Icestorm (part 6) written by Maddie Mumford

Note :
This story was originally printed in the 'We'll Always Have Paris', Vol. 2 fanzine available through Unicorn Press

Kes carefully rotated the pilot's chair until she had turned it 180 degrees, then she let out a sigh of relief.

"Merritt."

Melchor looked as surprised and relieved as she felt. His long features, so often solemn, broke into an infectious smile, that she found herself echoing. His hair and uniform were splattered with mud and his dark hair was tousled, but he seemed unharmed.

"I thought you were dead," he blurted.

"We thought you'd managed to get off the planet," Kes answered.

"I did."

Then Melchor stopped and looked around the cabin as though searching for something he had misplaced. His face darkened.

"Where's Paris? He was with you. Did he leave you alone out here--"

"No," Kes said quickly, "Not voluntarily at least."

She sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted. "He's been captured by the Kazon."

"Damn."

Melchor approached, holstering his phaser, and sliding into the co-pilot's seat. Kes leaned forward and covered his hand with hers.

"What happened?"

Melchor shook his head mournfully.

"The storm was coming faster than I expected. I hadn't gotten any answer from you or Paris. I didn't know if you had gotten my warning or not, but I figured you were caught in the storm as well. Then I got a call from Voyager. I could only make out one word."

"Kazon." Kes guessed.

Nodding, Melchor swallowed hard and continued. "I managed to get the shuttle off the ground and above the worst of the storm, but there was nothing I could do. There were three Kazon ships in orbit, and Voyager had been forced to retreat. I didn't think I could catch them without being detected by the Kazon, so I landed on the opposite side of the planet. After the storm broke I moved the shuttle here in short hops. When I got close enough to our original position I went out looking for you and Paris, and stumbled into the middle of a Kazon landing party. They didn't see me, but I couldn't get away from them without being detected. I've been holed up, hiding for most of the last twelve hours. And you, and Paris?"

Kes quickly filled him in on the events since the storm struck. "We have to help him," she ended.

Melchor's brows drew together, deep in troubled thought. "They seem to have set up camp a few kilometers from here, in the foothills of the mountains. The hillside is peppered with small caves. I heard them talking about it."

"Do you think they've taken Paris there?" Kes brightened, hoping the answer was positive.

Melchor shrugged. "I don't know. I only caught bits of conversation as they passed. Nothing was said about a human. They seemed more concerned with gathering fresh food. They might have taken him to one of their ships. If he's even alive."

"We have to find out. Get close enough to the camp to scan the area without being detected."

"I agree, but we should wait until they settle for the night. There will be less chance of being detected then."

Kes started to protest, to emphasize the need to rescue Paris from the Kazon as soon as possible, and he seemed to anticipate her objection, silencing her with a wave of his hand.

"You don't look like you are in any condition to help anyone," he said firmly. "Neither of us are. I know you don't want to leave Paris in Kazon hands, but if he isn't dead yet, I don't think he will be in the next few hours. You need rest, so do I, or we won't accomplish anything. In five hours it will be dark, another five hours after that, and they will all be asleep except for perimeter guards. I learned that much while I was eavesdropping. They aren't expecting us, so the guard will probably be light. We have to rely on stealth."

There was little Kes could do in the face of his all too rational logic.

"All right. But no more than ten hours."

"Okay," Melchor said. "After we've both had some time to rest and some food, we'll do this."

And he proceeded to outline a plan.

The darkness, satin rich and humming with subdued life, surrounded her as she crouched behind a small outcropping of rock and tried very hard to be patient. The brilliant midday sun had baked the last chill from her body. The air had once again warmed, until the ice storm of the day before seemed little more than a distant memory, and now the evening coolness was a welcome change. She still wore the gray pullover Paris had wrapped her in, not for warmth now, but to ward off the swarms of biting insects and to remind her, she could not relax until he too was safe. She and Melchor had spent the afternoon attempting to rest and waiting impatiently for nightfall. Despite her physical ordeal, she found it impossible to sleep for more than a short period. Dreams haunted her, taunting her with memories of how the Kazon had treated her, and what they might well be doing to Paris. Each nightmare brought her to full wakefulness, her heart pounding in panic, and left her feeling more exhausted than before she had slept, until she had given up any hope of sleep. She had been grateful to finally set out toward the Kazon encampment, but now she found herself waiting again.
Kes peered into the darkness, straining her senses to catch the slightest hint of where he might be held, if he were even on the planet's surface. Beside her, Melchor crouched, effortlessly balanced on the balls of his feet as though prepared to spring, his long face a blur in the darkness. And Kes was puzzled. Her initial reaction upon seeing him in the shuttle craft had been one of tremendous relief. His presence meant yet another chance that one of them would survive to return to Voyager, and increased the chance of rescuing Paris. She admitted to herself, now, that she was pleasantly surprised that Melchor had so openly accepted her decision to locate and seek the release of Voyager's helmsman. Based on his earlier response to Paris, Kes had been certain that she would have to persuade Melchor to assist her, but instead he had proved willing and even eager to do his share. It embarrassed her to think she had so obviously misjudged him, yet Paris had voiced a similar interpretation of Melchor's behavior. That did not matter, she told herself. The important thing was they were working together. With any luck Paris would soon be free.
Huddled together near the Kazon camp, they stared into the darkness, trying to find some clue to the Human's whereabouts. Scanning the network of shallow caverns had proven difficult. The composition of the rocks was heavily metallic, and strongly polarized, causing distortions in their tricorder readings. It seemed easier to simply watch, wait and hope they would pick up some clue to his whereabouts. She fidgeted, anxious to move, to do something. She was a patient person, but in her short life she had discovered she was not content to simply wait for events to occur. She wanted to *make * things happen. Not an Ocampa trait, but perhaps something learned from her new friends. A touch on her arm, brought her attention back to the present. Melchor released her arm and held up his hand, pointing silently toward the far side of the encampment, then nodded and grinned briefly.
Kes nodded back. She understood.
They would have to wait longer, until activity in the camp had slowed. Then they would have to work their way around the perimeter to the far side. It would be a few more hours and she did not like it, but she had little choice.
Finally, Melchor signaled it was time to move. Checking the medical kit strapped to her side, Kes unholstered the phaser Melchor had given her, and followed his lead into the darkened wood. They moved cautiously in a broad circle to the far side of the rocky hillside, being careful to make no noise that would arouse the Kazon. Melchor had assured her that there were no electronic perimeter alarms around this encampment. Apparently the Kazon were confident that they had chased off the alien interlopers, and were alone.
After what seemed like endless hours of skulking in the darkness, they emerged several feet from the edge of the clearing. There were three small caves facing them. In front of one sat a young Kazon male, a warrior, but barely into adolescence. Melchor nodded to Kes then positioned himself. They had one opportunity. They had to remove the guard, without making a sound. As Kes waited, Melchor watched. In the split second the young Kazon turned his head away from them, Melchor launched himself forward, taking the guard down. There was a brief soundless struggle, that stretched into a surreal slow-motion dance, before Melchor stood, and signaled her to follow. She glanced at her chronometer. It had taken only seconds. Slipping from the shadows, Kes raced across the open area between the cave and the wood line, and slipped into the darkened depression in the hillside. Melchor had propped the unconscious Kazon against the outside of the opening, to divert any of his curious, or sleepless companions, then positioned himself just inside.

"This cave isn't very deep. There's a sharp bend ahead. I can't get a clear reading, but I think Paris is here. Take the tricorder. I'll guard the opening."

Kes nodded, her throat tightening with nervous anticipation, as she stepped carefully into the darkness. The tunnel was not wide, the walls and floor rough with tumbled stone. Darkness closed around her in a solid wall as she moved away from the mouth, as quickly as the uneven footing allowed, until she was far enough around the curved tunnel to block her line of sight from the opening, then she carefully switched on her hand light, shielding the beam and keeping it at lowest intensity. She heard a muffled sound ahead and her heart leapt. Around the next turn the tunnel opened into a small, cell like cavern, her lantern barely illuminated the area, but its feeble light was enough.

"Tom," Kes whispered, as she moved forward.

Huddled against the far wall knelt a dark figure, almost invisible in the blackness, the light from her lantern catching the barest glimmer of fair hair. He was slumped forward, held at an odd angle, and as she approached he stirred and looked up, blinking in the dim, but unaccustomed light. "Tom," she whispered again.

"Kes," there was disbelief in his voice, and something else. "Damn, I'd hoped you'd gotten away."

"I did, we've come to get you out of here."

Paris shook his head. "No." The single word was a parched whisper.

"Yes, I can."

"No."

It was then Kes realized why the angle of his body had seemed so unnatural. On his knees, he leaned backward against a rough beam set in the floor of the cave, his arms wrapped around the beam, and his hands were tied behind it. He could not stand until his hands were freed.

"Let me get your hands untied."

Kes slipped behind him. He grunted, when she bumped into his arms.

"Kes, just go. Go now." There was desperate urgency in his voice.

"I'm *not* leaving you here." Kes answered with equal firmness. "As soon as I untie you, we can get you back to the shuttle."

"NO!" Paris' voice was almost a shout. "Kes, you don't understand--"

"I understand all too well," she interrupted. "I won't leave you here with the Kazon. Melchor is guarding the cave mouth. We don't have much time."

"You have *no* time, Kes," Paris' voice edged with urgency. "Melchor is working with the Kazon. He's with them."

"He's right, Kes."

Kes turned as the darkness flared into brilliant light. Melchor stood where the tunnel widened into the small cell, a torch held in one hand, phaser in the other, the Kazon youth he'd pretended to knock out, standing by his side, weapon at ready.

"And now I have you both."