Barge of the Dead
Stardate: Unknown
Original Airdate: 6 October 1999

[Shuttlecraft]

(Things are going Bang! behind Torres.)
TORRES: Torres to Voyager. I could use a little help here.
CHAKOTAY [OC]: What's your status?
TORRES: I'm approaching your position, but that ion storm blew out my deflector field. I've lost helm control and I'm venting plasma from the port nacelle.
CHAKOTAY [OC]: We're modifying a tractor pulse to slow you down.
TORRES: Acknowledged.
CHAKOTAY [OC]: The arresting fields are in place. You're clear to land.
JANEWAY [OC]: Hold on, B'Elanna. This is going to be bumpy.
(The shuttlecraft bounces into the shuttlebay and skids to a halt. Not having any seatbelts, Torres lurches forward onto the console. Paris enters.)
PARIS: B'Elanna? Are you alive?
TORRES: You tell me.
PARIS: You've got a mild concussion.
TORRES: That's the best thing that's happened to me all day.

[Ready room]

JANEWAY: When I give you an order, I expect you to follow it. I told you to return to Voyager, not chase the probe into the centre of an ion storm.
TORRES: We only have one multispatial probe. I didn't want to lose it.
JANEWAY: We only have one B'Elanna Torres. I don't want to lose her, either.
TORRES: Understood.
JANEWAY: Lanna, I'm glad you made it back in one piece,
TORRES: Did you just call me Lanna?
JANEWAY: I suppose I did.
TORRES: That's what my mother used to call me.
JANEWAY: Well then, I'm in good company.

[Torres' quarters]

TORRES: Come in.
CHAKOTAY: Feeling better?
TORRES: I've felt worse.
CHAKOTAY: I found something you might be interested in. It's what my ancestors called a monkey wrench. It was lodged in your port nacelle.
TORRES: How did it get there?
CHAKOTAY: Judging by your sensor logs, it looks like you ran into it after your deflector field collapsed, but the big question is, how did it get in this quadrant?
TORRES: What do you mean? (She takes the piece of metal from Chakotay, and sees the insignia on it. A circle with one big elongated diamond and two small curved triangles sticking out from it.)
TORRES: What? It's Klingon!
CHAKOTAY: And it's old. That's about all we know. Looks like the Klingons beat Starfleet to the Delta Quadrant by a few hundred years. You may be holding the most important archaeological find in Klingon history.
TORRES: Remind me to plant a flag on behalf of the Empire. You know, the simplest explanation is that the Borg assimilated a Bird of Prey somewhere in the Alpha Quadrant and they blew it out an airlock on their way home.
CHAKOTAY: Maybe so. In any case, it makes a nice souvenir.
(Chakotay leaves it with her. Torres puts it down on a table and goes to the replicator. When she turns back, blood is pouring from the insignia. Then she hears a multitude of voices, until it all vanishes again.)

[Engineering]

(The metal is on a stand.)
TORRES: Harry, it bled. Ut screamed. There's got to be some explanation.
KIM: Hey, I've got one for you. You hit your head harder than you thought.
TORRES: I wasn't hallucinating. Now run a submolecular scan.
KIM: How many more scans are we going to run? There's nothing there. No fluid or vapour residue.
TORRES: We may find some irregularities at the atomic level.
KIM: It's a hunk of metal. What you heard may have had nothing to do with this artefact. Maybe the comm. system picked up some stray signal from a pulsar. I don't know.
TORRES: A pulsar that speaks Klingon?
KIM: Okay, B'Elanna, there probably is some explanation for what happened. But it's oh three hundred hours. I'm tired, you're tired. Let's just stick this thing in a containment field and deal with it in the morning.
NEELIX: Ah! Just the Daughter of the Empire I've been looking for. I wanted to be the first to congratulate you on your discovery of the Klingon artefact.
TORRES: Neelix, I ran into it with a shuttle.
NEELIX: Some of the greatest discoveries in Klingon history were accidents. When Sarpek the Fearless unearthed the Knife of Kirom he was searching for his lost targ. Isn't that amazing? I've been doing some research.
TORRES: Why?
NEELIX: Well, I'm planning a celebration. This must be the treasure.
TORRES: Neelix, look, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but since I'm the only Klingon on board, there's really no point in throwing a party.
NEELIX: Oh, nonsense. This artefact isn't just a testament to Klingon spirit. It's a piece of the Alpha Quadrant. A symbol of Voyager's home. And that's just as worthy of celebration and song as finding some old knife.
KIM: The man's got a point.
NEELIX: And besides, I've already replicated five barrels of bloodwine. I'm not going to let them go to waste. Festivities begin at nineteen hundred hours. Oh, er, I almost forgot. As guest of honour, you're going to be expected to say a few words on behalf of your people.
KIM: It sounds like you've got a big day ahead of you. You should probably get some rest.
TORRES: All right, all right, let's call it a night.
KIM: Thank you.

[Tuvok's quarters]

TUVOK: Do not underestimate the power of the mind. The artefact was a catalyst for your already active imagination. It served as an unwelcome reminder of your ancestry. The self-loathing you experience when you look in the mirror and see a Klingon.
TORRES: Who said anything about self-loathing?
TUVOK: You despise being Klingon. It's no secret. What you experienced in your quarters was a subconscious manifestation of that hatred. The blood in your veins, the voices of your ancestors, all symbols of your Klingon heritage.
TORRES: And when the blood disappeared that was, what, me trying to vaporise that part of myself?
TUVOK: Yes, but the essence of who you are, the artefact itself, remained.
TORRES: And the moral of the story is?
TUVOK: Quite simple. That despite your efforts to become something else, whether it be Starfleet or Maquis, your Klingon nature continues to assert itself.
TORRES: That's an intriguing theory.
TUVOK: Perhaps we should forego your meditation in favour of a different exercise.
TORRES: Fine by me. (Tuvok fetches a bat'leth.)
TORRES: This should be interesting.
TUVOK: Feel the weight of the bat'leth in your hands. Describe the first thought that enters your mind.
TORRES: It's a clumsy weapon. Overstated, like everything else Klingon.
TUVOK: You can't see the elegance of its design because of your hatred.
TORRES: I don't hate Klingons.
TUVOK: It's a warrior's blade, crafted for precision and balance. Observe.
(Tuvok twirls the big blade around his body and head, ending up with the long curved edge inches from Torres' neck. The final set of fast moves end up cutting her cheek.)
TORRES: Is this your idea of therapy?
TUVOK: Listen to yourself whine like a Ferengi.
TORRES: PetaQ!
TUVOK: You're not worthy of the blood in your veins. A true Klingon would try to kill me where I stand.
TORRES: What the hell has gotten into you?
TUVOK: This exercise is over. You are dismissed, Lieutenant, and take your dishonour with you.

[Mess hall]

(The EMH is singing a Klingon song when Torres enters.)
EMH: 'ej HumtaH 'ej DechtaH 'Iw. And the blood was ankle-deep. 'ej Doq SodTah ghoSpa' Sqral bIQtiQ. And the river Skral ran crimson red.
SEVEN: I fail to see the merit of learning a Klingon drinking song.
EMH: It's not about drinking, Seven. It's about saluting the noble deeds of our ancestors and honouring those who fell in battle. Think, Qapla'. Think, long live the Empire!
SEVEN: Think again.
EMH: Okay, so I'm overdoing it a bit. But try to get into the spirit of the occasion.
SEVEN: Very well. 'ej HumtaH 'ej DechtaH 'Iw.
BOTH: 'ej Doq SodTah ghoSpa' Sqral bIQtiQ 'e' pa' jaj law' mo' jaj puS jaj qeylIS molar MIgh HoHchu'. 
NEELIX: Gagh, anyone? Sop joq jih yuv gagh drek.
(The worms are just about moving.)
TORRES: He said, eat this or he'll force it down the gullet of your corpse.
NEELIX: No offence.
PARIS: Oh, none taken. So this is replicated, right?
NEELIX: Unfortunately.
PARIS: And how do you get it to move?
NEELIX: I used a kinesthetic agent to give it a little oomph.
TORRES: Is it just me, or has everyone gone Klingon-happy?
PARIS: Oh, come on, B'Elanna. They're all doing this for you.
TORRES: Well then, they don't know me very well, and if you even think of joining in on this embrace your heritage nonsense, I swear, I'll rip out your tongue and wear it as a belt.
PARIS: Oh no, there's not a lot of Klingon in you.
TORRES: I inherited the forehead and the bad attitude. That's it. She would have loved all this.
PARIS: Your mother?
TORRES: She was so obsessed with Klingon ritual, myths. It used to drive my father and me crazy. Did I ever tell you that she put me in a Klingon monastery?
PARIS: You're kidding.
TORRES: It was after their marriage ended. She pulled me out of the Federation school in order to teach me honour and discipline.
PARIS: Out of the plasma cooker, into the fire.
TORRES: She prayed to Kahless every day to guide me in the ways of the warrior. I guess he wasn't listening.
JANEWAY: Ladies and gentlemen. Could I have your attention, please? I hate to interrupt the festivities, but before I turn the floor over to our resident Klingon, I'd like to say a few words. This is a great day for the Klingon Empire. A day when we honour their ancestors, those warriors whose deeds of valour and glory led them to the Delta Quadrant.
(To Torres, Janeway's words get very, very slow. A red light is glowing behind her.)
JANEWAY: May they live on in song and story. (Torres turns to see an altar and a Klingon warrior with a bat'leth who walks past her. Another stands behind Janeway and raises a dagger.)
TORRES: Captain!
(The Klingon stabs Janeway in the back. The other slashes the EMH and Seven through the abdomen with the bat'leth. Chakotay and Kim die next, then finally Paris.)
BROK'TAN: Legh soh va gre'thor.
(He attacks Torres.)

[Barge of the Dead - on deck]

(Lightning flashes around with wooden ship.)
TORRES: Where am I?
BROK'TAN: Silence The dead ask no questions.
(Two Klingons haul Torres to her feet and hold her.)
TORRES: Computer, end programme.
BROK'TAN: Qem nuh meq.
TORRES: Let go of me!
(Another Klingon hands Brok'Tan a branding iron with the Klingon insignia glowing red..)
TORRES: Wait, wait.
BROK'TAN: Uch ghah!
TORRES: No, wait.
(She screams as he brands her cheek.)
BROK'TAN: She won't take the mark.
TORRES: What the hell is going on?
BROK'TAN: Qus'daq ba'. Qus'daq na ghah.
(They sit her down next to an old Klingon and leave.)
TORRES: Where am I?
HIJ'QA: You should know. You're half Klingon.
TORRES: Enlighten me.
HIJ'QA: This is the Barge of the Dead. Our dishonoured souls are being taken to Gre'thor.
TORRES: Klingon Hell is a myth.
HIJ'QA: That's what I thought. Just a foolish superstition. Imagine my surprise.
TORRES: But I was on Voyager with my crew.
HIJ'QA: That was the naj, the dream before dying. When we can't accept that we've died, we create the illusion of life to hold on to.
TORRES: He slaughtered my friends.
HIJ'QA: No, he slaughtered the dream. He dragged you from the illusion of life. This is where you belong.
VOICES [OC]: Hij'qa. Mag hoshonah nes'a Gre'thor. Jih neh. Jih ghaj nug soh neh. Jih qhaj nug soh. Nug soh los. Vav, nuqdaq sho? Nuqdaq' oh puchpa'e' 
TORRES: What is that?
HIJ'QA: It's the Kos'Karii. They'll try to lure you to them. Don't listen.
VOICES [OC]: Duj tlvoqtah. Batlh daqawlu'tah. Tugh! 
CHAKOTAY [OC]: B'Elanna, are you there?
JANEWAY [OC]: Lieutenant, can you hear me?
PARIS [OC]: Help us find you.
TORRES: Tom? Chakotay?
HIJ'QA: It's not your friends.
(A Klingon jumps overboard, to be eaten by sea monsters.)
HIJ'QA: There are things here worse than death.
BROK'TAN: You.
(Torres is dragged along the deck to the helmsman.)
KORTAR: Is this the mongrel child you spoke of.
BROK'TAN: Yes. The one whose face would not bear the mark.
KORTAR: B'Elanna, daughter of Miral. It's not your time.
TORRES: How do you know my name?
KORTAR: You've come close to boarding this ship many times. I remember the first. You were a child. Your mother took you to the Sea of Gatan. Your curiosity was as deep as the water.
TORRES: I fell in. I almost drowned.
KORTAR: When your mother breathed life back into your lungs, she told you about me.
TORRES: So you're supposed to be Kortar.
KORTAR: Ah. You remember me.
TORRES: I remember the myth of Kortar, the first Klingon. He destroyed the gods who created him.
KORTAR: And as punishment, I was condemned to ferry the souls of the dishonoured to Gre'thor.
(Torres spots a bat'leth hanging on a mast, and sidles towards it.)
TORRES: I may have believed in you as a child, but not anymore.
KORTAR: If you didn't still believe, you wouldn't be here.
(She grabs the bat'leth.)
KORTAR:  Foolish girl.
(He seizes the blade.)
KORTAR: You cannot harm me. I'm already dead.
(He takes the bat'leth off her, cutting her palm in the process. The storm gets worse.)
TORRES: What's happening?
KORTAR: The soul of another dishonoured warrior is being delivered.
(A woman appears on the deck.)
BROK'TAN: Kot'mah soh Gre'thor.
TORRES: Mother.

[Sickbay]

(Torres suddenly sits up on the biobed.)
EMH: It's all right. You're safe.
PARIS: Your shuttle was drifting on the trailing edge of an ion storm. You lost life support. We found you just in time.
TORRES: But I got through the storm. I remember crashing into the shuttlebay.
EMH: When we tractored your shuttle back to Voyager, you were in a coma.
PARIS: We almost lost you.
TORRES: The Klingon artefact.
PARIS: Artefact?
TORRES: My hand.
(It has a cut on it. The EMH heals it.)
EMH: You took quite a beating out there. More than your fair share of cuts and bruises.

[Torres' quarters]

(Torres is still staring at her healed palm when the doorbell chimes.)
TORRES: Come in.
CHAKOTAY: How are you feeling?
TORRES: Er, a little out of place.
CHAKOTAY: Would you like to talk about it?
TORRES: Yes. And no.
CHAKOTAY: Let me know when you decide.
TORRES: I don't know how to say this without sounding crazy.
CHAKOTAY: Try.
TORRES: Do you believe in an afterlife?
CHAKOTAY: I accept there are things in the universe than can't be scanned with a tricorder. What happened to you out there?
TORRES: I think I died. I died, and I was on the Barge of the Dead in the Klingon afterlife.
CHAKOTAY: Klingon mythology has been ingrained in you since you were a child. It's not surprising you experienced some of those images while you were unconscious.
TORRES: I saw my mother, Chakotay. If it was real, then she's dead.
CHAKOTAY: B'Elanna, your mother, the Barge of the Dead, those are just symbols. It's your subconscious mind trying to tell you something.
TORRES: Tell me what? That my mother is going to hell?
CHAKOTAY: You need time to digest what you experienced. You have to interpret the symbols and search for their meaning.
TORRES: What if there is no symbolism to interpret? What if the afterlife is real? I'm an engineer. My whole life I've immersed myself in science and schematics. But what if it's time to start looking beyond that?
CHAKOTAY: My grandfather used to think he could transform himself into a wolf so that he could venture out to explore the spirit realm. It was real to him, as real as what your experience was to you, but that doesn't mean he grew hair all over his body and walked around on all fours.
TORRES: My mother has been on my mind a lot lately. We just had a big anniversary. It's been ten years since we talked. But it was so real. I could taste the blood in the air. I could feel the wind. I was seasick from the rocking of the boat.

[Engineering]

PARIS: Hi.
TORRES: Hi.
PARIS: What are you reading?
TORRES: The paq'batlh. It's a sacred Klingon scroll.
PARIS: Find anything?
TORRES: You don't want to know.
PARIS: Oh, come on. It can't be that bad.
TORRES: You want to bet? I found out why my mother is on her way to Gre'thor. It's because I sent her there.
PARIS: What do you mean?
TORRES: The sins of the child. She's being punished for my dishonour. I turned my back on everything Klingon, and now she has to pay the price.
PARIS: B'Elanna, you can't even be sure your mother is dead, much less blame yourself for what happens to her in some afterlife.
TORRES: Look at this. The eleventh tome of Klavek. It's a story about Kahless returning from the dead still bearing a wound from the afterlife. A warning that what he experienced wasn't a dream. The same thing happened to me.
PARIS: B'Elanna.
TORRES: And the only reason Kahless was in the afterlife to begin with was to rescue his brother from the Barge of the Dead and deliver him to Sto-Vo-Kor.
PARIS: Okay.
TORRES: Don't you see? I have a chance to rescue my mother, if I can accept responsibility for her dishonour before she passes through the gates of Gre'thor. I have to go back.
PARIS: Well, wait a minute. What do you mean, go back?
TORRES: I can't let her suffer for what I've done. It's the only way.
PARIS: B'Elanna, I respect what you believe in, but you're starting to scare me.
TORRES: I'm scaring myself.

[Briefing room]

TORRES: It's a controlled procedure. I'll be under constant supervision. The Doctor can simulate the conditions of the ion storm. He's agreed to help me, but only with your permission.
JANEWAY: I'm still not inclined to grant your request.
TORRES: Are you telling me that I can't pursue my spiritual beliefs?
JANEWAY: B'Elanna, I'm not going to let you turn this into a debate about freedom of worship.
TORRES: But that's what it is.
JANEWAY: There's a limit to how far I'll let religious practices go aboard this ship. If your belief system required you to sacrifice a child to your gods, I wouldn't allow that either.
TORRES: That's an absurd example.
JANEWAY: You want to simulate a near death experience so you can revisit the Barge of Death, and you're telling me what's absurd? Bottom line, B'Elanna. I'm not going to let you risk your life for this.
TORRES: Captain, please.
JANEWAY: Request denied.
TORRES: What I do with my own life is one thing, but to know that I have condemned my mother. That because of what I've done, she's
JANEWAY: I appreciate what you're trying to say, B'Elanna, but whatever you experienced, it wasn't real.
TORRES: It doesn't matter if you think it was real. It was real to me. Whatever it was, it changed me. I can't ignore that. I need to confront what's happened.
JANEWAY: I'm sorry.
TORRES: You know, you're just like her.
JANEWAY: Lieutenant?
TORRES: My mother. You're as dedicated to Starfleet principles as she was to Klingon honour. I know that we haven't always seen eye to eye, but despite our differences you helped me become a good officer. And I'd like to think that you're proud of me for it.
JANEWAY: I am.
TORRES: My mother never had the chance to be proud of me. I'd like her to know me the way you do. I don't want her to die thinking of me as a disgrace. You have to let me do this.

[Sickbay]

(Torres is lighting big fat candles.)
PARIS: I can't believe the captain is allowing this. One minute you're in a coma, the next you're a born-again Klingon? I just don't get it.
TORRES: I'm not sure I get it, either. I just know this is something I have to do.
PARIS: There must be an easier way for you to explore your spirituality. Go to church, or something?
TORRES: It wouldn't be enough.
PARIS: Look, I'll read the scrolls, I'll learn Klingon. We'll figure this out together.
TORRES: Next time.
PARIS: I just hope there is a next time.
TORRES: There will be.
(Torres lies down on the biobed in the surgical bay. Janeway enters.)
JANEWAY: Report.  
(The EMH comes out of his office.)
EMH: I've examined the sensor logs from the shuttle mission. I should be able to recreate the exact conditions that triggered her near-death experience.
JANEWAY: Good. B'Elanna?
TORRES: I'm ready.
PARIS: Be careful.
(He kisses her.)
JANEWAY: You'll have an hour to do whatever it is you need to do. At the first sign of trouble, we're bringing you out. Understood?
EMH: Computer, erect an isolation field around the surgical bay. Decrease oxygen concentration within the force field by twenty seven percent. Begin ionising the enclosed atmosphere to five thousand particles per cubic metre. She's unconscious.
PARIS: Neural activity is decreasing to eighty seven percent. Sixty two percent. Synaptic function is failing.
EMH: Compensating.
PARIS: Neural activity is nominal.
JANEWAY: She's not breathing.
EMH: She's still alive. Her lungs are taking in just enough oxygen to keep her brain from necrotising.
JANEWAY: Qapla', B'Elanna.

[Barge of the Dead - on deck]

(Torres wakes, dressed in full Klingon armour.)
BROK'TAN [OC]: Sus'a g gre'thor qay.
(She keeps her face hidden from Brok'Tan as he walks past, then opens the deck hatch.)

[Barge of the Dead - below decks]

TORRES: Mother.
MIRAL: Stay away. You are an illusion. You're a Kos'Karii trying to lure me away
TORRES: Mother, it's me. It's me.
MIRAL: B'Elanna? Then you died as well?
TORRES: I've come to lift your dishonour.
MIRAL: But you don't believe in Sto-Vo-Kor.
TORRES: A lot's happened since the last time I saw you. I've changed.
MIRAL: Not enough. It was you who brought this damnation upon me.
TORRES: If you hadn't tried to force me to become a warrior
MIRAL: I tried to guide you in the ways of a Klingon.
TORRES: You tried a little too hard.
MIRAL: If you had listened to me when you were younger, we wouldn't be on the Barge of the Dead. You were always running away.
TORRES: You drove me away. The same way you drove away my father.
MIRAL: He abandoned us.
TORRES: You pushed him to the point where he couldn't bear to be around anything Klingon, including me.
MIRAL: I wanted to give you honour. And if you had understood that, I would be not be on my way to Gre'thor.
TORRES: We're on the Barge of the Dead and we're still having the same argument we were having ten years ago. Look, if I have dishonoured you, I am truly sorry.
MIRAL: Are you? You have too much anger in your heart to be sorry.
TORRES: Oh, we don't have time for this if we're going to perform the transference.
MIRAL: Is that how you intend to lift my dishonour? By taking my place?
TORRES: Oh, don't worry. I have no intention of being on this barge when it gets to Gre'thor. We've got just enough time to perform the ritual before my crew resuscitates me.
MIRAL: Oh. I should have known you'd choose the easy way.
TORRES: What are you talking about? Do you know the risks I've taken to save you?
MIRAL: You still understand nothing about being a Klingon. I would rather face damnation with what little honour you have left me, than cheat my way into Sto-Vo-Kor.
BROK'TAN: There she is. Bring them.

[Barge of the Dead - on deck]

KORTAR: The mongrel child has returned.
TORRES: I'm here to take my mother's place.
MIRAL: B'Elanna!
KORTAR: You wish to claim her dishonour as your own?
TORRES: Yes.
KORTAR: You're willing to die for her?
TORRES: Yes. Release her to Sto-Vo-Kor.
MIRAL: No!
KORTAR: Keep her quiet!
BROK'TAN: Silence.
(He puts his hand over Miral's mouth.)
KORTAR:  It's not your decision. She has the right to reclaim your honour. Once we've reached Gre'thor and you are within its gates, I will release her.
TORRES: No. Now.
KORTAR: You're very impatient. Time must be slipping away in the living world. You're concerned that your friends will revive you before you complete your deception. Did you really think that I could be fooled so easily?
TORRES: I will die for her. No tricks, no games. I will take her place honourably, like a Klingon.
KORTAR: If you choose this path, your friends will not be able to save you.
MIRAL: No! I forbid it!
TORRES: I understand.
(The brand vanishes from Miral's cheek and appears on Torres'.)
KORTAR: Your dishonour has been lifted. Sto-Vo-Kor awaits you.
MIRAL: I will not abandon my daughter.
KORTAR: She has made the choice. Go!
(Miral vanishes. The Barge arrives at the gates of a fortress.)
KORTAR: Daughter of Miral, embrace your fate.
(Torres steps onto the gangplank, and the gates open to reveal a world of flame inside.)

[Sickbay]

PARIS: Her neural patterns are breaking down.
EMH: I'm initiating emergency resuscitation. Vent the ionised particles. Twenty milligrams cordrazine, now.
JANEWAY: I'm deactivating the forcefield.
(On the gangplank, Torres looks back to see Tuvok holding a bat'leth. He steps up and knocks her off the gangplank.)

[Gre'thor Sickbay]

(Candles all around, and a brazier of fresh volcanic lava heating the room.)
EMH: Welcome to Gre'thor.
TORRES: This isn't Gre'thor.
EMH: Oh, I assure you it is. You've taken your mark.
TORRES: What is this, some kind of a joke?
NEELIX: This is no laughing matter.
EMH: You've met Mister Neelix, our ambassador to the recently deceased. Questions, comments, suggestions, he's your man.
NEELIX: If you'll follow me.
EMH: By the way, I'll be performing an aria from Berlioz's Faust tomorrow night in Holodeck two. Feel free to stop by.

[Gre'thor Corridor]

NEELIX: Fifteen decks. Computers augmented with bioneural circuitry. Top cruising speed, warp nine point nine seven five. Not that you'll be going anywhere.
TORRES: No Fek'lhr? No Cavern of Despair?
NEELIX: Don't need them.
TORRES: I don't consider Voyager hell.
NEELIX: Are you sure? Have you ever been truly happy here? If you thought fifty years aboard this ship would be difficult, try eternity.

[Gre'thor Mess hall]

ALL: (singing)  'ej HumtaH 'ej DechtaH 'Iw 'ej Doq SodTah ghoSpa' Sqral bIQtiQ 'e' pa' jaj law' mo' jaj puS. 
JANEWAY: This is a great day for B'Elanna Torres. A day when we pay tribute to her dishonour.

[Sickbay]

EMH: She's not responding to the cordrazine.
JANEWAY: Neural activity at forty eight percent, thirty seven.
PARIS: We're losing her.
EMH: We have to stabilise her synaptic functions. I'm attempting a direct neural resequencing.

[Gre'thor Mess hall]

JANEWAY: B'Elanna's misdeeds have led her to Gre'thor. She comes with no valour, no glory, nothing to celebrate in song and story.
NEELIX: You really have no one to blame but yourself.
KIM: You've kept us all at arm's length. Even Tom, who you claim to love.
PARIS: Hear, hear.
SEVEN: I tried to assist you in making Engineering more efficient, but you resisted. You're stubborn.
EMH: She inherited that from her mother, along with the forehead.
CHAKOTAY: What do you think of the afterlife so far?
TORRES: It's not exactly what I had in mind.
CHAKOTAY: Are you interpreting all the symbols? Searching your subconscious for their meaning?
TUVOK: Lieutenant Torres. Defend yourself.

[Barge of the Dead - below decks]

TORRES: Captain?
(But it is Miral in a Starfleet uniform.)
TORRES: What are you still doing here? I released you to Sto-Vo-Kor.
MIRAL: You can't free me until you free yourself.
TORRES: I don't understand.
MIRAL: You never did.
TORRES: I did everything that the ritual told me to do. I came back for you.
MIRAL: Forget the ritual. It's meaningless.
TORRES: Meaningless? I died for you.
MIRAL: No, you didn't. It's not your time. You still don't understand this journey.
TORRES: Then tell me.
MIRAL: Request denied.
TORRES: What do you want?
MIRAL: Who are you asking?
TORRES: You. Kahless. The tooth fairy. Anybody who will tell me what I am supposed to do.
MIRAL: You are the only one who can answer that question. Choose to live, B'Elanna.

[Sickbay]

PARIS: Neural activity's at twenty three percent.
EMH: Initiate cortical stimulation. Pulses at fifty millijoules.
PARIS: No effect.
EMH: Increase to seventy millijoules.
JANEWAY: Come on, B'Elanna.

[Barge of the Dead - on deck]

(The Voyager crew are waiting for her.)
TUVOK: Defend yourself.
(Torres takes the bat'leth and holds it to Tuvok's throat.)
TORRES: You want me to fight? You want me to be a good little Klingon? Is that it?
JANEWAY: You've let your anger consume you. Now it's consuming us.
SEVEN: She's condemned us all.
EMH: Misery loves company.
TORRES: Get away from me.
KIM: Or what? You'll kill us where we stand?
TORRES: Tell me what you want me to be. A good Starfleet officer? A good Maquis? Lover? Daughter? Just tell me what you want from me.
MIRAL: We don't want anything from you, B'Elanna.
JANEWAY: We only want you.
NEELIX: We're not your enemies.
PARIS: Defend yourself.
TORRES: I don't know how. I'm so tired of fighting.
JANEWAY: We know.
(Torres throws the bat'leth into the ocean.)
MIRAL: You've taken the first step of your journey.
TORRES: And what about you?
MIRAL: We will see each other again.
TORRES: In Sto-Vo-Kor.
MIRAL: Yes, in Sto-Vo-Kor. Or, maybe, when you get home.

[Sickbay]

TORRES: Mother? Oh god, I'm alive.
(She leans forward into Janeway's arms.)
JANEWAY: Welcome back.

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