By Morticia

Part 3

Pairing C/P  C/others

NC-17, and some rather unpleasant imagery

Set shortly after the Jonas incident.

Archive: Cha-club, TPDorm, and Paris Nights only.

Disclaimer:  The boyz don't belong to me (all hail mighty paramount) but this story does!

Hostage by Morticia

Chakotay was woken by a cold dash of wine in his face. He spluttered and looked into the smug grin of the Captain. He looked with loathing at the handsome features of the cannibal and felt his stomach roil as memory of the Kítechís corpse washed over him again. He wasnít sure whether it was the wine or tears that stung his eyes but he staggered back to his feet and glared at the alien Captain.

Tate was curled in a miserable ball at his feet. He could see a red chafed swelling around the boyís collar and he realised his faint must have pulled the Kítech down with him. The boy seemed unwilling to risk standing again until ordered, so Chakotay ignored him for the moment and turned his furious eyes back to the Captain. To his astonishment the Captain immediately roared with laughter.

"You should see the look on your face!" the Bírechíkian sniggered and the table behind them resounded with equal mirth.

Chakotay spun in outraged bewilderment. The entire crew were almost hysterical with laughter and it all was undoubtedly at his expense. For a moment Chakotay wondered whether he had been set up, shown a holographic corpse in some sick joke, but then one of the crewmembers speared himself another chunk of the greasy white meat and took a bite. He made a point of chewing rapturously and then he gave Chakotay a sly wink.

Chakotayís stomach turned over and only he fact that he hadnít eaten at all that day stopped him from vomiting on the spot, but his mouth filled with the acrid taste of his own bile and he visibly gagged.

"Here!" The Captain said, his laughter replaced with a small measure of concern as his hostageís bronze skin turned a distressing shade of green. He snatched a fresh goblet from the table and thrust it in Chakotayís hands. Without thinking, Chakotay gulped a mouthful of the tart wine and as it washed through him he shuddered and felt a little self-control return.

He remembered his earlier resolve to help the Kítech and the idea of Tate, Wi or Skan ever ending up on a dinner table like that simultaneously made his knees buckle and his resolve strengthen. He realised he had to pull himself together.

It was obvious from the crewís reactions that they had expected him to be horrified and found it amusing rather than offensive. That made sense, he realised. He wasnít the first outsider in their ranks and it was likely that all their previous hostages had reacted with similar horror.  He suspected that the scene had been played for maximum impact and he turned accusingly to the Bírechík Captain.

"I am glad I have provided you with tonightís entertainment." He said coolly

The Captain guffawed and slapped him across the back in a comradely fashion. Chakotayís skin crawled at the physical contact but he remained outwardly calm.

"It is always best to be upfront, Chakotay." The Captain replied with amusement "We have found in the past that our new crew members have become needlessly distressed when they have discovered what they have been eating after the event. We understand that you are a barbarian and have convoluted ideas of right and wrong. We are simply endeavouring to help you understand your new way of life."

"I take it, then, that dinner is not usually served in this grotesque manner?" Chakotay replied tightly

"My, you are a cool one, arenít you?" The alien said with amused respect. He began to usher Chakotay down the table. Tate quickly scrambled to his feet as his chain was yanked and he trotted to catch up.

The Captain gestured significantly to the empty chair next to his own and then sat himself down. Chakotay reluctantly complied with the silent command and Tate slithered to his knees next to his chair and leant against his legs like an obedient dog. Chakotay found himself absently petting the boyís head as he carefully chose his next words.

"I have a question if I may, Captain."

The Captain gave him an interested look. He had never met an alien barbarian with as much quiet dignity as this Chakotay. Despite his faint, Chakotayís reactions so far had been disappointingly calm. He had expected the man to retch all over the place and scream blue murder. It was the way all of the previous hostages had reacted at first. Apart from his quiet faint and the flashing fury in his brown eyes, Chakotay had provided no entertainment for the crew after all.

It intrigued him so he gestured expansively:

"We are off duty, you may call me Ikton, and you may ask ANY question although I may of course decline to answer." He said

"How many Kítech does each of the crew have as attendants?" Chakotay asked him in a deceptively mild voice

Ikton looked at him and frowned in surprise but he answered the strange question regardless.

"The crew all have one personal Kítech. Officers have two. Senior Officers have three."

"I have three?" Chakotay queried

 Hostages are given three in acknowledgement of their previous rank and our hope that they will become equally useful members of Bírechík society."

 I see." Chakotay said, making a show of visibly relaxing. He took a long draught of his wine and sat back in his chair, stretching his legs out comfortably.

Ikton was unsettled by his hostageís peculiar behaviour.

"WHAT do you see?" He demanded petulantly.

Chakotay turned to him and gave a vicious grin:

"You set me up. You deliberately provided a fourth Kítech. Made sure that I rejected him. Killed him and then displayed him like a prime roast here as a further Ďlessoní."

Ikton raised his eyebrows in surprise at his captiveís astuteness

"I SAID you were a clever little barbarian. Youíre right. We donít usually serve Kítech in such a manner. Even Bírechík prefer not to think about the meat they eat. Hypocrisy of course, but then again it can be a little unsettling to eat an animal you have become fond of."

"You said you had barely enough to last. Does that mean you are intending to eat ALL of the Kítech before we arrive at Bírechíknar?" Chakotay asked with studied indifference, but secretly his hand squeezed Tate comfortingly on the shoulder as he felt the boy tremble at his question.

Ikton laughed. "Of course not. I only said it for effect. Personal Kítech are only eaten if they are put down for other reasons. We have a supply of meat Kítech also. To be honest, by the time a Kítech is old enough to be much use in the bedroom, their meat is too tough and stringy to enjoy. Most of the meat Kítech are far younger and more succulent.  Although we obviously never waste good food, especially on a long journey."

"Iím sure youíre right," Chakotay replied, his face set in a mask of serenity, "Although Iíll have to take your word for it."

"Iím afraid not. Unless you want to live on bread and fruit. There is no other meat on board." Ikton said firmly.

Chakotay shrugged. "Iím a vegetarian. Itís my religion. I donít eat meat. Ever."

"Oddly enough, thatís what my last Hostage said but when he got hungry enough, he had a change of heart." Ikton mocked. "No matter, no one will force you, Chakotay. Tonight was not about making you eat, it was about teaching you responsibility."

"To my Kítech."

"Exactly." Ikton said, gratified by Chakotayís quick understanding.

"So if I fail to please you, they end up here."

"Put it this way, Chakotay, if you are a Senior Officer you keep all three. If you prove less useful and can only act as an officer, you keep two and as a crew member you only get one."

 "And should I fail to co-operate at all?"

 "Then you will be kept as a prisoner instead and all three of your Kítech will be put back in the pen with the other meat Kítech. Thatís where they were before you came on board. They are undoubtedly extremely grateful for this chance to survive the journey. Our current crew have sufficient attendants and we never waste food."

 "So I have no choice." Chakotay said, unable to hide his bitterness.

Ikton grinned. "It is so nice to have an intelligent recruit. I see that you have already become fond of them. It would be a shame if they ended up on a table. You have a responsibility to them now, especially since you gave them names."

Chakotay flinched at the confirmation that he was being watched in his quarters.

"Is that a problem?" He asked

"Itís certainly UNUSUAL," Ikton replied genially "They arenít pets. They are Kítech. Do your people name meat animals?"

"My people are vegetarian, as I told you." Chakotay replied "But the people I know who eat meat, donít eat other people."

Ikton glared at him. "They may LOOK human, but they are just animals." He hissed

Chakotay blinked in surprise. He had been aware since his arrival that there must be a ship wide universal translator since he had experienced no language difficulties despite the confiscation of his own translator. However, the term human appeared incongruous.

"Human?" He queried

"It is our term for people." Ikton explained, equally confused by Chakotayís question. "It is strange that you understand our language so well but not that term."

"I do, I merely thought it strange that the translator would use it."

"What translator?" Ikton asked in genuine puzzlement

Chakotay felt the world shake a little around him as he absorbed the facts and faced the terrible truth. The Bírechík looked human. They spoke federation standard. These werenít aliens at all. They were humans from the Alpha Quadrant, just like himself. Human cannibals.

"I have to go." He gasped and jerked to his feet. Tate yelped at his sudden movement and only just managed to scramble to his feet before Chakotay raced out of the hall, his hand over his mouth.

He only made it to the corridor before his heaving stomach emptied wine and bile onto the floor.  He had managed to hold it together as long as he had been able to tell himself that both the Bírechík and Kítech were aliens. Somehow he had managed to distance himself from the situation but with the understanding that these monsters actually shared a common descent with him, the horror had become too much.

His stomach was empty but still he retched dryly until he feared his stomach lining would rip itself out.  He barely noticed the light beam that descended and cleaned the splattered floor. He was aware of Tateís terrified whimpering but he couldnít find the strength to comfort the boy. He couldnít even bear to look at the pathetic creature that had merely knelt submissively at his feet while a member of his own race had been eaten.

He knew he was being unfair, but he was furiously angry with the Kítech. Tate, Wi and Skan were the method by which the Bírechík would control him and he hated them for being such a burden on his conscience. For their sake he was going to have to co-operate with their evil masters. It made him sick.

"Damn you." He hissed at the boy then gave a sob of shame as he saw Tate collapse in a bewildered heap at his feet and hug his legs for forgiveness of his unknown transgression.

As he helped the trembling boy back up with soothing noises and gentle strokes he realised the cunning insidiousness of the Bírechík. No wonder their hostages all capitulated. Ikton undoubtedly knew Chakotay would rather die himself than let these innocents suffer and that had been the whole point of todayís lessons.

The Bírechík had forced him into sexual relations with the Kítech so that he felt not only a moral but also a personal obligation to them. Then they had showed him with swift ruthlessness that Kítech had absolutely no more value alive than dead.

Had he still been under the illusion that the Kítech and Bírechík were separate alien races he would have still felt the same disgust and horror at the situation. But, somehow, knowing that they were all simply human made it unbearable.

The real questions now were how had a whole civilization been transported here from the Alpha Quadrant and how the hell had it simultaneously developed into technological advancement and moral depravity. How and why had the blond humans become cattle and the brunet humans their cannibalistic masters? And why did the Bírechík have a problem with their gene pool?

Chakotay had a feeling that if he could get the answers to those questions he would have a better grasp of what the hell was going on with this sick society. Knowledge was power, and he needed power if he was going to change things.

He also needed to go back into the dining room.

Although the Bírechík made him physically sick, he would be helpless as a prisoner. He needed to co-operate and gain their trust. His innate honesty made acting and lying difficult but the one strength he had was his ability to maintain either a calm, stoic exterior or an illusion of anger.

He had needed both to hide his feelings from Tom for all those years. He had managed to convince Tom that he hated him. Surely he could be equally successful in convincing Ikton that he liked him.

Chakotay looked at Tateís blond hair and a feeling of desperate loneliness overwhelmed him. He would never see Tom again and the knowledge that he would never again get the chance to see the younger man ripped at his heart.  His memory of the smug arrogant beautiful pilot was suddenly replaced by a vision of Tom lying on a Bírechík table, cooked and carved.

He shuddered convulsively. He had no doubt that if he had failed to take Tomís place it would have been the pilot on that table tonight. He wanted to roar with anger. He wanted to find the self-destruct control on this ship and blow the whole damned crew to hell. Instead, with a final comforting pat on Tateís flank he turned back to the arch and walked calmly back into the dining hall.

As he approached Ikton, the raucous chatter of the crew petered away and all eyes turned to watch his return. Ikton looked up at him in cautious surprise.

Chakotay shrugged casually. "It was a mistake to drink on an empty stomach" he said and reached over the table to grab a plateful of fruit and a hunk of dark brown bread.

Ikton noticed the way Chakotay kept his eyes carefully averted from the roast but made no comment. He couldnít believe that the alien had returned at all. This Chakotay was obviously going to fit in fine with his crew after all, he decided. Usually hostages lost at least two of their Kítech before they saw the light.

The Bírechík on Chakotayís right turned to him with a friendly grin. Chakotay froze his face into placidity and tried desperately to ignore the greasy meat juices that were smeared on the manís face. This Bírechík was far lighter in skin than Ikton, almost Chakotayís skin tone, but his features were far coarser.

"Iím Olmac," he said "Iím chief engineer. You any good with engines?" and he gave a hopeful smile

"Not really." Chakotay confessed, "Iím more of a pilot, actually."

At his other side Ikton choked noisily and then cuffed Chakotay across the back of the head. The blow was evidently meant playfully although it made Chakotayís ears ring.

"You BASTARD!" Ikton chortled, "I KNEW a Kítech couldnít really fly a ship. It was another of your sick jokes wasnít it?"

Chakotay nearly denied it and then realised that there was always the smallest chance that Voyager might return for him and bring Tom back within Iktonís reach. He grinned back at the Bírechík Captain.

"Of course." He replied and gave an apologetic shrug.

"I LIKE you." Ikton laughed delightedly, "I think today was a good day for us all." He turned to the rest of the crew "Lets all drink to our new Senior Pilot Chakotay!"

The Bírechík all raised their goblets good-heartedly and toasted the announcement. Chakotay tipped his own cup and pretended to join in but didnít. It was a small hollow victory not to join the toast but he was damned if he would pay more than lip service to the bastards.

He then turned to Ikton. "I appreciate the position, Captain, but I doubt I will understand your technology."

Ikton checked that Olmac wasnít listening and then confessed

"Actually, you donít need to. The whole ship is automatic anyway. We are on a pre-programmed flight path. To be honest, when your ship appeared we were just in the right place at the right time. Olmac likes to tinker with things but he hasnít got a clue either, really."

Chakotay listened in growing bewilderment. "You mean none of you know how this ship works?" he asked

Ikton shrugged. "We donít need to. It flies itself. We are on a fixed four-month loop. The ship flies from Bírechíknar to the defence grid. Stops for a week and then returns home. "

"So you didnít detect our entrance, we just happened to arrive during the layover week?"

"We were lucky. Lots of trips are a complete waste of time. Of course we would LIKE to be able to do more than constantly fly in a circle."

"So why isnít the programming changed?"

"No one knows how to do it. Itís not like we built the bloody thing." Ikton guffawed

"Who did?" Chakotay asked

"We donít know for sure. Our priests say it is a divine gift, but sensible people think itís just some left over alien technology from the crossing."

"The crossing?"

"Oh, just old legends really. Boring stuff about how the Bírechík found Bírechíknar." Ikton said dismissively and reached for his plate in clear evidence that he had no intention of continuing the discussion that night.

Chakotay sighed but decided he had at least some useful details already. At least it explained the incongruity of the technologically superior ship and the barbaric crew and Ďthe crossingí was presumably an explanation of how humans had arrived in the Delta Quadrant.

His instinct to return to the hall had paid off in spades, he decided. He wasnít foolish enough to think that the Bírechík would trust him yet, and he would undoubtedly be monitored for some time. Yet his otherwise pointless appointment to Senior Pilot had saved Tate, Wi and Skan, which had been his primary objective after all.

His musing was disturbed by a groan from Ikton. He turned to the Captain and then wished he hadnít. The Captainís Kítech had crawled between his masterís legs and his head was buried in Iktonís groin.  Despite his disgust at the scene, the slurping noises of the Kítech, the distinct odour of male musk and Iktonís evident enjoyment had a disturbing effect on his own cock.

He flushed in renewed self-disgust. He knew that he had been celibate for a long time before his capture and that his body was responding of its own volition but even so it was unconceivable that he should become aroused so quickly after his two earlier orgasms, particularly in the presence of a dismembered body. His stomach roiled again at the thought.

Tateís hand snaked tentatively between his legs. The Kítech were trained to immediately notice and to respond to the signs of arousal in their masters. Chakotay stiffened in panic. He looked around to see if anyone would notice if he simply pushed Tate away. To his relief they were all occupied by their own Kítech. The dining room had decended into an orgy.

He disengaged Tateís fingers and then looked up, straight into Olmacís face. The Bírechíkianís previously friendly eyes were narrowed in suspicion as he glanced first at Chakotay, then to Tate and then to Chakotayís goblet. Realisation dawned on Chakotay. There had obviously been some mild aphrodisiac in the wine and he had thrown up most of his first cup and had only pretended to join in the toast with his second.

Itís a nightmare, Chakotay decided. I simply canít do this!

Then he felt Tateís shivering fear through his trousers and he realised that he had no choice. He reached down and unfastened his waistband to release his erection. Tate scrambled with relief until he was knelt between Chakotayís legs and then he descended his head into Chakotayís lap.

Chakotay gave a gasp of mingled anger and desire as his cock was swallowed whole into Tateís eager mouth and he looked up to meet Olmacís smirk at his capitulation. Chakotay closed his eyes to shut out the vision of the Bírechík. Unable to prevent Tateís attentions he decided he might as well sit back and use the sensations shooting through his groin as a way of escaping his terrible reality.

He wondered what his spirit guide would have to say to him about this.  He was in the middle of a room full of cannibals being publicly sucked off by a terrified slave and he was actually getting more aroused by the minute. Tears of shame prickled the back of his eyes. He knew he had no choice but he was damned ashamed of enjoying it.

Another voice in the back of his head told him he might as well since he would probably be spending many more nights in this humiliating position.

As he saw it he had only three choices. One was suicide and the thought was actually appealing but he knew he couldnít do it. He would be taking the easy way out and leaving his kítech to suffer for his cowardice. The second was to tell the Bírechík exactly what he thought of them and be imprisoned. Again that would only lead to the return of Tate, Wi and Skan to the Bírechík Ďlarderí.

So the third, and to be honest, only option was to continue playing along with the Bírechík until he had a chance to actually do something.

The problem was, he hadnít got the faintest idea yet what that something would be.