Star Trek Voyager: The Loving Game

Star Trek Voyager: The Loving Game (Chapter 3)

The barrel of the twentieth century firearm was still directed at Seven’s face, the woman wielding the weapon wore an expression as chillingly cold as the metal of the gun itself, Seven could see that the hologram that possessed the Captain’s body hated her as her finger visibly increased pressure on the trigger and yet Seven was frozen to the spot, utterly unable to move. Please come back Captain, she mentally pleaded, that won’t do you any good, her mind reminded her, run!

Just as she was about to act on this thought, the Captain’s hand suddenly wavered and dropped slightly, her empty hand clasping her lowered head as she groaned in pain. Hope filled Seven but apprehension tempered her impulse to say anything and she remained where she was, still wary of the gun. Then the Captain’s eyes looked up at her, suddenly foggy with confusion and lingering pain. “Seven?” she asked in bemusement as she took in her protégé’s fearful body language, the unfamiliar surroundings and the old gun in her hand.

If Seven was anyone else she probably would have cried out in relief but as it was her shoulders dropped as she relaxed and she gave the Captain her customary inclination of the head and greeting, “Captain.”

Charles ran into St Clare’s city square, in his place at the head of his unit. As he shot a Nazi coming at him from his right he saw a large cream building he recognised from Annette’s eerily accurate recognisance drawings as Nazi headquarters. Motioning to the column behind to set down the heavy artillery he then saw a dark skinned man retreating back, rifle skilfully pointed at the rapidly encroaching Nazi soldiers, Charles’ memory suddenly kicked in to tell him that this was the bartender from La Coeur de Lion and almost certainly a member of Annette’s resistance cell. His eyes scanned the area for her in a moment of unprofessional desperation but she wasn’t there. As the bartender fell back even further Charles took the initiative and seized his shoulder. “Need some help?” He shouted over the din of the shellfire. The man whirled round, relief passing over his face for a spilt second at the sight of his American uniform before he nodded with surprising impassivity. Hurriedly extending his hand Charles introduced himself, “Captain Miller, 5th Armoured Infantry Division.”

The man gripped his had and looked directly into his face before saying with no trace of irony, “Welcome to St Clare.”

Thankfully Seven had just finished her concise explanation of the situation when the building gave a sinister shudder and an unbelievably loud bang rang in their ears. The Captain looked at her anxiously, “Didn’t you say this building was Nazi Headquarters?”

“Yes.” Seven replied.

“Then it would stand to reason this building’s being targeted, let’s get out of here!” Seven didn’t need to be told twice and they made their escape at a run, only just making it out onto the street as the building exploded, blasting into their backs and sending them both flying to the ground.

Charles felt relief at the building’s destruction turn into complete shock as his unbelieving eyes registered the huge gaping gash it left, seemingly even searching up to the sky, though that was impossible. He could see that its strange grey and silver contents stretched as far as the eye could see. “What the hell is that? Some sort of Nazi bunker?” he asked out loud.

“It would appear so.” The Resistance’s man replied in awe.

Charles grabbed his radio. “I need to call military intelligence…” All the radio gave him was static.

“We can use the radio at La Coeur de Lion.”

Charles glanced at the stranger and then back at the bunker, “Okay, thanks.” He looked back to his men, rapidly being overrun. “Fall back, follow me!” he ordered in a yell.