perform and get to business?" he asked her, his baritone voice deceptively mild as his navy eyes locked with hers once again.

"I have no business with you," Janeway replied, flinching slightly at the malodorous breath he shared with her.

"Oh but you do," disagreed the Moderator as he stood once again to his full height. His dark green jacket creaked as he straightened, perhaps indicating that it was some form of armour. "Our technology may not be as sophisticated as yours, but it is sufficient to detect the space ship that is currently orbiting the planet. Your people are reluctant to leave you behind. That indicates your importance on board your vessel. I believe that we have room to make negotiations," his thin-lipped smile was almost predatory.

"Not everyone assesses value using your misguided concepts," snapped the raven-haired captive from the corner of the cell, earning a fierce glare from Janeway.

The Moderator turned to face her, allowing his eyes to rake in her exotic beauty but Torres remained defiant, determined not to display any discomfort from the open appraisal.

"You're quite right," he concurred softly. "Which is why I have the advantage in our bargaining."

"And what exactly are you wanting to trade?" Janeway asked, diverting the attention back toward her. She was extremely concerned at the way all the guards had been assessing B'Elanna.

"I need your technology," replied the Moderator succinctly. "An upgrade in my energy converters, new weapons and advanced sensor arrays." He stepped toward the older woman once more. "It's not too much to ask is it?" he suggested lightly, "in return for three valued crew," he expanded.

Janeway's eyes flitted round the room. She realised that she was not in a strong negotiating position. Her hopes lay with Chakotay and the crew of Voyager. However, she would be damned if she would acquiesce and surrender any technology to this bully.

"I'm sorry but there's no deal," she stated with finality.

The Moderator sighed and he rubbed a large hand across the three small brown horns that rose from his forehead. "How predictable," he remarked.

"Then why ask the question?" pointed out the last prisoner, her golden hair tied up in a rigid hairstyle.

The tall alien fixed his gaze at the woman, scrutinizing the metallic adornments on her face before he answered. "Because you may have surprised me and agreed without me having to," he paused for a moment, pulling his face into a delicate moue of feigned distaste as he searched for the right words, "coerce an arrangement with you."

"If you've studied us for long enough, you'll know that coercion won't work," Janeway pointed out, keeping her voice deliberately flat.

"There is always a first time," demurred the blond interrogator. "I take pride in my work. To come to an agreement, the weaknesses have to be exploited."

Janeway shifted slightly. She did not like the way this conversation was going. "I can tell you now that it doesn't matter what you do, I am not giving you technology," she stated firmly.

The Moderator approached Janeway and sat down right next to her, looking at Seven and B'Elanna in turn. His face remained looking ahead as he spoke, as if he didn't need to see the reaction from Janeway. "I know that if I try to persuade you, I will be wasting my time. You've just told me how committed you are to that, so I have no intention of expending unnecessary effort," he told her conversationally. "However, I think your values," here he pinned B'Elanna with a stare, "can be exploited." He got up and approached the half-Klingon. "I've looked at your body chemistry. You have secondary organ systems, dense musculature and heavy bones," he told her as he brought his face in close to hers. B'Elanna fought to keep her expressive face under control and stared through her tormentor rather than at him.

"You are also extremely beautiful," he continued, lowering his voice to barely a whisper. "It would be a shame to see such beauty permanently marred." With that he ran the flat of his tongue up the side of the engineer's cheek slowly.

B'Elanna's fists clenched convulsively in their restraints but before she raised them, she felt the muzzle of a rifle dig into her temple. Swallowing down the bile, she forced herself to remain passive, though she was unable to mask the anger now blazing in her eyes.

Seven felt no such compunction for control. Lightning-fast, she grabbed the compression rifle aimed at her head and yanked its owner off his feet. She twirled the now free rifle in her hands and raised it toward the Moderator with every intention of using it as a club to beat the sadistic smile off his face. She hesitated though, as she realised that there were now several rifles aimed at her as well as the Captain and Torres.

The Moderator looked at her calmly. "You may have the satisfaction of maiming or even killing me, but do you want the deaths of your companions on your conscience?" he asked.

"Put the gun down Seven," requested Janeway. The blonde ex-drone stared disbelievingly at the Captain for a moment before switching her gaze to B'Elanna. The dark engineer shook her head minutely, indicating that Seven should back down. Realising that the odds were stacked against her, Seven complied reluctantly. The gun was snatched from her hands and she was pushed roughly down to sit where she had been before. At a silent signal, one of the guards grabbed her manacles and raised her arms above her head, securing the bands to a fixing on the wall. Its height was such that Seven's arms were stretched taut yet she gave no indication that she was in any discomfort. The thick, dark-red shirt she was wearing was pulled free from the waistband of her black trousers and the shirt swayed gently round her frame. Seven's eyes never left B'Elanna, her concern displayed across her visage.

"Now where was I?" the interrogator shook his long blond mane distractedly. "Ah yes," he crowed as he remembered. "I wonder how long it will take to break you?" he mused as he assessed Janeway. "How much will you allow me to do to your colleague? With such a strong specimen for interview, I feel that my skills will at long last get the canvas they so crave," he continued, returning his stare to Torres.

"Leave her alone," growled Janeway.

"What - take you in her place? I believe I've already covered that argument," retorted her captor. "Or are you prepared to negotiate already?"

"If it's a strong specimen you want then I suggest you try your skills on me," interjected Seven, feeling her heart hammer in her chest. Despite his mild demeanour, he was obviously intent on harming B'Elanna, and enjoying it into the bargain. Seven did not feel comfortable with the situation.

B'Elanna shot the Astrometrics Officer a look of surprise. She had expected Janeway to try and take her place but not Seven.

"You're part machine," objected the Moderator distastefully. "Your machinery will interfere with some aspects of my work, and I will be forced to deactivate it, leaving the same weak human shell as your leader here." He gestured with his head toward the Captain. "This one however," and he ran his finger along B'Elanna's jawline, enjoying the touch as well as the trembling sensation he was eliciting from her, "will be the perfect subject."

"No!" exclaimed Janeway, and she stood reflexively, wincing as the nose of a rifle nudged into her right temple. Inside she was panicking, but she'd be damned if she would let that show.

"Then give me what I want," suggested the Moderator softly, his smile revealing an even row of small sharp white teeth.

"I can't. It's against our principles," Janeway began to explain, but was waved to silence.

"I want no excuses. I want your technology," the Moderator told Janeway firmly, the time for negotiation over. He nodded at the guards standing at the cell door. They moved aside as the two guards flanking B'Elanna grabbed her roughly under each arm, hoisting her to her feet.

B'Elanna tensed and instinctively tried to shake off their grip but the guards stepped in closer, one of them smiling as he waved his gun in her face. Knowing that resistance could cost the Captain and Seven their lives as well as her own, she stood fast but remained tense. At least they wouldn't be tortured; not until she was no longer worth torturing anyway. If she could hold out long enough, perhaps Voyager could find a way of freeing them before the interrogation moved on to Seven, for she knew that the Moderator would not touch Janeway until all his levers had expired. She had survived Cardassian interrogation. She would survive this. She had to in order to protect Seven.

"Captain," hissed Seven pleadingly, her eyes filled with worry as she stared at B'Elanna.

"I will not be held to ransom over this," replied Janeway tersely. Inside, she was in turmoil, genuinely frightened over what was going to happen to B'Elanna. She just hoped that the Engineer had spent enough time on Voyager to understand her actions.

The Moderator looked carefully at Janeway and Seven before silently approaching B'Elanna, who was still held between two guards. Suddenly, he reached out and yanked open the dark brown leather overshirt B'Elanna was wearing, revealing a soft white vest top underneath. He trailed one hand over the exposed material for a moment, barely touching the flesh underneath but his intent was blatant. He stared into the dark brown eyes that returned the glare steadily. He noted with satisfaction the tiny bead of sweat that trickled down the caramel cheek and forward onto her chin. It was indication enough that she was scared. He was going to enjoy this interaction.

Part 2

Chakotay slapped the data padd down heavily on the desk. He leant back in his chair and rubbed his face wearily. The reserved First Officer had lost count of how many times he had berated himself for allowing the Captain to head the mission but he did it once again. It didn't resolve anything, nor did it make him feel better, yet he continued to feel guilty over the whole episode. Chakotay allowed himself a moment to recall the events leading to their current predicament.

Nine days ago, after a power regulator failure, the Warp Core had suffered catastrophic damage. Since then, B'Elanna and her team had been working round the clock to deliver any sort of power to Voyager's engines. Many of the crew had been re-assigned to assist the department. One of the knock-on effects had been a gradual power drain from the rest of the ship's systems.

The biggest problem had been Voyager's location at the time of the failure. Scans indicated that they were in "Dead Space", an area barren of life and planets with such inhospitable atmospheres to make mining for the required elements and ores impossible, particularly considering how low they were on power. They limped through space for several days before Seven designed a long-distance probe that would not drain resources too heavily. Even B'Elanna had been impressed with the design and had personally assisted Seven with its construction and programming.

Chakotay had to smile at that. The two people least likely to get along on Voyager had worked together almost continually without so much as a raised voice. Perhaps if Voyager were in perpetual dire straits, the two women might just learn to like each other.

Seven's probe proved to be invaluable. It detected a small planetoid on the very edge of the system. It was populated, with a technology not too dissimilar to the Federation, though in many aspects it was not nearly so advanced. Amazingly, B'Elanna coaxed enough energy out of the reactors to get Voyager into a high orbit around the planet.

Unfortunately, when Captain Janeway tried to establish contact and a possible trade agreement, she was met with suspicion and thinly veiled hostility. Despite her best efforts, all attempts at negotiation were stonewalled. Frustrated, Janeway had ordered scans of the surface in order to glean as much information about the planet as possible.

After three days, Tuvok and his squad were confident enough to give a briefing on the population, their movements and general conditions planet-side. Janeway had then taken the initiative to lead an away team to the surface in order to see if they could covertly trade. Chakotay had argued with her bitterly over her insistence in going, as well as her selection of away team members. In taking Torres and Seven, she was depriving a crippled ship of the two people most likely to keep it going. The Native American was also concerned for the safety of Janeway. Tuvok had only gleaned a certain amount of information and the mission was overflowing with risk. The Captain was resolved in the matter though. After noting his objections, Janeway told him that her decision was final and Chakotay admitted defeat grudgingly. Along with Tuvok and Neelix, they had transported to a desolate location and hiked into the nearest populated town in order to begin bartering. Somewhere along the line, the team had been discovered and pursued.

Chakotay sighed. This was where the report got less clear. He needed to talk to Tuvok and Neelix in more detail to understand the nuances of what went wrong. Pushing his chair away from the desk, he strode from the Ready Room to the Bridge. He hardly broke stride for the doors to open and made his way directly to the Ops Station.

Kim looked up nervously as he approached, knowing that Chakotay would not like his report. However, at the tattooed man's nod, he spoke. "There is still no way to break through the shielding, Commander. The sensors can't even detect the planet, much less any life forms."

"We've got to find out how they managed to erect this screen, Harry," the First Officer reminded him needlessly.

"I know sir, but it was put in place without warning, almost instantaneously. Until we can break through to start deep scans, I can't even guess at the technology used to generate this sort of shielding." Harry ran a hand through his thick black hair as he spoke, giving indication of the tension he felt.

"Keep working on this, Mr Kim," instructed the older man. "At the moment, it's the only option we've got. I'll be in Sick Bay if you need me. You have the Bridge," he announced formally, before turning and heading toward the turbolift. Harry barely lifted his head in acknowledgement as he ran the next set of extrapolations through the console.

* * *

Seven scanned the room micron by micron, using every fibre of Borg technology she possessed.

The two women were held in a small, bland, grey cell that contained little else except three cots lined against the walls and what one could only loosely describe as toilet facilities. The room was completed with a solid door housing a small grill aperture, the light from which indicated that it was far better illuminated outside the cell than inside. The door was locked electronically and Seven could hear the gentle hum of a force field just the other side of it. Their captors were obviously not going to take any chances. The tall blonde woman could not detect any weakness in the walls or door. She was starting to experience feelings of helplessness. The most distressing factor was that B'Elanna had been removed from the cell with the obvious intention of doing her harm.

Seven ground her teeth angrily as she thought of the Moderator. She hoped fervently to meet the vile man on a more equal footing. The ex-drone would take great delight in snapping the vermin's neck.

"Please stop pacing, Seven," requested Janeway softly. "You're wasting energy."

"How can you sit there so calmly?" accused Seven, her voice hostile. "We must find a way of escape and help B'Elanna," she implored, her voice starting to sound desperate.

"Have you found a way out then?" asked the Captain calmly.

"No, I cannot find any flaws in the structure of this cell," the younger woman replied disconsolately.

"You told me that an hour ago. You will tell me the same thing in another hour if you start your examination again. Whilst appreciated, all you're doing is repeating a process you've already completed once," Janeway admonished gently.

"I need to do something," insisted the ex-drone vehemently. "I cannot bear the thought of B'Elanna being in danger."

Janeway caught the use of the engineer's first name and flicked her eyebrows up in surprise. Perhaps the two women had finally learnt to get along. "We can't do anything from here, Seven," Janeway reasoned. "There are two options as I see it," she continued, nodding approval as she saw Seven sit down and stare intently at her. "We can wait for Voyager to find a way to get to us..."

"A most frustrating option," demurred Seven.

"Or, we exploit any weakness we discover when they return B'Elanna to the cell."

"What makes you think B'Elanna will be returned?" asked Seven scornfully.

"The Moderator wants my co-operation. He aims to get it by using B'Elanna. I have to see the evidence of his 'intent'. That's how I know they'll bring back B'Elanna," reasoned the Captain. "I just hope he brings her back alive."

Seven's stomach lurched at Janeway's final statement. The Astrometrics officer had just started to build a rapport with the Chief Engineer. She had hoped to develop the friendship and perhaps spend off duty time with the dark-haired Klingon. Seven had finally come to realise that she had more in common with B'Elanna than she cared to admit. She was certain that the fiery engineer had come to the same conclusion. Seven had feelings for B'Elanna. She wanted the opportunity to explore those feelings and cement their friendship. B'Elanna was continually on the ex-drone's mind and the thought that she was being subjected to all sorts of torture and that Seven was powerless to come to her aid, hurt in a way she never imagined possible.

She clenched her fists before drawing her azure eyes up level with Janeway's. "He will be the next casualty if he does not," she warned coldly.

* * *

The Moderator was starting to get frustrated. He knew he had picked the right woman for him to practise his skills on. He knew from her body language that she felt fear. What he hadn't anticipated was the extent of her stubbornness.

For the last two hours, in a room adjacent to the holding cell where the other captives were located, the tall, blond interrogator had been honing his considerable talent. Using some of his most delicate techniques, the Moderator subjected the dark-haired woman to the most excruciating agony. His purpose was to elicit long, drawn-out sounds of agony from her. Once the leader heard the torment the woman was being put through, she would crumble and agree to his demands. Unfortunately, his subject was not making a sound.

At first, he had been excited by her refusal to give in to his skills. The defiance in her eyes had not wavered even when her visage reflected the agony she felt. As her non-compliance continued, he had felt himself get aroused by the situation. The Moderator had never before come across such determination and it was stimulating to have such a worthy challenge. He was now approaching the stage where he was in need of release. He knew it would be triggered by just one scream. He was on the very brink, hypersensitive to her every movement and gesture. The situation was starting to get uncomfortable for him. One shriek of pain was all he needed, but still she refused to utter a sound.

B'Elanna continued to focus her eyes at the drab grey wall opposite her. Every now and again, her mind would drift over her body to remind her of the pain she was continually feeling. The small Klingon had been strapped unceremoniously onto a reclining chair obviously constructed for the Moderator to practise his art, arms and legs stretched taut, her body exposed for his work. The wide leather bands had bitten into her wrists and ankles. The wounds had deepened as her limbs chafed against the restraints whilst she writhed at the torture she was being submitted to. The dark-haired woman could smell the blood that was running from the lacerations but she refused to look at them. The restraining measures included several razor-sharp blades laid gently over her splayed hands. Any reflexive clenching of her fists would result in torn flesh and more pain. Her kidneys felt pulverised after being subjected to continual electric shocks. Her redundant pair had taken over because of the injuries she had sustained.

Right from the start of the Moderator's torture, she had clamped down and refused to make a sound. The goading questions he asked were met with stony silence. Each filament of pain he added would elicit a flinch or a muted tight-lipped grunt but never a moan or scream. She saw the tall man become aroused as their interaction continued, yet refused even to acknowledge his existence when he repeated his action of licking her face slowly and stared blankly ahead when he kissed her lips harshly.

B'Elanna knew that he had the physical advantages over her. But if she could hold out, she might just tip the psychological scales in her favour. The Moderator's biggest mistake was to let it get personal. It was now imperative to him that he obtained results. His pride would not allow him to fail. This was the engineer's one small advantage. His pride was his weakness.

She grunted again as she felt a spear of white-hot energy rip through her lower abdomen but as before, she clamped down on any noise. B'Elanna understood right from the start that he was attempting to frighten Janeway into giving in to his demands. If the dark-haired engineer could do her part and remain quiet, at least her two colleagues would be spared the torment of listening to her. Unfortunately it would have the added effect of prolonging her agony but it felt like a small price to pay in order to prevent something similar happening to Seven. B'Elanna closed her eyes momentarily at the thought of the ex-drone. Up until the disaster with the warp core, she had barely spared the woman the time of day. Now, the beautiful Borg consumed the Klingon's thoughts. Co-operation and teamwork had brought them closer together and both had come to realise that they had more in common than they previously surmised. B'Elanna had come to enjoy every moment shared with Seven. She had hoped when this latest crisis was over, to spend some more time with her and strengthen the bond that had tentatively sprung between them during the last nine days. In more ways than one, she felt closer to the Astrometrics officer than she did to her own husband.

B'Elanna's eyes snapped open as she felt a stinging sensation whip across her cheek. She was just in time to see the tiny silver blade pass over her face and then realised that the warm trickling sensation she was now experiencing was blood seeping from a deep incision.

"Do you want me to mark you again?" The Moderator brought his head down low as he asked the question, eyes boring into B'Elanna's menacingly.

B'Elanna refused even to swallow and instead focused her eyes at some distant point, remembering the contours of the wall and convincing herself to see through him and at them.

As he stood upright once again, the Moderator allowed his body to brush the chair, groaning softly as his arousal stubbornly sought release. He thought about taking the woman and ending his frustration quickly in a show of power, but he knew that ultimately the satisfaction would turn sour. His assault would be a weak victory, hardly worthy of his opponent. Instead, he decided that he had inflicted enough on her for the moment. The anticipation of things to come might assist him in breaking her will.

The pale inquisitor nodded at the guards standing at the doorway. They entered on his signal and loosened the captive's bindings after carefully removing the extra blades that kept her hands splayed. They then pulled her upright and yanked her from the chair.

Against her will, B'Elanna felt her legs buckle and she collapsed on the floor despite her best effort to remain upright. She was exhausted and in pain but knew that in this first confrontation, she was the victor. However, the engineer had deep concerns over how much abuse she could withstand.

The Moderator approached her and held the engineer's chin roughly. "How much can you tolerate, my beauty? I thought I needed to break your leader's will but I can see I made an error in judgement. You'll be back here soon enough. I won't tell you when, I'll just surprise you. I hope you're looking forward to it." He smiled emotionlessly at her, before releasing her chin and stepping away.

"Take her back," he ordered. Only when the room was empty did he succumb to his frustration and release his arousal.

Parts 3 to 4