Tenuous Ties
G. L. Dartt
She wasn't sure what drew her from sleep. Rising to her elbows, she opened her senses to the ship, gauging the ebb and flow of the crew, trying to pinpoint what had been altered enough to cause her to wake. It had not been a death, a fact for which she was truly grateful. The incident in engineering that killed ten crewmembers not long ago, seven of them immediately, had literally flattened her and left her lying on the deck in her office for well over an hour before she finally managed to regain her senses and make her way to sickbay. What she was experiencing now was more of a subtle disturbance in the fabric that made up the crew, triggered by a brief flash of fear and pain that clutched futilely at her mind before fading entirely.
Beside her, Tom Paris lay on his back, his sandy hair tumbling boyishly over his brows, his right hand resting limply on his smooth, bare chest as he slumbered peacefully. She smiled fondly and brushed a flaxen strand away from his eyes, gently so as not to disturb him, and then slipped from between the sheets. Finding a robe draped casually over a chair, Lt. Commander Kes pulled it over her diminutive form and went out to the living area of her quarters. The remains of a meal littered the small dining table, and two nearly empty wine glasses rested on the coffee table by the sofa. She spent a few moments tidying up, depositing the dishes in the recycler before she moved over to the mat spread out beneath the large viewport dominating the outer bulkhead. Outside, the stars seemed to streak by, distorted by the warp bubble of the ship, the black depths of space a cold comfort on this night. In the reflection of the plexiglass, she noted that her shaggy blonde hair was mussed. Self-consciously, she raked her fingers through it to straighten it, brushing it over the wing-like ears that swept up gracefully from the corner of her jaws, terminating in delicate points.
She lit a small lamp, and sank down onto the mat in a Vulcan meditation position. Closing her eyes, she deepened her breathing and cast her mind out, seeking some reason for her lingering unease. Touching lightly on the consciousness of the crew, she tried to determine what was missing, regretting that she no longer boasted the abilities she once had. Unable to pick out much from the mental buzz, apart from the few individuals with whom she had served on Voyager, Kes explored further, reaching out to those she knew best.
The captain and Seven were in their quarters, finally asleep, but unsettled. Thoughts of the Borg Collective and Seven's mother plagued the science officer, drifting through her dreams like wraiths. Janeway responded to Seven's restlessness with a deep concern darkening the threads of her subconscious as she cradled her partner protectively. A few decks below, Ro and B'Elanna lay curled together like children in the night. Lingering anger, determination and a sense of guilt colored their nocturnal visions and laced them with lightning, a storm raging beneath the surface of their slumber. In the ship's medical center, the Doctor's thought patterns were clean and cold, tinged with that unique compassion as he kept watch over his newest patient. Kes smiled faintly at this, recognizing that the EMH was indeed sentient, for how else could she sense his thoughts?
Finally, on this deck, Tom slept peacefully, his subconscious warm with satisfaction and continued need for his lover. Yet deeper in his mind, his dreams were riddled with the fear of abandonment and the normal insecurity about her feelings toward him.
Despite all these uncertain emotions, Kes detected no real turmoil, nothing that she could pinpoint as the cause of her disturbance. She was forced to conclude that these were not the source of her sudden awakening. She opened her eyes and regarded the flame, annoyed that she lacked the ability to be more precise than that. There were so many on board this vessel that needed her counseling skills, yet were reluctant to avail themselves of her. It had once been in her capabilities to soothe all hurts, to ease all tensions ... to control all minds.
She smiled bitterly to herself. When she had been so powerful, easing the thoughts of those around her had been the last thing on her agenda. She had been far too occupied with being overwhelmed by her situation and resenting those who had helped guide her there. In any event, such controlling of minds, despite her desire to ease the suffering of those she loved, would be just as wrong as the pain she had caused when the wild energies burned within her, consuming what little remained of her soul. Had she not managed to merge with Sek, her other half, she undoubtedly would have self destructed in a most spectacular fashion.
Knowing she could do no more, she leaned forward and blew out the tiny flame, rising gracefully to her feet and returning to the bedroom. For a moment, she stood in the doorway looking down at the man she had allowed into her heart. There had always been an attraction between herself and Paris, though neither had dared act on it. When first encountering him on Voyager, she had been involved with the Talaxian, Neelix, and to her knowledge and beliefs, Ocampa mated for life. She shouldn't have even entertained such temptation, and perhaps it was an indication of her aberration that in the deepest of her thoughts, she did wonder about what it would be like to join with Tom. It had occurred to her, more than once, that she was a mutation of some sort, a freak of nature who was able to access powers unknown to other Ocampa. She had even considered that she might be the next step in the evolutionary chain of a species that had been nurtured and developed by the Caretakers. In her merging with her other half, which had been stabilized in the form of a hologram, she had become an even stranger lifeform, unique unto herself.
She had no way of knowing what kind of existence that merging would provide for her. She was already ten years old, as old as most Ocampa could hope to achieve, and while she appeared to have reached the equivalent of a Human in her late thirties or early forties, Kes could tell that the process had stalled. In fact, she wasn't even sure if it was truly a result of physiology. Her clients tended to respect those older than themselves, equating age with wisdom, so it was entirely possible that, somehow, her unusual abilities had arranged her appearance of middle age as nothing more than camouflage for the sake of her profession.
There was so much she didn't understand about herself, she thought soberly. So much that she still had to learn. She missed Guinan, the bartender serving on board the Enterprise. The mysterious woman had acted as a sort of mentor to her during her assignment on the flagship, and Kes desperately needed that counsel at times. There was no one on Millennium who could provide her with the same guidance and advice.
A soft sound wafted from the bed, an exhalation of breath as Tom turned over, his arm reaching across the sheets, almost as if he were seeking her out in his sleep. She tilted her head as she regarded him. He was not perfect, she admitted to herself honestly, and while he had outgrown many of the faults that had caused him to break up with B'Elanna Torres, the ship's chief engineer, he was still limited in some ways. But he possessed a good heart, often capable of acts of kindness and courage that could be surprising in their intensity. So much of his personality had formed as a result of his upbringing. Kes wondered why parents did not understand the profound effect they had on their offspring. Still, people had to be responsible for themselves, despite their background, and it seemed that on Voyager, Tom had learned that lesson and was becoming better at it each day.
He had told her that it didn't matter where her path would lead, or even how short it might be. He would love and cherish her in whatever time they could share. He also pointed out that as the ship's Wing Commander, he might actually be the one with the shortened life span. She remembered the earnest expression in his eyes, the sincerity in his words as he sat across from her, holding her hands.
"No one has any guarantees in this life, Kes," he said. "Everything is uncertain. We can always play it safe, always keep our hearts in a box. We won't get hurt, and neither will anyone else because of us, but we won't really be living, either."
She couldn't argue with that, and in the end, when he had reached out to her, she reached back, knowing only that she cared for him deeply and being alone was no longer what she wanted for herself.
Smiling faintly, she tossed aside her robe and slipped into the bed next to him, drawn to his warmth. Not quite awake, he nonetheless reached for her, wrapping her up in a strong embrace, but a gentle one, with an instinctive need to protect and cradle her. Closing her eyes, she settled next to him gratefully, and put aside the tiny, nagging doubt that something was wrong.
Pain lanced through her temple, and groggily, Elisa Tarn opened her eyes, the lids gummy from unconsciousness. It was frighteningly dark, with only a scattering of lights blinking steadily in the board in front of her. It took a few moments before she dazedly realized she was strapped into the pilot seat of a vessel of some kind. She could hear the soft hum of an impulse engine, higher in pitch than the warp engines of a starship. Lifting her head, she winced as pain throbbed with the same rhythm of her heart.
Had she been in an accident? Has something happened to Millennium? Slowly, the memories trickled back, filtered through a haze of horror and disbelief.
She had been sent to astrometrics for charts. She had encountered someone who didn't belong in that part of the science labs, particularly at that time of the evening. When he saw her, he had immediately attacked, knocking her out. He must have stuffed her in this escape pod and jettisoned it. But why? And what had he been doing there in astrometrics during the gamma shift when it was supposed to be closed down for night watch?
Groaning, she reached up to feel the lump on her forehead, just below her hairline. It was tender but there didn't seem to be a break in the skin. She wondered what kind of weapon he had used. It certainly wasn't a phaser. Being stunned was a great deal more pleasant than this.
Blinking painfully, she regarded the board in front of her and then raised her eyes. The blast shield was closed, and Tarn had to grope for a switch to lower it, revealing a viewport. The large curve of a planet filled her vision, and she realized that the escape pod had powered down to a quarter impulse, beginning its descent into the atmosphere. Once launched from the main vessel, these escape pods would automatically seek out the nearest M-class planet, unless overridden by the pilot. Tarn's unconsciousness had prevented her from taking control of the navigational system while in space, and she knew it would be imprudent to try such a thing now. Unfortunately, once on the ground, the small pods were not designed to take off again. Wherever she was headed, she was going to be stuck there until someone came to rescue her.
Would someone come? She wondered dismally how she had traveled this far without Millennium retrieving its errant pod. That meant no one had missed her. Tears of frustration and fear stung Tarn's eyes, but she blinked them back, reaching deep inside herself for the discipline and comfort of her Starfleet training.
Concentrate, she scolded herself. There was no time to worry about things she had minimal control over, such as whether Millennium would find her or not. She had to focus on the here and now, do what she could not only to survive, but somehow improve her position so that she could see to her own rescue. She reached out and tapped the controls, unsurprised when the comm system proved to be offline. It was obvious that whoever had set this up had no intention of making it easy for her.
She blinked painfully. Who was she kidding? She knew exactly who had set this up. She was just having a great deal of difficulty believing it.
What was he thinking, she thought as she settled back in the pilot's seat, bracing herself for touchdown. What was his purpose? She suspected he had been tampering with the communications packet that was transmitted to Starfleet once a month. Either by removing certain information, or adding to it, but she didn't know why. What frightened her the most was that she may have discovered something beyond mere tampering, something worth killing for because, certainly, launching her into space in an escape pod was not done for the sake of her continued well-being. It was possible he sent her off alive only because killing her would have taken too much time, and might have left evidence that security would have detected.
She caught her breath as the pod descended below the cloud cover and she had her first good look at the planet where she could expect to be for some time ... if not for the rest of her life. It didn't seem promising. There were no signs of civilization, lowering her chances of being able to send any kind of communication requesting assistance. The vegetation was sparse on the land she was flying over, the soil stark and black, while in the distance, she could see smoke or vapor rising from the surrounding mountains. That indicated the area was seismically active, but the fact that the escape pod was preparing to make a landing there meant it was the best of what must have been several undesirable choices. Tarn suspected that simple survival would be her top priority, with little resources left over for seeking a rescue of sorts.
Looking ahead, she saw a glint and realized it was a lake of some kind. The escape pod had sought out the most inhabitable and hospitable environment in the area, and Tarn braced herself for the impact. It wasn't bad, as these things went, but it was still a jolt, her teeth snapping together so hard, she was briefly afraid that she had chipped one.
For long moments, she sat in the pilot seat, staring through the viewport at the lake spread out before her. The pod had landed on a rise, presumably above any high water mark, offering Tarn a good view of the valley around her. Stunted trees, their bark black and gnarled, poked up from wisp-thin strands of grass, while large boulders, cracked and shattered, littered the area. Tarn took a deep breath and rose from her seat, moving back to see what she would have to work with.
She was relieved when she tracked down the medical kit in its customary compartment. Retrieving the tricorder, she scanned her body and carried out the instructions issued by the device. Using the dermal regenerator, she healed the cut on her head and eased the pressure from the slight concussion she had suffered. She also administered a full spectrum antibiotic hypospray, not only to prevent infection, but also to protect her from any alien microbes that might lurk in the planet's environment.
Feeling much better, she took stock of her provisions. She knew she could utilize the pod for a shelter for as long as she needed it, since it appeared to have landed in as protected a spot as any in the vicinity. The escape vessel was designed for six people with emergency rations for approximately six months. Various tools were provided, from shovels and axes to fishing tackle and snares. More advanced tools came in the form of tricorders, a few hand phasers and three phaser rifles. She activated the emergency homing beacon, uncomfortably aware that a vessel would have to be in orbit to detect it. The sabotage of the comm system was a more damaging blow than was apparent at first consideration.
She decided that her survival would be assured for the near future, assuming she was careful and there wasn't anything out there that wanted to make her a meal. She ran a thorough check of the atmosphere and determined that there were no poisonous elements in the primarily oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere. The sulfur content was a little higher than she would have liked, but she suspected the volcanic action was responsible. It took little research to realize that there had been a major eruption on this world in the last few decades, probably on the scale of Krakatoa on Earth. It was quite apparent that so much ash and debris had been thrown into the air that no growing season had occurred in the next year, and the growth of vegetation had been so severely affected that it was only beginning to recover.
Tarn hoped that meant there would be no further eruptions ... at least, not in the near future. She debated whether to go outside, conscious of how close the walls of the escape pod were and how cramped her quarters were. A quick glance outside revealed that the sun was much lower in the sky than when she landed, making it late in the day. She decided she would remain inside for the night, and explore her surroundings further when she had full daylight.
In the meantime, she activated one of the bunks on the rear wall, letting it drop open and making it up from the linens provided in another compartment. After that was complete, she took a seat in the pilot's chair and activated the onboard computer, instructing it to record. For the next hour, she recited the facts as she knew them, from the time she had been instructed to go to astrometrics to retrieve a chart, to this very moment, including the identity of her attacker and her speculation about why he might have been tampering with the communications packet. She knew she needed to get it all down while the details were fresh in her memory, as well as make a permanent record in case something happened to her. She filed it under as many security seals as she knew, which admittedly, weren't many, and hoped that whoever found it, in the event she didn't have a chance to present it directly to the captain, would be someone on the side of Starfleet.
By the time she was finished, the sun had set and darkness had crept across the bleak landscape. She didn't activate the internal lights, choosing, instead, to sit in the dim illumination as she stared out through the front transparencies and watched a moon rise over the horizon. A second one, not much larger than the first, rose twenty minutes later. She wondered how much their gravitational pull affected the planetary crust, perhaps causing the seismic instability of the planet.
Concentrating on scientific puzzles kept her from thinking about her situation, and how very alone and afraid she felt.
Kathryn Janeway lay in the darkness just before morning watch, staring at the dim shadows of the bedroom around her. Cradled in her arms, Seven lay in restless slumber, twitching occasionally as she responded to dreams that undoubtedly verged on nightmares. The captain hoped her presence was comforting, but somehow she doubted it. There would be little that would comfort Seven at this point. After twenty-three years, her mother, Erin Hansen, had been rescued from the Collective, and now her daughter was trying to come to terms with that new reality. Janeway wasn't sure what the outcome of the situation would be, but she knew her beloved spouse was in for a difficult time in the interim.
She closed her eyes and rested her cheek against the top of Seven's head, rubbing it lightly along the soft cushion of her hair. Slowly, she became aware that she was murmuring something, talking in her sleep. It was a behavior that Janeway had never encountered before with her. Barely audible, Seven spoke aloud, and Janeway had to strain to detect exactly what she was saying.
"No ... Mama ... no ..."
Suddenly, Seven jerked, a convulsive movement that instinctively caused Janeway to tighten her embrace, trying to stem the uncontrolled motion, though Seven's greater physical strength made that futile. At best, Janeway was only able to hang on until she had stilled.
"It's okay, darling," she said quietly, hoping her voice would penetrate the fog of sleep. "I'm right here. Nothing's going to hurt you."
Seven blinked in the dim illumination, her eyes muddled, wide and fearful. It took a few seconds before she focused on her partner, and a few more before the frightened expression gradually left her narrow features.
"Kathryn?"
Janeway brushed her lips over Seven's forehead. "Bad dream?"
Seven exhaled and pressed closer, turning so that her face was tucked into the hollow of Janeway's throat, her voice slightly muffled.
"I was dreaming of the day my parents and I were assimilated."
Janeway felt a very real pain in the vicinity of her heart, but she tried to keep her voice calm. "That's perfectly understandable, considering what's going on."
"It may be understandable, but it is not pleasant," Seven replied shortly.
"No," Janeway agreed softly. "I don't suspect it is."
There was a pause, a brief moment in which Seven clung to her tightly, and Janeway was glad to indulge the protective embrace, holding her comfortingly, though disturbed at this blatant display of neediness from her normally strong and excessively composed spouse. Yet, as much as Janeway wanted to 'fix' this, to find a way to make it completely right, it was beyond her abilities, both as captain and as Seven's partner. The most she could do was offer her full and unconditional support, and be the shelter that Seven would undoubtedly seek when things became too complicated for her.
"Kathryn?"
"Yes, love?"
"How must I respond to this?"
Janeway pulled her closer.
"You'll know when it's time," she said as reassuringly as she could. "Try not to analyze it too much, Annika. This is something that you'll probably have to figure out as you go along, based on Erin's responses to you. Besides, I don't think any daughter really knows how to deal with her mother, no matter what the circumstances. Mothers always have a way of surprising you. Just remember how adaptable you are. That's one of your strengths."
Seven was silent for a moment, then seemed to relax marginally. "I will try." Her tone was uncertain, but her body had lost the tautness it had displayed since waking from her dream.
Janeway nuzzled her lightly. "I know you will."
The lights came up with the announcement from the computer heralding morning watch and Seven pulled away, sitting up on the side of the mattress. Janeway rose to one elbow, reaching out with her other hand to draw her fingertips soothingly down the long, elegant length of Seven's bare back.
"Darling?"
Seven glanced over her shoulder, an eyebrow raised inquiringly.
"I'm here for you," Janeway said intently, meeting that pale blue gaze squarely. "You can come to me at any time, no matter what else is happening."
Seven tilted her head. "Even during a red alert?"
Janeway smiled faintly, but her tone remained serious. "Even then," she said, though that was unlikely and they both knew it. It was the thought that counted, however, and Seven's icy blue eyes softened.
"Thank you, Kathryn."
Rising gracefully from the bed, Seven reached out and picked up a crimson robe, drawing it over her body and concealing it from view. She did not look back as she entered the bathroom, the door sliding shut behind her, and Janeway slumped back onto the pillows, rubbing her eyes tiredly with her fingers. She wondered why, of all the spheres in the Collective, Millennium had encountered the one containing Seven's mother. The irony of it was too painful to contemplate.
She sighed and forced herself to roll out of bed. Disdaining her robe, she padded naked into the ensuite where the vibration from Seven's sonic shower set her teeth on edge. Ignoring it as best she could, she stepped into the stall next to the sonic unit, activating the hydro controls and luxuriating under the rush of warm water that erupted, splashing over her body and drowning out most of the vibration from next door. She shampooed her hair lavishly, rinsed it and shut the unit down, stepping out of the cubicle to retrieve a large, fluffy towel from the rack beside her. As she briskly dried herself off, she watched the ever efficient Seven, already dressed in her uniform, putting her long, blonde hair up in a tight bun. As the Borg fastened two golden pips onto her collar, she met Janeway's gaze in the long mirror over the sink counter, appearing slightly bemused by the scrutiny.
"Kathryn?"
Janeway flipped the towel back onto the rack to dry and moved over to the counter where a uniform was pressed and ready, a pair of boots resting neatly on the floor beneath. As she began to dress, she looked over at her spouse.
"I'm a little worried about you, love," she said, trying to keep the words light. "But I don't mean to nag you about it."
"I understand, Kathryn, but I will adapt to this situation as I have so many others." She left the ensuite without saying anything further.
Janeway should have been content with that, but she wasn't. Sighing, she finished dressing and followed her.
Out in the living area, Seven had already prepared breakfast, not bothering to ask Janeway what she wanted, merely replicating some waffles, bacon and toast automatically and putting them on the table. Janeway didn't protest, accepting the choices as she sat down at the table, though she had been more in the mood for an omelet. As she forked into the offering, she scanned a padd containing reports from the beta and gamma shifts.
There wasn't anything out of the ordinary. The starship continued its exploration of the Delta Quadrant. Sensors hadn't detected anything unusual in the space around or ahead of them. Later in the day, the ship would pause momentarily and create a small slipstream conduit. A communications torpedo would be fired into it, the probe exiting near the Bajoran Badlands and DS9 where Starfleet would recover it. It was the last communication packet scheduled to be sent. Next month, the ship would be returning home to the Federation, its year-long mission of exploration ended.
Janeway wasn't entirely sure how she felt about it. On one hand, it would be good to be home for awhile, to be in familiar space and connect with family and friends. On the other hand, there was still so much to explore in the Delta Quadrant, and she felt a familiarity with it that perhaps another captain wouldn't. She didn't know what Starfleet had in mind for their next assignment, but a large part of her hoped to return to this part of space, to continue this venture into the deeper regions of the unknown.
Of course, it might be beneficial for Seven to go home and spend a month or so in Indiana, she mused, sneaking a glance at her partner. Seven's relationship with her mother-in-law was deeply devoted, and Janeway suspected that Gretchen's level-headed approach to any situation would be far better for Seven's peace of mind at this time than Kathryn's inherent desire to make things right. Not to mention Phoebe's ability to make Seven laugh. They were as much her mother and sister as they were Janeway's, and Seven probably needed that sense of family right now.
Perhaps more than she needed one with the woman lying in sickbay. Though there was undeniably a connection there, no matter how much Seven tried to deny it, it was far from a typical bond between mother and daughter.
Seven rose from the table and put her dirty dishes into the recycler, running them through before replacing them in the cabinet set in the wall. Moving over to the counter, she mechanically prepared a thermos, placing it next to the door for Janeway to pick up on her way out, and then returned to the bedroom to finish her preparations. The captain knew the domestic routine the couple had in place was extremely soothing to the Borg. It was soothing to Janeway, as well, granting her the sense that things were normal, that everything was completely under control, especially if she didn't think beyond the moment.
Shaking her head ruefully, Janeway finished up her breakfast, lingering over her coffee as she completed her scan of the night watch reports. She raised her head as Seven dropped a kiss on her forehead on the way out to the science department. A little later, the captain exited the turbolift on deck one, the thermos tucked snugly under her arm, and glanced around her ready room briefly before placing the coffee on her desk. She felt the familiar surge of confidence as she stepped out onto the bridge.
This was her domain, Janeway's ultimate place of power. She still felt a little thrill in the pit of her stomach when she moved over to her command chair and settled into it, surveying her surroundings possessively. Perhaps she shouldn't be so affected after all this time, but it was equally possible that if that tiny thrill left, it would be time for her to leave as well. Perhaps that was why her counterpart in another universe, Kathryn Johnson, had lost her captaincy before desperately doing everything in her power to get it back. It was even possible, Janeway mused idly, that in yet other realities, her other selves had walked away from starship command for good after returning Voyager to the Alpha Quadrant, though she found that hard to imagine.
This was the only reality that mattered, and here, Janeway knew exactly who she was and what she wanted, in no small part because of the influence Seven of Nine had exerted on her life since being severed from the Collective. No matter what else happened between her and spouse, Janeway would always be profoundly grateful to Seven for that.
"Captain?"
Janeway blinked, chasing away her uncharacteristic flights of fancy, and focused her attention on her first officer, Zar Tulek, the Bajoran/Cardassian hybrid. Even though her chair was on the upper deck, as opposed to the pit where his station was located, he was tall enough that they were at eye level as he stood before her.
"Good morning, Commander," she said. "Anything I need to know?" They were speaking in low tones, and the rest of the bridge crew politely and professionally ignored the conversation between the two most senior officers on the ship.
"We need to take a moment to go over the latest security reports. Then I need your input on the bridge protective shield project."
Janeway nodded. A new modification in the ship's integrity field had individual force fields snapping into place around the bridge stations during unexpected or violent ship maneuvers. It was designed to prevent injury to those officers guiding the vessel, but, unfortunately, it also restricted the crew's freedom of movement at times when such abilities might be crucial. She had assigned a maintenance team to check out possible alterations of the modification, but since Zar needed her input, it was obvious they had run into a problem of some kind.
"All right," she said. "I'll schedule a meeting for eleven hundred."
The two officers went over a few more minor details before Zar went back to his station and Janeway settled in to supervise the alpha shift. A little later, she retired to her ready room to work on departmental reports before taking the meeting with Zar and the head of the maintenance team. Lunch was eaten at her desk and she used the rest of the afternoon to work on her own projects. She didn't contact Seven, nor did Seven contact her, but Janeway did occasionally check with the computer and determined that while her partner had spent most of the day in the science labs, she had visited sickbay on three separate occasions. To no avail since a hail to the medical center revealed that Erin Hansen remained unconscious. The captain knew that would do little to ease Seven's mind, and she anticipated another restless night from her spouse.
At the end of her duty shift, she and Zar went over the next day's duty roster as the alpha crew was relieved by the beta. Because the shuffle of officers entering and exiting the bridge made for very crowded conditions, both senior officers preferred to wait until the shift change was complete before taking their leave. It took a few moments after the bridge had cleared before anyone realized something was amiss, and it was T'Shanik, the ship's chief operations officer, who brought it to the attention of the senior officers.
"Captain?"
Janeway lifted her head and look over at T'Shanik who remained at tactical, obviously requiring some assistance. Zar followed her gaze and frowned.
"That's odd. Normally, Tarn is here to relieve her post early."
"Yes," Janeway agreed. "Hoping to impress us." She was not being sarcastic, merely honest about the young ensign's desire to reclaim her posting on the alpha shift, and hoping to accomplish it by a continual display of enthusiasm and professionalism. "This isn't like her at all."
The two officers moved over to T'Shanik who looked faintly bemused as she studied her operations panel. "I have attempted to contact Ensign Tarn several times," she explained. "There is no response to my hails, and deeper investigation reveals that her lifesigns have not been detected by the ship's internal sensors since oh one fifteen hundred hours."
"What?"
Shocked, Janeway leaned over, peering at the data over her shoulder. "It says here that she's in the science labs."
"At least, her comm badge is," Zar agreed sagely.
The captain raised her eyes to meet the Cardassian's. "Commander, have a security team meet you there and find out what happened."
"I'm on my way."
As Zar strode briskly in the direction of the turbolift, Janeway looked back a T'Shanik. "Do you have any theories about this, Lieutenant? I know you and she are friends."
T'Shanik lifted a thin dark brow. "We are not friends," she said calmly, but with certainty. "We merely interacted within a social setting on occasion."
Janeway stared at her for a moment, surprised by the sharp...for a Vulcan...words. Despite her familiarity with Vulcans, she was the first to admit that she didn't entirely understand them. "If you think of anything, inform Commander Zar immediately. In the meantime, have Ensign Westlock relieve you."
"Aye, Captain."
Frowning, Janeway turned and looked back over her bridge. She had no idea what Tarn had managed to fall into now, and a sense of deep foreboding filled her mind. Whatever it was, the captain doubted very much that it meant good things for her ship.
Erin Hansen had been only thirty-six when she was assimilated, with a beloved husband and a six-year-old daughter. After twenty-three years, she seemed to have barely aged at all. A side effect of assimilation, Seven knew, though hardly one that would recommend it as a way to prolong one's youthful appearance. She found it difficult to breathe evenly as she looked down at this stranger who was her mother, the slender form curled up under the sheet in a fetal position, as if she were a child. It looked unnatural to Seven who was seated in the chair next to the biobed where sensors maintained a steady monitor on the woman's lifesigns.
"Seven?"
Startled that she hadn't detected the other's presence ... a clear indication she was seriously distracted ... Seven looked up to see Dr. Lewis. Originally the Emergency Medical Hologram installed on Voyager, the computer program had achieved sentience and, eventually, Federation citizenship, now serving as a civilian physician in sickbay. He and Seven had known each other for a long time, and she valued his friendship greatly.
"Doctor," she said, watching him as the sparse man leaned over Erin, scanning her with a medical probe and glancing over the results reading out on the console nearby, though he made no move to straighten the woman or otherwise reposition her in the bed so that it would be easier to scan her. "Why is she still unconscious? It has been more than a week."
"I'm not sure, Seven," he admitted quietly. "She's been through a terrible trauma. There's bound to be unforeseen consequences."
"Are you saying that there is no medical reason for this?"
He put away his tricorder and focused his attention on Seven, his dark eyes intent. "I'm saying that medical science doesn't know everything. This is completely new. No one, to my knowledge, has ever been assimilated for this long as an adult. The psychological repercussions..."
"This is a mental aberration?" Seven interrupted, appalled. She wasn't sure why that was so horrible to her ... except perhaps that she didn't understand it, which made it frightening in the extreme.
"You need to speak with Kes," he advised with a sigh. "I can only look after the physical deprivation that your mother is suffering. The ship's counselor has taken over the rest of her case."
Seven began to respond and then paused as she heard the doors to sickbay hiss open. Turning her head, she felt a decided sense of relief when she saw it was the captain. It was so strong, in fact, that she didn't even mind that Janeway was accompanied by the ship's counselor. She didn't have the fondest of feelings for Kes, though she was much less antipathetic to the Ocampa than she used to be. She rose to her feet and felt warmed when Janeway immediately slipped her arm around her waist, holding her spouse comfortingly as she looked down at Erin with a compassionate expression.
"Kes has been telling me that Erin may take a long time to recover."
Seven blinked and stared accusingly at Kes who had the grace to look guilty. "I'm sorry, Seven, I should have spoken with you first," she said in a soothing tone. "The captain stopped by my office on her way to sickbay, and we've been discussing your mother's case."
"Why has this happened?" Seven demanded, a pressure building in her chest. "What is wrong with her? Why does she not wake?"
Janeway squeezed her tightly, stemming the rush of words as she tried to ease Seven's anxiety. "Let's take this into Pulaski's office," she suggested quietly. "Kes can fill you in."
Leaving the Doctor to look after his patient, they moved into the CMO's office. Transparencies looked out into sickbay, and Seven stood before them, arms crossed over her chest as she stared at her mother, waiting for the ship's counselor to answer her questions. She was aware of Janeway resuming her place at her side, hugging the Borg comfortingly.
"Erin is in a kind of catatonic state, Seven," Kes told her in a sympathetic tone. Seven didn't want to look at her. She was angry with the counselor, as if this was somehow her fault, though she knew that was illogical. "It's the result both of being assimilated and then of suddenly being severed from the Collective over twenty years later. Erin doesn't want to wake up. She's not prepared to deal with reality yet."
"Others did not develop this mental aberration after being severed from the Collective," Seven said tightly. She felt barely in control, wanting to scream, to strike out at random. "There are many case records on file where assimilated Federation citizens experienced a quick recovery after being rescued from the Borg, including the captain."
Kes lifted her eyebrow. "They hadn't been joined to the Collective mind for nearly as long as Erin. It was easier for them to remember their previous lives, to regain their sense of self and resume their existence as individuals. Even then, Seven, most of those victims still experienced psychological side-effects for a significant period of time afterward, from nightmares to mood swings to actual psychotic episodes. The physical healing is actually the easiest part of the recovery."
"Yet, Seven was also assimilated for an extended period of time," Janeway pointed out, "She didn't take this long to regain consciousness." Her expression, as she stared through the transparency, was one that combined pity and horror in equal measure ... perhaps because she could easily imagine her partner as that slight form lying in the room if only the circumstances had been different.
"Seven is unique," Kes explained patiently. "First, she was assimilated as a child and grew up in the Collective. Those individuals who were raised as Borg, such as 'Hugh' from the Enterprise and the Borg children recovered during Voyager's journey, are far more adaptive than adults. Secondly, Seven was tapped as a potential replacement for the Borg queen, which provided her a different type of experience within the Collective."
Seven lifted her chin. "I remember..." she said haltingly, "the holographic queen said that my independence had been nurtured by the Collective rather than eliminated. The program was written so that the queen retained a certain individuality after being activated."
"As a mere drone, Erin Hansen was not subject to that 'nurturing'," Kes said. "She was completely absorbed into the hive mind, her individuality wiped away completely. After more than twenty years of having every emotion brutally suppressed, of thinking only of what the Collective did, there's very little left to fall back on." She reached out and put a comforting hand on Seven's arm. "Don't get me wrong, Seven, it's not hopeless. Millennium simply lacks the proper facilities for that sort of long-term treatment. There are many places in the Alpha Quadrant where she can receive the necessary care and attention. It's entirely possible that Erin will eventually reclaim some part of her life."
"There are no guarantees of that," Seven said flatly.
Kes hesitated, then inclined her head. "No, there aren't."
"We should have left her with the Borg. That was my initial decision, but it was overridden by Commander Zar."
Disturbed, Janeway looked at her spouse. "Seven..."
"No, Kathryn," Seven said coldly, staring at the being who was her mother. "What is she now? She cannot comprehend, she cannot respond to stimuli, she cannot even feed herself. She is less than an animal."
Janeway started to respond, an outraged expression on her face, before she stopped and caught herself. Tightening the grip on Seven's waist, the warmth of her arm penetrating Seven's uniform tunic, she regarded her steadily. "She's a human being, Seven," she said softly, in her most persuasive tone. "Erin may not be aware of her individuality now, but with time, she may regain it. You have to give her that chance. It wasn't wrong to remove her from the Collective."
Seven pulled away from her spouse. "I suspect if it were Gretchen in there, you would think differently," she said, her voice quivering.
Janeway absorbed the comment without flinching. "Mother would fight for her life. It may not seem as if Erin can at the moment, but we can't tell. We have no way of knowing what's going on inside her mind, in her subconscious ... in her soul. You can't expect so much of her so soon. It's not fair to her, and it's definitely not fair to you."
"None of this is fair," Seven said angrily.
"No, it isn't," Janeway said gently. "It would have been wonderful if Erin had adapted to being severed from the Collective as you did, or even as the Mimic pretended to do. Unfortunately, that didn't happen, but your mother might resume her life one day. It will simply take more time than any of us anticipated."
"What if she must spend the rest of her existence like that?" Seven spat, gesturing at the transparency. "How is that better than being a Borg drone? At least, as a member of the Collective, she was functional, she contributed to the perfection of the whole."
"What about the quality of life, Seven?" Janeway demanded sternly. "While a cog may contribute to the whole, if that cog is sentient and, on some level, conscious of being a cog, is that not some kind of hell? Where's the quality, then? Don't forget, I was also assimilated. I know there is some measure of awareness there, a sense of sheer helplessness that's impossible to change. It was unbearable, and I was assimilated for less than a day. I can't imagine what it must have been like to be helpless for 23 years. I will say this; regardless of how long it took me to recover, I would rather be dead than be returned to that state." Her voice had grown harder the longer she spoke, edging into the coldness of command. She must have become aware of it because she caught herself and resumed her patient expression.
"Seven, I know this must be hell for you. I know it's far more difficult to stand by and watch helplessly when someone you love is so vulnerable, but darling, there are options back in the Federation, and we'll be returning there in a month. Grant yourself the hope and the possibilities those options can provide."
Seven swallowed hard. "Why must I place her in a facility?" she said, turning her head and looking directly at Kes for the first time. "Why can I not take care of her?"
Kes took a step closer. "You lack the necessary skills to treat such a condition.'
"I could learn."
"Yes, you could," Kes agreed evenly, "but the time it would take wouldn't benefit your mother. I want to begin treatment immediately. As next of kin, I require your permission." She paused and put her hand warmly on her shoulder. "Seven, you can still contribute to her care. You need to visit her often, to speak with her about yourself and how much you care for her. It may not seem as if she can hear it, and she may not respond to it on any visible level, but it is entirely possible that she does realize you're there."
"Kes is right," Janeway said quietly. "You may not be able to provide the solution, darling, but you can certainly contribute to it. You're not a failure because you can't fix this."
Seven exhaled slowly, not wanting to accept her partner's advice, but unable to deny the validity of it. Was that partially the cause of her deep distress? That she could not determine a course of action that would immediately solve this problem? Was she so much like her partner in that way? Or was it because there was a part of her that wanted to interact with Erin Hansen again, to get to know her as she had while encountering other versions of her? Had she developed a bond with her mother, despite herself, over the past seven days?
"Let's go home," Janeway added, studying Seven and undoubtedly seeing the dismay and confusion in her face. "We'll talk about it further. Nothing has to be decided this very minute."
Seven hesitated for a few seconds before nodding reluctantly. "Very well," she said unhappily.
Seven did not speak as they returned to their quarters on deck three. Inside, she took a seat on the sofa and gazed out the viewport at the stars streaking by, not really seeing them. Janeway busied herself at the work console, speaking in a low voice to someone for several moments before finally moving over to join Seven on the couch. They sat in silence for a time holding hands, their fingers entwined warmly. Despite her misery, Seven was impressed with how much Janeway was containing herself. Undoubtedly, she was full of all kinds of suggestions and advice about how to handle the revelations about Erin, but she did not offer any, allowing Seven the space and time to work this out.
Yet, that didn't feel like the right thing at this moment. The pressure in Seven's chest remained, a tight ball of distress and uncertainty. And anger. Why would Janeway not help her with this decision?
"What would you have me do?" she finally prompted.
Janeway shook her head. "That's not for me to say. Just know that whatever you decide, I'm with you one hundred percent."
Seven lifted her chin, but did not look at her partner.
"Even if I decide to return her to the Collective?"
"It looks as if someone was tampering with the communications packet."
Zar frowned as he looked at the ship's chief engineer who was going over the readout from her tricorder. B'Elanna Torres was a Klingon/Human hybrid, short and solid with a high, ridged forehead framed by a dark mane of thick, wavy hair. Her personality ran the gamut from the cold mathematical precision of an engineer to the flaming temperament of a true artiste, making for a volatile combination. After a shaky start, the two, Cardassian and Klingon, had achieved a working relationship and even a certain civility toward the other, but Zar knew it was unlikely that they would ever be friends.
"Do you think it was Tarn?"
B'Elanna shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. I think information was added to the packet, and it appears to be threaded throughout the entire data stream. It would take a communications expert to do it. Or to spot it if you weren't looking for it."
"Tarn is a communications expert."
B'Elanna finally lifted her head, meeting his eyes. "I know, but that doesn't explain why she's disappeared."
"I don't think she disappeared voluntarily."
Zar and B'Elanna glanced over as Ro Laren appeared in the doorway. The ship's chief of security looked angry, the Bajoran ridge at the top of her nose more pronounced than usual.
"What did you find?" Zar demanded.
"This." Ro handed the first officer a communicator badge. It appeared to have been ripped from someone's tunic, rather than simply removed. There was a shred of black cloth caught on the back fastening. "My guess is that Tarn interrupted whoever was tampering with the probe and they panicked. The nearest bay is empty. The evidence indicates she was placed into the escape pod and launched into space during the early part of the gamma shift while the science labs were offline for the night."
"Why didn't the ship detect the launch?"
"The system was bypassed."
"Do you think she's dead?" Zar tried not to think of the bright young ensign as a lifeless corpse.
Ro considered it. "Maybe. But there isn't any indication of blood or violence. A phaser couldn't be used without leaving some residual trace, even if the body was disintegrated." She paused. "Launching an escape pod with someone in it, dead or alive, only draws attention to the area. That's why I think whoever did it, panicked."
"Why leave the comm badge behind? To leave her ID marker on the ship so it would seem as if she were still around?"
"I don't think so. If the assailant knew about it, it would be easier to put it somewhere else on the ship, away from the science labs. I think it was missed by Tarn's assailant. It was lying on the deck, at the base of the doors to the pod bay. It may have been torn from her tunic as she was placed in the escape pod. It's too bad no one had reason to hail her before this."
Zar felt a little guilty. For the ship's cycle to go through a couple of duty shifts before an officer was missed was bad, but not as bad as it could have been had Tarn not been assigned to the bridge. Millennium was large enough that there were a few crewmembers who could disappear for days before their absence was noticed.
"I need to speak with the captain."
He moved over to the nearest console and activated the internal ship's communication system. He hoped he wasn't interrupting Janeway, who he suspected was currently with Seven. The captain had probably gone to sickbay as soon as she left the bridge. Otherwise, Zar was pretty sure she would be down in the science labs with the rest of them, overseeing the investigation personally.
It took a moment before Janeway responded. Behind her, he recognized the unmistakable surroundings of her quarters in the viewscreen.
"Janeway here."
"Captain, we believe we have some answers, but also more questions." He filled her in on all they had discovered.
"Does this have anything to do with the sabotage in main engineering?"
Zar glanced at Ro who frowned at the question. She thought about it for a second, and dipped her head marginally, indicating she thought it entirely possible.
"Probably, Captain," he admitted. "It would be an odd coincidence if it doesn't."
Janeway nodded. "Our first order of business is to track down our missing crewmember. Commander, I want you and Torres to take one of the delta flyers and find that escape pod. Paris can pilot. No one's better at finding navigational traces than Tom."
Zar raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Captain? That leaves the ship without its first officer, its chief engineer and its wing commander. Don't you..."
"Tulek, I don't know who's behind this," she interrupted in a low voice. "Except that it's someone in my crew. I'm left with utilizing only the people I know I can trust. If that's limited to the senior officers at the moment, then the ship will just have to get along without you for awhile."
Zar exhaled, warmed by the compliment that included him in that select group, even as he worried about the implications.
"All right, Captain," he said. "We'll depart as soon as possible."
"Let me speak with Ro."
Zar gave way to the Bajoran, moving over to B'Elanna.
"You heard?"
"I did." Her face was serious, but there was a small glint of humor in her dark eyes when she glanced sideways at him. "Not exactly an away team I would choose."
"Maybe that's why she chose us," Zar allowed easily. He waited until Ro had finished with the captain and then drew her aside. "Commander, do you have this under control?" He gestured around him, indicating the lab, and to the larger extent, the ship itself.
"Oh, yes." Ro's eyes were dark pools of anger and determination. "I'll take care of this. By the time you return, Commander, I'll have the culprit in custody."
Zar wondered at that, but he didn't say anything further. He knew how frustrating this situation had been for her. If sheer willpower could solve the case, he had no doubt it would have been wrapped up in a day. Unfortunately, desire and hard work didn't always uncover a criminal. Sometimes it took catching a lucky break of some sort. "Torres, you're with me."
"Right behind you."
Of course, she wasn't. She took a brief moment to say good-bye to Ro. The security chief and chief engineer were married, and both women knew this could be dangerous for the other. Zar waited by the door until the couple was finished, and then strode briskly through the corridors to the Alpha Hangar with B'Elanna matching him stride for stride. Tom Paris was already waiting by the Delta Sky.
"Want to fill me in?" Paris demanded as he stowed a bag in a compartment next to the door after the away team entered the shuttle.
"We've lost an officer," Zar said shortly as he took his place at the tactical station behind the pilot's chair, activating the board as Paris began his pre-launch sequence. "Last night, one of our escape pods was launched, completely undetected by ship's sensors. We need to find it. We believe Ensign Tarn is inside."
Paris frowned, glancing over his shoulder, but he didn't ask any further questions. Undoubtedly, he would wait until they were in space to hear the rest of the story. Zar glanced over to B'Elanna at the operations station beside him. She offered a small nod in acknowledgment of his unspoken question. "We're set here," he instructed Paris. "Let's go."
"Millennium has granted us clearance to depart," Paris responded, his hands moving over his helm with the delicacy of a pianist with his instrument.
Zar felt the slight hum of impulse engines as the vessel lifted off its landing bay, turning gracefully in the air and drifting toward the end of the hangar. Large doors opened to reveal the dark backdrop of stars, shimmering slightly through the force field that held vacuum at bay. There was a tiny jolt as they slipped through the energy barrier, and then they were clear of Millennium, floating alone in space as the larger ship moved away. Tom immediately set a course to backtrack the starship's trail, bringing the navigational sensors online. Activating the warp engines, he prodded them higher with consummate skill until the flyer was traveling at full velocity. It would take nearly a day at warp seven to reach the spot where the escape pod had apparently been launched. Then, they would begin the painstaking task of tracking the tiny pod's ion signature to the nearest, M-class planet.
Zar hoped that Tarn was safe and would remain out of danger. He didn't want this mission to be the recovery of any remains.
"So what's this all about?" Paris asked, his eyes keen as he surveyed his console.
"We believe that Ensign Tarn interrupted someone tampering with the communications probe last night."
"Tampering how?"
"It looks like someone added a whole lot of information to the data stream," B'Elanna explained. "But it was in an encrypted pattern, disguised as part of the program. Like a secret communication of some kind. I didn't have time to decode it before we were ordered to find Tarn."
"Why would someone do that?"
It occurred to Zar suddenly that not all the senior officers were aware that the incident in main engineering was not an accident, but rather sabotage caused deliberately by persons unknown.
"It may have been a communication intended for someone other than Starfleet Command," he confided. "Data being passed on to a third party without Starfleet being the wiser. It may have been happening since we left the Alpha Quadrant."
"You mean someone's been spying on us? The Romulans?"
"Could be the Breen," B'Elanna said. "Heck, it could even be the Orion Syndicate."
"Or Section 31." Paris's face became grim and Zar frowned, wondering at the comment. He couldn't remember the captain ever mentioning something like that.
"What's Section 31?"
He was aware of B'Elanna and Paris turning to stare at him in surprise. The helmsman's face cleared first. "I forgot, not every knows about them," he said thoughtfully. "And that it's classified."
Zar tilted his head. "Lieutenant?"
Paris and B'Elanna exchanged glances, and then the Klingon shrugged. "Might as well tell him. I always thought the whole classified nature of the thing worked against Starfleet anyway. The more people know about the bastards, the less room they have to operate."
She took a breath, and for the remainder of the journey to the sector where Tarn had been ejected into space, she explained about the covert operatives in Starfleet's organization.
And the trouble they had caused the captain and Seven in the years prior to Millennium's launch.
"Contact me as soon as you have anything new."
"I will, Captain," Ro said, her dark eyes intent.
Janeway reached for the controls, paused, and dipped her head. "I know you'll solve this, Laren," she said somberly. "I have complete faith in you."
Perhaps it hadn't needed to be said, but there was undoubtedly a lift to Ro's shoulders, an alteration in that fierce gaze as the captain switched off the viewscreen. There was such fine line with subordinates, Janeway mused. Sometimes a superior's encouragement could make all the difference. Knowing when and where to use it meant the difference between getting the most out of a crew and having them offer less than their best effort. With officers such as Ro Laren, who was so enigmatic, it was an accomplishment of note when a captain was able to use her position of authority correctly.
Feeling inordinately pleased with herself, she turned around only to have the sense of satisfaction immediately disappear as she saw the expression on Seven's narrow features. Somehow Janeway doubted that any amount of encouragement would solve the problem facing her now. Moving over to join Seven, who was staring distantly out through the viewport, Janeway quietly sat beside her on the sofa and took Seven's hand into her own, gripping it tightly, though she didn't say anything. A wealth of comments and suggestions crowded her mind, but she didn't allow any of them to spill out. As much as she wanted to help, this was Seven's mother, and Seven's decision regarding the situation. A starship captain may appear omnipotent at times, but when it came to family, blood had to take priority over rank or the chain of command.
"What would you have me do?" Seven asked finally.
Janeway shook her head. "That's not for me to say," she told her, though she regretted passing up the opportunity to voice her opinion. "Just know that whatever you decide, I'm with you one hundred percent."
"Even if I decide to return her to the Collective?"
The captain thought she had every contingency covered. That one surprised her, and she had to forcibly restrain herself from responding hotly. One thing marriage had taught her was how to curb that quick tongue of hers when it came to touchy issues. The pain she had caused her partner over the years with words spoken in haste had impressed prudence in her soul in a way that all the lessons her parents and teachers had tried to instill simply hadn't managed. Once she was sure both voice and facial expression were under control, she reached up and took Seven's chin between her forefinger and thumb, turning her head toward her so that she was looking into the icy blue eyes.
"Is that really an option?"
Seven's jaw firmed. Janeway could see a muscle twitching in the side of the long, elongated neck. "It is," she said in that tight little voice she had been using more and more since this whole situation had begun. "Certainly, it is an option you would have been forced to consider had I had been assimilated a third time during my last mission."
"If it meant your survival..."
"It may mean my mother's survival," Seven interrupted stubbornly. "Certainly, her continued function as a useful contributor to the whole."
"You're mother is physically recovering from her assimilation," Janeway objected. "She may even recover mentally. A third assimilation would have been the last for you. My only other choice would have been not to return you to the Collective."
The starkness in her voice was evident to Seven, as was her meaning. A blonde eyebrow rose sardonically. "That is certainly another option."
Janeway was furious. Seven was pushing her buttons, and there was even a part of her that understood she was doing it deliberately, but it didn't make her temper run any less hot.
"You're not going to terminate your own mother!"
Rising to her feet, she stalked about the room as Seven watched her with lowered brows from her place on the sofa. There was the faintest trace of a satisfied expression around the brilliant blue eyes, a sort of smugness that she had managed to provoke Janeway into a response when she had so clearly wanted to remain objective. Janeway didn't know what she was more annoyed with; the situation, or Seven trying to pass on a decision that only she should make.
"Do you want me to tell you that I'm taking your mother back to the Federation no matter what you want?" she demanded, glowering at her. "That I'm making it an order?" She paused. "Or do you just want to be angry at someone, and I'm convenient?"
"You said this was my decision to make," Seven said coldly. "Erin Hansen would be more useful in the Collective. She is not useful now."
Janeway paused and considered her responses, knowing which one would be effective. That was the other side effect of their being married for so long. She knew how to slice through that glacier logic in a way no one else could.
"I guess I'm lucky my recovery from my assimilation didn't take too long or I'd be back with the Borg. I just didn't know how easily you give up on people." Her tone was cutting, almost cruel, as she put her hands on her hips and favored Seven with a hard glare.
It shattered the composure Seven was stubbornly maintaining, and not for the first time nor undoubtedly, for the last, Janeway felt like a complete heel. But it was part of her commitment to her partner. To say the harsh things when they needed to be said, just as Seven forced Janeway to look at herself when she was being overwhelmed with a situation with no easy answers. Her heart ached when she saw Seven's head lower, the narrow shoulders slumping, but she stood her ground, until she saw the tiny tears tracking down her cheeks. That was all that was needed to bring her over to the sofa in a rush, gathering her up in her arms and holding her close.
"Darling, I'm sorry. I'm just ... I'm trying to demonstrate that you have choices, that there are many options for you to pursue. But it's not up to me to make the choice of what to do for you."
"It will be too late to return her to the Collective once we return to the Alpha Quadrant," Seven said in a choked voice. "That option must be considered immediately."
Janeway took a slow, measured breath. "All right, that's fair," she said, knowing Seven had forced her hand. It was so difficult to remain objective with Seven, especially when she was hurting. "As your spouse, I'm prepared to stand by any decision you make. But as a Starfleet officer and captain, I cannot condone the return of a Federation citizen to the Borg Collective. It would cost me my command." She cupped Seven's cheek in her palm. "I've told you many times in the past that I'm prepared to give that up for you. Is this how and why you want me to do it?"
Seven hesitated. Obviously, it was an unfair question, but then, Janeway knew it was important for Seven to start considering the long term consequences of all her options. Right now, she was still in a little bit of shock, trying to make quick decisions in a crisis; unsurprising since that was how she'd been taught over the past five years. It was the nature of their life in Starfleet to make quick decisions based on the information at hand. But it was equally important to know when to step back and take it one thing at a time. Seven was reacting mostly on instinct and emotion at the moment, rather than with rational consideration, despite what she might think she was doing.
"No," Seven said finally. "Very well. I cannot return her." Janeway heard her breath catch. "I can terminate the drone."
Janeway thought that only with Seven would this even be discussed. It was times like this that she was reminded how alien she really was, how different her thought processes were compared to Humans. It would be natural for Janeway to want to wipe out that part of her personality, to demand that Seven react to situations in a way that did not allow for her Borg conditioning. In fact, Janeway had even tried to curb the behavior in the beginning, but Seven's personality and strength of will had been so strong that she had failed. Janeway was grateful for that failure. The Borg part of Seven was integral to who she was, and was, indeed, a part of why the captain loved her so much. While it meant dealing with the occasional unfathomable viewpoint from her, it also allowed Seven to accept Janeway's nature in a way that no other could.
Seven raised her head, her eyes brimming. "Is that something you will object to as well?"
"I'd rather you offer your own reason not to find that option preferable."
Seven considered it, her pain evident. "Termination is always a solution of sorts," she said finally, in a quiet voice. "It is also an ultimate solution. There are no more options once it is implemented."
"Exactly." Janeway felt her anger drain away as if it had never been, knowing how much of it was from her sense of helplessness about the situation. With a wry appreciation for how easily her partner could provoke her when she set her mind to it, she kissed Seven gently on the forehead, and hugged her. "Darling, give this some time."
"I can always terminate her later." Seven agreed.
Janeway bit her lip, irritated by Seven's bloody single-mindedness, but she wisely didn't respond.
"If I choose treatment for her, it must begin immediately," Seven continued. "The counselor was quite clear on that. It is why I cannot learn to look after Erin myself."
"It wasn't only a matter of timing, Seven. Assume that you had the necessary training. What would that mean?"
Seven blinked. "I do not understand."
"Are you prepared to give up your life to look after your mother? It might be what's required in this case, a lifelong commitment to take care of her needs. For those who do it for a living, it doesn't have the same emotional and psychological drain that it does for a family member."
"I had not considered that."
"I know," Janeway altered her voice into its kindest and most gentle register. "You're not thinking clearly at the moment, darling. I know you believe you are. I know you're attempting to assess this rationally. I'm afraid you're just too close to it right now."
"It is my responsibility to look after her," Seven said, her narrow features pained and confused. "She is my family, just as you are. Families look after one another."
"That's true," Janeway allowed slowly, as the words impacted on her in a way that she didn't think Seven had intended. That was what families did, and it suddenly occurred to her that she hadn't been recognizing that. "But sometimes you need to accept that you can't always do that. Sometimes, it's best to let others, who are more qualified, handle the situation."
"That is abdicating my responsibility." Seven glanced at the captain, her features troubled.
Janeway pursed her lips. "I admit that for some people, that's exactly what it is, but for others, sometimes it's the only way. Not only for the best interests of the person involved, but also for the rest of the family as a whole." She paused, searching for the proper words. "I'm not saying you should place your mother in a facility, Annika. I'm not even saying you shouldn't learn how to care of her and do so for as long as it takes, if that's what you really want to do."
Seven frowned. "You're not?"
"No," she said, her thoughts finally becoming clear. "I'm just saying that there's a lot involved here, and we don't have to make the decision right this minute. We have time to research all the possibilities and consequences of any action we finally decide upon. In the meantime, we'll do all we can for Erin. Let Kes begin treatment, and we'll visit as much as we can. In fact, if you really want to be with your mother on a more continuous basis, I'll place you on off-duty rotation. I'm sure the ship can get along without its chief science officer for the remainder of the mission."
Actually, Janeway wasn't entirely sure about that last one, but she was willing to give it a try if that's what Seven needed.
Seven shook her head. "I need to remain on duty."
Janeway didn't show her relief. "All right." She glanced at the chronometer. "It's late. We've been wrangling with this for a couple of hours, and we still haven't eaten. I think we should have dinner and let this go for a little while. It might help our perspective."
Seven resisted for a moment, her body stiff in Janeway's arms, but gradually, she relaxed. "Agreed." she whispered, much to Janeway's relief.
As the couple rose from the sofa, Janeway realized that she could not remain the objective observer that she thought she should in the beginning. This was decision they both had to make. She had to accept the fact that Erin was as much a member of her family as Gretchen was of Seven's. The only thing she had to be careful of was that whatever they decided, it had to be arrived at jointly, completely as a couple and not merely as her influencing Seven's choice.
Seven wasn't sure why Janeway had summoned her to the ready room, and found it difficult to care. Her mind was crowded with thoughts of her mother and what her ultimate fate would be. Though Kes had begun treatment of Erin at Seven's request, Seven was aware it could always be terminated should another option prove itself more viable. Yet, the situation still felt so unfinished, as if she hadn't done all she could do. A great deal of anger remained within her, though she wasn't sure from where it stemmed. The only bright spot in the entire situation was when she had convinced Janeway to assist in the process. Seven needed help in this, from someone she knew would be as emotionally invested as she. That way, she didn't feel so alone.
So responsible.
She lifted an eyebrow when she realized Janeway wasn't the only one in her office. Ro Laren sat in the chair in front of the desk, her face impassive as she gestured Seven into a second chair. Sittingt down, Seve felt slightly disgruntled at being taken away from her duties. She had fallen behind during her occupation with her mother, and had planned to spend the rest of her shift catching up.
"A few nights ago, Ensign Elisa Tarn was placed in an escape pod and launched from Millennium," Janeway began without preamble, once Seven was settled. "It's believed it was involuntary and a result of her interrupting an attempt to tamper with the communications packet initially scheduled to be transmitted yesterday. An away team was dispatched to retrieve her."
Seven blinked. She knew something had been going on, but her personal concerns had prevented her from being as informed as she usually was.
"We think this is connected to the incident in engineering," Ro added.
Seven glanced at her. "And the tampering with the planet freighter artifacts?"
Ro almost, but not quite, winced. "Actually, that turned out to be Dr. Pulaski," she said in a tone that indicated more than a little annoyance at the discovery. "Apparently, the good doctor decided she wanted her souvenir back one night and attempted to bypass your security code. She didn't mean any harm."
"Does this mean the science department can resume our research into the artifacts?"
Janeway seemed less than interested in scientific pursuits at the moment. "That's not why I asked you here."
"With B'Elanna on the away mission, we need someone to decrypt the message added to the communications packet," Ro broke in, not waiting for Janeway to finish her thought. Seven wondered at that, and at the expression that crossed the captain's face. "I just don't have anyone in security who is comparable to you and B'Elanna in deciphering encryption codes."
Seven worked that out, a vague interest stirring as she realized why it had to be a security officer rather than just anyone in operations. Why it had to be someone who could take care of her or himself in a dangerous situation. "If I were to accept this task, would the vessel at large be aware of it?"
Ro regarded her with what looked like respect. "The information that you're working on the message would be leaked to the entire vessel."
Seven now understood why Janeway was displaying that particular expression. It wasn't outrage at being interrupted by Ro before revealing the details in her own time. It was because she didn't want Seven involved in this operation at all, but didn't feel she had much choice in the matter.
"You are hoping that the saboteur will confront me in an effort to prevent the decryption of the hidden message."
"You don't have to be so cheerful about it." There was a dryness to Janeway's tone, an attempt at humor, but her eyes were dark and stormy. "Since we think that Tarn interrupted the culprit, it's possible the saboteur is now running scared. By letting it be known that you're decrypting the communications packet, it's possible he might panic completely and make a fatal mistake that leads to his capture."
"We're going to add to that pressure by releasing the statement that the pod was retrieved and Ensign Tarn was found dead."
Seven lifted her head, alarmed. "Was she?"
"We hope not," Janeway said, "but we won't be sure until Zar and his team track her down. Our saboteur won't know how the away mission is progressing, however."
"In the meantime, I will act as 'bait'."
Janeway offered a bleak look. "For what could turn out to be a very dangerous fish."
"You'll be perfectly safe, Seven," Ro countered reassuringly. "You'll have a security officer guarding you at all times. No one will be able to get near you without us knowing about it. Besides, despite what's happened, I don't think this guy is a cold-blooded killer. I think what happened in engineering went farther than anticipated."
"Which is the only reason I'm even contemplating this plan," Janeway said with a touch of ice in her tone as she glanced at her security chief.
Seven considered it. It sounded like a viable strategy. Plus, it would take her mind off her problems for a certain amount of time. She wondered if that was the real reason her partner was allowing it. "What must I do?"
"It looks as if added data stream has been threaded throughout the main body of the message," Ro explained. "It has to be untangled before it can even start to be decrypted."
"What if no one attempts to hinder me?"
Ro shrugged. "Then you'll decode the message. Besides, when they find Tarn, I'm sure she'll be able to give us an identification on her assailant."
"Assuming she is still alive."
Ro offered a steady gaze. "Assuming she's still alive, but I don't want to count on that, or wait for the amount of time it will take for the away team to retrieve Tarn. I want to find this guy now, before he hurts anyone else."
Seven appreciated the streak of practicality that ran through the Bajoran. It was almost Borglike. "I shall begin immediately."
Ro glanced at Janeway. "Anything to add, Captain?"
"I believe it's been covered."
Seven stared at her. This wasn't like Janeway at all. Obviously, she was so anxious to put some plan ... any plan ... into action that she wasn't even going to fuss about Seven being involved. That or Janeway believed it was absolutely safe and would keep Seven occupied. Seven decided that either reason was valid and it shouldn't stop her. Janeway inclined her head to dismiss both her officers. "Carry on."
Ro left Seven in the lab with the communications probe where she set to work immediately. It only took a few minutes before she made an interesting discovery and she thought it unfortunate that Ro and the captain hadn't called her in before now. The investigation might have proceeded much quicker.
She tapped her comm badge. "Seven to Lt. Commander Ro."
"Ro here. Have you found something, Seven?"
"The algorithm used to encode the message is not new. It is the same one used by the Orion Syndicate to disguise communications traffic at their colony on Noiro."
There was a pause. Seven wasn't sure if it was disbelief or merely surprise. "Are you sure?"
"It is the same one I encountered while tracking down the Syndicate's homeworld during the incident with Section 31. It will not take me long to decrypt the message once I have untangled it from the data stream."
"That's excellent, Seven. Let me know as soon as you have anything else. I'll inform the captain."
Seven cut the channel and resumed work on the packet, carefully separating the tiny bits of code scattered throughout the data stream and bringing them together to form a coherent pattern. It was painstaking work and took several hours, the time passing without Seven noticing, her concentration absolute.
It was the sound of the transporter hum that jolted her out of her reverie and made her step back. Remembering the explosive transported into the plasma conduit in engineering, she reacted immediately, taking a step toward the door before realizing that it was security sealed against intrusion and she probably didn't have time to override it manually. Instantly, she lunged for the meager shelter behind a nearby work station. Huddled in a fetal position, arms wrapped around her head, she waited for the explosion to snuff out her life, considerably surprised when, after a few seconds, nothing further happened. She waited a few seconds longer, and then gingerly lifted her head, peering over her shoulder at the communications probe.
A silvery bubble rested placidly on the torpedo casing, quivering slightly, as if disturbed by air currents, but otherwise did not move. Cautiously, Seven reached down and picked up her tricorder that had landed on the floor beside her as she dived for cover, and scanned the bubble curiously as she waited for security to arrive.
The readings were odd. There was no indication of explosive compound. Instead, the silver bubble was completely organic, composed of biogenetic material in a compound that looked vaguely familiar but did not contain toxic material of any kind. Intrigued, Seven rose from the deck and moved closer until she was standing over it, intensifying her scans. Her face mere centimeters away as she examined the silvery surface with her eyepiece, it belatedly occurred to her that security should have responded to the unauthorized transport by now. It was possible that they hadn't detected it, and she reached for her comm badge.
At that instant, the bubble popped.
She blinked and jerked backwards, holding her breath. The inside of the bubble was filled with liquid that spread briefly in a silver puddle over the torpedo casing before evaporating entirely. In seconds, there was no visible sign that it had ever been there. She rechecked her readings, worried suddenly that she was dealing with some form of biological weapon, but there were no hints of a virus or infective agent. Just an incredibly high amount of perfectly natural hormones wafting through the air of the lab like pollen on a breeze...
Seven was forced to inhale. The scent was strong, provocatively musky, a delicious fragrance that spread warmth throughout her body. She felt her nipples harden pleasurably against the fabric of her undergarment, protruding through the material of her sweater. A flood of moisture dampened her uniform trousers and she was suddenly, achingly aware of what she needed next.
The door took only a few seconds to bypass and the security officer posted outside looked at her in surprise.
"Sir? Is there something you need?"
She ignored him, moving past without so much as a glance in his direction. She was vaguely aware of him slapping his comm badge and speaking with someone else, but it didn't hinder her as she moved quickly through the science section to the nearest corridor. In the turbolift, she utilized command codes that she shouldn't have but did due to her relationship with the ship's captain. The turbolift opened directly into the ready room and Seven stepped off, eagerly searching for her spouse.
Startled, Janeway looked up from her computer console. "Seven?"
Seven crossed the room in a rush, reaching out for woman she loved, consumed with a fiery passion. Seizing the captain by the tunic, she hauled Janeway across her desk, scattering the desktop console, the knickknacks and the vase full of flowers.
"Seven, what are you doing? Stop this!"
Seven ignored the order and the futile struggles of the woman in her arms. Kathryn liked to struggle occasionally. It was part of their play. Conscious only of the incredible desire raging within, she pinned Janeway to the desk, her right hand immobilizing the captain's wrists above her head, as with her left, she methodically began to tear away the obstructing uniform.
"Seven, listen to me. Please, darling, listen to me."
Seven blinked, hesitating. The voice somehow penetrated the lustful haze, and she looked down into the beloved features to find Kathryn's eyes were stormy thunderclouds of grey, making Seven suddenly feel uncertain. There was something here she didn't understand, didn't fully comprehend. The color of the eyes meant something, but she couldn't quite grasp it. All she knew was that she wanted and needed her spouse with an overpowering compulsion.
"Darling, let my hands go," Janeway whispered softly, persuasively. "Please, Annika. I want to be able to touch you."
Seven smiled. She didn't realize it was a terrifying smile, feral and possessive. Releasing Janeway's wrists, as much to grant freedom to her right hand to roughly paw at her spouse as it was to comply with Janeway's wishes, she resumed her removal of the uniform. It actually took her a second to realize that instead of returning her passion, Janeway had tapped the Borg's comm badge ... her own lost somewhere with the scattered remains of her tunic ... and was quickly speaking into the activated channel.
"Security to my ready room."
Enraged, furious beyond reason, Seven reared up, backhanding the captain across the face and sending Janeway over the desk to collapse against the wall. Seven was about to go after her to inflict further damage when she heard the door hiss open behind her. She whirled to face this new threat, lips drawing back in a snarl as Ro Laren, flanked by two other security officers, burst through the entrance. The Bajoran's face was stone, dark and unforgiving as she surveyed the room and what had been going on. Her hand lifted, a phaser glowing red at the tip as it was aimed directly at Seven.
Janeway staggered to her feet behind the desk, a hand raised to her mouth where blood trickled, her other flat on the desk to support herself. Her uniform hung in tattered shreds around her body, leaving her exposed and vulnerable.
"Don't hurt her, Commander."
Then, the ruby energy bolt hit Seven and she knew no more.
"I'm picking up a distress beacon."
Tom's words were welcome to the rest of the away team and they tensed in expectation. The Delta Sky had tracked the faint traces of ion trail to this habitable but rather inhospitable world in a star system a few light years from where the pod had been launched from Millennium. The fact that the beacon had been activated was a hopeful sign that Tarn was still alive.
"Take us in, Mr. Paris." Zar leaned forward in his seat, his dark eyes restlessly scanning the readings rushing across his board.
"The beacon's signal is erratic," B'Elanna announced. She frowned. "I'm not sure I like this."
Zar shot her a look.. "Meaning?"
"Meaning I'm having trouble isolating it. It's moving."
He blinked. Moving? Escape pods generally didn't move once they had landed. "Try a triangulation," he suggested. "It's possible the seismically active nature of the planet is distorting our readings."
He left his spot at the operations console and moved to the seat just behind the pilot, peering through the viewscreen as the shuttle began to descend through the atmosphere. Grey, dirty clouds grudgingly gave way to reveal a dank and dark world, covered in ash and pumice, smoke rising fitfully from a variety of rents in the earth.
"A nice slice of hell down there," Paris muttered.
"Set up a search pattern." Zar glanced back. "Lt. Torres?"
"I'm still having trouble pinning down the signal," she said, frowning as she poured over her console. "Can you go lower?"
"There's a lot of ash and debris in the air," the helmsman warned. "I don't want to clog any of the intake vents."
"Do your best," Zar advised. "Continue to fly in space mode. I know the ship won't handle as well in these atmospheric conditions, but the shields will protect the hull."
The ride was rough, buffeted by air currents and what appeared to be a snowstorm. It took a moment for Zar to realize the soft gray flakes were not snow but rather ash and debris from an erupting volcano. In the distance, there was a crimson glow from lava fountains erupting from the side of the nearest mountain. Horrified, he stared out the front viewport as the shuttle swooped low over a lava field that had spread for miles over the desolate landscape. Dark ripples glowed red on the edges as the field crawled inexorably down the slope into a lake that steamed violently as the searing heat reacted with the water, evaporating it instantly.
"Commander."
"Go ahead, Lieutenant." Zar dreaded what he would hear.
"The signal from the distress beacon is originating from beneath the flow," B'Elanna said in a voice devoid of inflection. "It is moving approximately two feet per minute. The escape pod appears to be maintaining structural integrity, but it has to be well over 250 degrees Celsius in there. Those pods are designed tough, but it won't last much longer."
"Life support?" Zar knew that even if the pod's bulkheads were temporarily holding their own against the unimaginable heat surrounding it, the interior had to be little more than a furnace at this point. It was unlikely there was anything left alive.
There was a brief pause. "Off line, Commander."
Zar swallowed hard. "What about the computer? Can you download any information from the data banks?"
B'Elanna ran her hands over her board, but her head was shaking even as she did it. "Nothing. The only thing still functioning is the distress beacon and it's degrading even as we speak."
Zar firmed his jaw. "Scan for organic matter. Maybe we can retrieve a body, if nothing else."
B'Elanna boosted her scans. "No trace, Commander. There's nothing organic left."
Zar lifted his chin, his eyes brightening, and Paris glanced over his shoulder as he turned the shuttle into another pass over the site. "Could any remains be cremated from the heat?"
"Possibly, but I'm hoping that Tarn managed to get out before the lava flow overtook the pod."
"We can't hail her," B'Elanna reminded him. "Her comm badge was torn off on Millennium."
"I know," Zar said, settling back in his seat and accessing the nearby console. "Lt. Paris, widen the search grid and look for traces of humanoid lifeforms. Lt. Torres, backtrack the flow of the lava and extrapolate which direction she may have mapped out an escape route."
"She could be injured," Paris offered. "Possibly unconscious. The heat is playing havoc with our sensors, disrupting their sensitivity. There's no way we can detect a solitary thermal signal from anything living."
"Torres and I will have to beam down and do a ground search."
"In that?" B'Elanna shot him a look of pure disbelief.
"You're not afraid, are you?"
The Klingon opened her mouth, paused, thought about it and finally offered him a tight-lipped grin. "My Human side is too damned smart to let my Klingon side fall for that one. Try again, Commander."
"Fair enough, but we still have to do a ground search. It may be Tarn's only chance."
B'Elanna sighed. "Fine," she said, not at all pleased, but recognizing the futility of further objections. "We're going to need re-breathers. There's a lot of ashfall."
She hadn't been exaggerating. As they materialized on a rise some distance from the edge of the lava flow, Zar was struck by the sheer thickness of the air. The ash, though appearing light and soft, was actually gritty and granular as it drifted down from the sky, building up on the ground beneath their feet and making it difficult to walk. It clung to the transparent shields covering their faces, making it necessary to wipe them every few minutes. Zar's breath rasped loud in his ears as the crackle of fire burning the remaining vegetation, and an incessant rumbling from the distant volcano, surrounded the officers.
"Which way?"
B'Elanna lifted her tricorder, squinting in the dim illumination. Zar knew it was the middle of the day and that there was a sun up there somewhere, but at the moment, it might as well have been midnight. The lights strapped to their wrists barely pierced the darkness surrounding them.
"There." She lifted her arm and pointed toward the hills that loomed forbiddingly in the distance. Looking back over his shoulder into the valley, Zar could see the search lights from the Delta Sky as it made another pass over the lava field, hoping to detect something with its more advanced sensors as well as acting as a sort of beacon to the fleeing Tarn, assuming she was close enough to see it. "It's the only direction she could have headed and expected to survive."
Bending his head in a futile attempt to protect his face shield from the flying ash, Zar hefted the breathing pack strapped to his back and began to trudge in the direction the Klingon indicated. Every fifteen minutes, they would receive a hail from Paris, who kept the away team current with updated seismic activity. Not that anything could be done about it, but at least Zar and B'Elanna had some warning when an aftershock was about to occur and were able to flatten on the ground before the shuddering of the earth flung them down.
Fissures and cracks had appeared in the landscape, and what few trees were scattered through the area had been flattened by the force of the blast. Zar knew the escape pod would have protected Tarn against the initial eruption and pyroclastic flow. She would undoubtedly have used the limited transporter on board the pod to beam herself as far as she could. That wouldn't have been very far if most of the power on board had been taken up with life support and shields holding off the heat around it.
"Commander."
Startled, Zar nearly tripped over his feet and barely managed to maintain his balance on the slippery slope. He scrambled up beside the Klingon who grimly uncovered a backpack in a pile of rocks, where it had been covered with a thick layer of ash.
"Why would she leave that behind?" Despite his words, Zar was elated at the find. It meant that Tarn had made it this far.
"Maybe it was weighing her down and speed was more crucial than the supplies it held," B'Elanna speculated.
Zar was about to respond when a dead silence fell upon them. It was so abrupt a change from the constant roar they had experienced up until then that the two Starfleet officers could only stare at each other in total bemusement. Then suddenly, B'Elanna shoved the Cardassian to the ground as something screamed through the air above them..
"Duck!"
He landed heavily and curled up in a ball as something exploded not far away. Heat crisped the outside of his tunic and he rolled, putting out the areas of his uniform that were suddenly smoldering.
"Lava bomb," B'Elanna identified as she helped the first officer to his feet. Some of her hair had been scorched along one side, making her look vaguely lopsided, but the transparent shield from her re-breather had protected her face. "Not much wonder Tarn was making tracks."
"We'd better clear the area as well." He ducked as yet another ball of molten rock shot by overhead and impacted several meters away.
B'Elanna checked her tricorder again. "I'm detecting some lifesigns. Approximately two kilometers north by northwest. Humanoid. It has to be Tarn."
"Let's go, Lieutenant."
"Delta Sky to Zar."
Zar tapped his badge. "Go ahead."
"Commander, the sensors are detecting another eruption." Paris's voice was considerably worried. "It's a different mountain along the same chain, approximately twenty kilometers to the north of you. It's going to blow any moment."
Zar wanted to curse. "That's the direction we detected lifesigns, Lieutenant. Beam us two kilometers north. We need to find her and get out as soon as possible."
"Understood."
Alerted to the sound of another incoming lava bomb, Zar's head jerked up in time to see one headed directly for where he and B'Elanna were standing. He opened his mouth to yell something, though he wasn't sure exactly what, when the dissolving sensation and sparkles of dematerialization surrounded him.
He shut his mouth with a snap as the two officers rematerialized elsewhere.
"That was close," B'Elanna muttered.
"Timing is everything in this business, Lieutenant," Zar said, somehow managing an even tone though his heart was pounding so hard against the wall of his chest, he was surprised it hadn't slammed its way through.
Following the readings on the engineer's tricorder, they stumbled in the direction of the mountain, dark and foreboding as it loomed over them. Fortunately, the air wasn't as thick here, a southwest wind prevailing as it blew the ash away from them, leaving this as a protected haven. Zar knew that was an illusion. There was already smoke rising from the sides of the mountain face. This small valley would be in the direct path of any pyroclastic flow. A nearby riverbed provided a perfect channel for a lahar. In seconds, this entire area could be destroyed.
They found Tarn tucked against the lee-side of a log, as if she had run as far as she could and could run no farther. Almost invisible, obscured by the thick layer of ash and debris piled over her body, she had her head tucked into a hollow made by her arms. A piece of cloth was tied around the lower part of her face in lieu of the equipment allowing B'Elanna and Zar to breath normally.
"Is she alive?"
"Barely," B'Elanna responded as she knelt over the comatose officer. "We have to get her back to the ship."
Zar slapped his comm badge. "We have her, Mr. Paris. Three to beam up."
"I'm not very pleased with this, Commander."
Ro lifted her chin, her face impassive, but Janeway could see the fury in the Bajoran's eyes.
"No, Captain. For what it's worth, neither am I."
Janeway could have pursued it, but she realized a large part of her anger was generated by the fact Seven was involved, as opposed to any other crewmember. She had to be careful to separate what was professional outrage and what was personal torment. Until she did, there was no reason to take it out on her security chief, especially since Janeway had authorized the plan in the first place. She had simply believed that her spouse wouldn't be in any danger. Not only was Seven remarkably good at taking care of herself, Janeway had expected that security would have the area blanketed. Obviously, both she and Ro had underestimated their foe.
Or overestimated him. It occurred to the captain that whomever they were dealing with was a bit of a coward. He didn't go for face-to-face confrontations, the situation with Tarn notwithstanding. He liked striking from a distance, lurking in the shadows. She resisted the urge to sigh and settled behind her desk. It had been restored to the condition that existed before Seven made her impromptu raid, except for the vase of flowers that had shattered on the deck. A damp spot still lingered in the rug, though Maintenance had cleared away the slivers of glass and battered roses.
Janeway wished she could be restored as easily. She had replaced her uniform, but her body ached with a multitude of little hurts, and her jaw continued to be sore. She supposed she should be glad Seven had used her right hand to slap her. Had she used her left, the captain probably wouldn't be sitting here to worry about it.
"We believe it was a distilled form of Iboneb hormones mixed with Deltan pheromones, artificially enhanced and contained in some kind of 'endocrine cocktail', invisible to normal sensors."
Janeway set her jaw. "I'm not as concerned about what it was as where it came from and how it was transported into the communications lab without your security measures detecting it."
"Our equipment was calibrated to detect a transport of a sentient being. They were even keyed to anything explosive. This was neither," Ro explained. "I can tell you is that the same type of disguised transporter signal was used to transport the pheromone bomb as was used with the explosive device in engineering. It was relayed from the Alpha Hangar and originated in an auxiliary transporter room on deck twenty-seven. I have a security team down there now going over it. If our saboteur left anything behind, we'll find it."
Janeway regarded her steadily. "Has it occurred to you that the culprit may be a security officer?"
"Immediately, Captain," Ro responded flatly. "I went over every one of the personal records of my officers a week into the investigation. While there are specific individuals capable of carrying out the operation in engineering and also of disguising a transporter signal, none of them have this level of encryption knowledge, nor the ability to create a 'pheromone bomb'. "
"Could we be looking at more than one suspect? A conspiracy of some kind?"
"I don't think so, Captain."
"Why not?"
Ro paused, looking vaguely disturbed. "It just doesn't have that 'feel', Captain."
"I hope you're not conducting the entire investigation based on hunches and speculation."
Ro's skin darkened as she flushed. "No, Captain. The problem with this investigation is the lack of evidence pointing to any particular motive. Without a motive, it's very difficult to figure out who would be doing this. It's clear that the last two incidents were predicated upon the first, but why did the first happen? Why would anyone want to force a return to the Alpha Quadrant when we're returning anyway next month. It doesn't make sense."
Janeway considered that. "The pheromone bomb was an intricate and delicate piece of work. Very few people on the ship could manage it."
"Biometrics." Ro eyed the captain narrowly. "I've already started running through their files."
Starfleet officers had two levels of personnel files in the computer. The main file contained achievements prior to attending Starfleet Academy, the academy transcripts, and a history of service within the ranks, along with any personal notes from superior officers pertaining to their position. Their private, personal file contained everything from family and medical history to the most recent psychological evaluation. The first was accessible to anyone who held a security rating above five. The second was accessible only to the captain, the first officer, the CMO, the ship's counselor, and the chief of security.
Privacy on a starship was at a premium. People lived in such close quarters that it was easy for conflicts of interest to occur if strict guidelines and protocols weren't followed. It was a delicate balance between respecting the rights of the individual and protecting the security of the ship. For Ro to be accessing the most personal and intimate details of the biometrics department was a huge step, especially since she hadn't come up with evidence implicating a specific person or persons. As captain, Janeway would have to justify this invasion of privacy by her security chief to her superiors, but unfortunately, at this point, she didn't see that she or Ro had much choice.
"Do whatever you have to." Janeway pinned her with a level ten glare. "Keep me updated."
Janeway stared after the Bajoran long after the door had slid shut behind her. There were so many places the captain needed to be right now. Seven was in sickbay, and Janeway wanted to be with her, to be there when she woke, to comfort and reassure her. Another part wanted to be with Ro, assisting in the investigation minute by minute and personally tracking down this monster who dared attack her ship and her crew. She needed to be with the away team, rescuing Tarn and making sure the girl was safe. A part of her even wanted to be with Kes, demanding a full report on the progress of Seven's mother and tossing around ideas as to possible treatments. Then, there was simply handling the day to day tasks of running a vessel the size of Millennium, which kept Janeway busy enough without all this extracurricular activity.
Their mission was almost over, but it seemed like everything was happening at once. Shaking her head, she rose from her chair, logged off duty and headed for the turbolift.
One thing at a time, she reminded herself. Let's get this done one thing at a time.
The lift deposited Janeway on deck eight. Sickbay was quiet and Janeway glanced around, wondering why Erin wasn't present. Dr. Pulaski spotted the captain through the large transparencies and moved alertly out of her office. Pulaski's lined features appeared weary, her slender form almost frail, but her pale blue eyes were keen and her voice retained the sharpness of a knife's edge.
"Nice bruise. Payback's a bitch, isn't it?"
"It is," the captain replied mildly, ignoring the provocation. "Where's Seven's mother?"
Looking vaguely disappointed at not generating more of a response, Pulask gestured to the rooms at the far end of the medical center that were used for isolated or private cases. "Erin's been moved to more secluded accommodations." Peering through the one-way transparency set discreetly in the wall, Janeway could see Erin lying on the bed, still stubbornly unconscious, but at least, she had uncurled from that frightened fetal position. She looked almost normal, in fact, as if she were merely sleeping peacefully. Pulaski touched the controls set beneath the observation port and suddenly, Janeway could hear a steady and low hum of whispered conversation from a multitude of sources.
"What is that?" Frowning, she glanced at the doctor.
"Kes has recordings of Seven's voice set on a loop, mixed in with the constant chatter of the ship's communications grid," Pulaski explained. "It provides Erin with 'voices'. It's not the Collective, but it may give her the impression of being in a safe place until we can return to the Alpha Quadrant and she can receive more intensive care. As you can see, it's already had some positive effect."
"Good idea," Janeway said, impressed. She wondered why they hadn't thought to do that on Voyager after Seven had originally been severed. It might have made her transition a little easier. Feeling guilty, Janeway turned to look at her spouse lying on a biobed in the middle of the medical center. Seven looked so young and vulnerable that Janeway felt her chest hurt. "How is she?"
"We're keeping her sedated until the nanoprobes have a chance to clear her endocrine system of the increased hormonal levels. Once they've returned to normal, she'll probably wake up naturally."
Janeway inhaled deeply as she drifted over to the bed. Seven's narrow features appeared troubled, even in unconsciousness. She didn't blame her. There was a part of her that was still profoundly shaken by the incident in her ready room, at how easily the physically stronger Seven had placed Janeway in a position where all she could do was scream for help. It was humiliating, and frightening on a level that she had not expected ever to feel with her beloved partner.
"There didn't seem to be any attempt on her part to control this, Doctor." Janeway's voice was low with a thread of uncertainty. "It was as if she didn't care. She came after me with no hesitation, no restraint in her actions. I'm not sure what would have happened if Ro hadn't arrived to stop her. I certainly couldn't."
Pulaski looked grim. "That's not surprising, Captain. Even if Seven was aware of what was happening to her, her endocrine levels were more than fifty times what you were exposed to with the Iboneb."
"Fifty!" Janeway blinked, remembering well how helpless she had been in fighting the burning desire that had been incited by the Iboneb, an alien species that utilized sexual interaction rather than violence to resolve disputes. For Seven, it must have been completely overwhelming.
"Captain?"
Janeway turned to see Kes striding gracefully toward her. Despite her wariness of psychiatrists in general, Janeway felt a decided sense of relief and comfort when she saw the Ocampa. "Kes, can you tell me what effect this incident will have on Seven?"
Pulaski discreetly drifted away to her office, and Kes drew the captain off to the side, away from the biobed and presumably, Seven's hearing.
"I think this will be difficult for her, Kathryn, but since she's already experienced a similar situation from the other side, it will be easier for her to adapt than if she had been exposed to it without warning. She'll undoubtedly feel a certain amount of guilt regarding her behavior toward you, but she has to realize it was beyond her control. She could no more prevent her actions than you could while under the same influences."
Unbidden, Janeway reached up and touched her jaw.
"You might want to have that treated," Kes added delicately. "I don't believe Seven will benefit from a visual reminder of her actions. If you'd like, I could handle it."
"Please." Janeway remained still as Kes found a dermal regenerator and treated the bruising on the captain's face. Her thoughts were disturbed. "Kes, Seven seemed unusually angry and agitated even before this incident. I'm very worried about her."
Kes turned off the medical device and dropped it onto a nearby tray. "Is that so surprising, Kathryn? Seven's relationship with her parents will always be colored by her assimilation."
"Perhaps, but Seven came to terms with her parents when we encountered the alternate universe version of them." Janeway paused, frowning. "At least, she says she did."
"She probably believes it," Kes agreed easily. "But while a person may understand what happened, and even accepts why it happened, that doesn't mean she's completely all right with it. Kathryn, Seven lost eighteen years of her life to the Borg because of what she perceives as her parents' arrogance and neglect of her well being. These people abandoned her. They handed her over for assimilation, probably the most extraordinarily painful and frightening thing that could happen to a little girl. The Hansens certainly didn't intend it, of course, but that's essentially what happened. A child doesn't forget, not in her heart and certainly not in the innermost part of her subconscious. It's perfectly natural for Seven to be angry about the situation, especially now that she's been handed a responsibility she never asked for and probably doesn't want ... to care and make decisions for her mother's well-being in a way that she doesn't believe Erin cared for her."
Janeway considered what the counselor was saying. "But Seven has such a naturally loving personality beneath all that Borg conditioning—" she began.
"Were that not the case, it might be a slightly easier situation for her," Kes stopped the thought before Janeway had finished pursuing it. "Seven's been witness to exceptionally loving and nurturing relationships between parents and children, from Samantha and Naomi, to you and your mother. She's even participated in them as a parental figure to One and the Borg children, and as a cherished daughter-in-law to Gretchen. A part of her feels that's how it should be between her and Erin, but her subconscious cannot forget that this person profoundly hurt and betrayed her. Put simply, she doesn't trust her mother, and to a certain extent, she doesn't respect her as an individual."
"How do I help her?" That was the most important thing to Janeway.
Kes smiled. "You won't like it."
Janeway's eyes narrowed. "Try me."
"Be there for her. Help her understand that it's okay to be angry and hurt by this situation with her mother, but it doesn't mean that she can't make the right decision when it comes to Erin's future well being. Unfortunately, there's no magic solution to this, Kathryn. There's no one correct course of action that will make everything turn out all right in the end. All Seven can do is find a way to handle it as best she can. She'll need your unconditional love and support more than ever."
Janeway's mouth firmed. "She has it. She always will." She dropped her eyes. "But I still feel guilty."
If Kes was surprised at the revelation, at Janeway confiding in her to this extent, she managed not to show it. She had learned over time that the only way to reach her captain, was to be nothing more or less than her friend and keep any professional agenda out of it.
"In what way?"
"I guess I'm as resentful about Erin's return as Seven. I don't want my wife to give up her life ... our life together ... to look after her mother. I know it's selfish, but I'm afraid that Seven will do what she has to in order to care for Erin, regardless of the personal cost. She's that kind of person."
"Yes, she is," Kes said gently. "That's why she feels so unfairly burdened by this decision. She has responsibilities and commitments to other people in her life."
"I don't want that to influence her," Janeway said honestly. "I don't want my desires to be why she makes her decision."
Kes patted the captain on the arm. "Kathryn, Seven will always take your concerns into consideration. She loves you. You're her family, far more than Erin is at the moment. Your needs come first with her, even in place of her own at times. That said, you still need to be honest with her about your trepidations. She needs to know how you feel, not as an added burden, but so that she can make an informed decision. That honesty will help her in the long run."
Janeway exhaled crossly. "You realize that's absolutely no help at all."
Kes laughed and was about to respond when the women were interrupted by the sudden shift of sound in the biobed readings, indicating that the patient's status had changed.
Seven was finally waking up.
Seven was conscious, but she didn't want to open her eyes. She suddenly understood why her mother was so leery of returning to reality. The memory of the actions that led to her latest visit to sickbay made her feel ill inside, and Seven wondered what possible reason there would be for her to want to wake up.
"Annika?"
Kathryn's voice was soft and coaxing, urging her from the warm darkness. Shame and horror filled Seven in equal measure. How could she have acted in such a manner? What was wrong with her?
"Darling, it's all right. I'm right here."
Seven opened her eyes a slit. "Kathryn?"
Janeway smiled gently, her eyes a soft blue as she leaned over her spouse, her palm warm where it cupped Seven's cheek. "I'm so glad you're all right."
Seven was confused. She couldn't understand how Janeway could be so casual about what had happened. Certainly, she had done less reprehensible things and received more censure for them.
"Kathryn ... the ready room..."
"Shh, it wasn't your fault, darling. Do you remember the lab where you were working on the communications packet?"
Seven swallowed, memories crowding into her mind. "Something materialized. It was an organic compound of some kind."
"It was a 'pheromone bomb', based on the Iboneb Effect. Only it was far more powerful than what I was exposed to."
Seven sat up, horrified. "Kathryn, I struck you. I tried to force you..." She trailed off, a sick sensation filling her chest.
Janeway grasped Seven's shoulders, staring her in the face. "That wasn't you," she said with complete conviction. "You weren't in control of your responses, any more than I was when I struck you while under the influence of these pheromones. It was an isolated incident, Seven, nothing more."
Seven wondered if Janeway had felt as wretched in the aftermath of that incident as Seven did now. If so, it was not surprising that tshe had found it necessary to apologize profusely and repeatedly. She lowered her head, closing her eyes, and was surprised to feel lips on her forehead, kissing her lovingly.
"Annika, I know how bad you feel," Janeway said firmly as she hugged her. "Believe me, I totally understand. I was in the same place, remember? Unfortunately, this seems part and parcel of being in Starfleet. Unconventional things will happen to us on occasion, but there's absolutely nothing we can't handle as long as we face it together. I need you to let go of what was nothing more than an aberrant incident caused by outside influences. There are too many demands on our time right now to grant it any further attention. We need to move on."
Seven lifted her head, peering into the depths of her beloved's eyes, evaluating the sincerity, the certainty that this was not an incident that would damage their relationship either in the short term or in the long term. Could it be so simple as acknowledging the factors contributing to the incident and putting it behind them? Seven inhaled slowly. She had not blamed Janeway for any of her actions during the encounter with the Iboneb. She had to accept that Janeway would be equally as tolerant and forgiving of Seven's weakness.
"Very well, Kathryn," she said in a low voice. "I will attempt to 'move past it'."
Janeway's mouth softened and she hugged Seven again. "I love you. With all my heart and soul, I love you, Annika. I always will."
Seven felt a melting inside her as her guilt and shame dissolved under the unconditional devotion of her partner. For the first time in what seemed an eternity, though it was only a few weeks, she felt as if she was finally thinking clearly. "I love you, my Kathryn," she whispered fiercely, returning the embrace. "Forever."
There was a subtle clearing of a nearby throat and the two women separated. Seven glanced over to see the ship's counselor watching with interest and she flushed slightly.
"I'm glad to know you've recovered, Seven," Kes said formally. "I also wanted to let you know that Erin is showing small signs of improvement since treatment began. There's every reason to have hope."
Seven felt bombarded by the information, but she nodded politely. "Thank you, Counselor."
Kes seemed about to say something more, but instead, she hesitated, inclined her head, and departed in the direction of her office, leaving Janeway and Seven alone.
"Was the assailant captured?"
Janeway looked grim. "No, and unfortunately, he succeeded in preventing the decryption of the message. Right now, the lab is impregnated with pheromones and has to be sealed off from the rest of the ship until we can send in a decontamination team."
Seven frowned, puzzled. "That is merely a stopgap measure, is it not? Once the room is cleared and a level ten force field erected to prevent any further unauthorized transport, then I can finish decoding the message."
Janeway moved away, more so she could pace in agitation as opposed to needing distance from her spouse. "It's all stopgap, Seven," she said with angry dissatisfaction, fists clenched. "We'll retrieve Tarn in a few more days. We'll decode the message after a few more days. Ro will have finished examining the biometric personnel files in a few more days..."
Seven tilted her head. "One must then wonder," she offered slowly, "what happens before those 'few days' have passed."
Janeway stopped, staring at her wildly for a few seconds as she absorbed the meaning of the words. "You want to explain that?"
Seven swung her legs over the edge of the biobed and stood up. "I had a thought, but it is nebulous, Captain. Please, continue the discussion until I have isolated it."
Janeway lifted a brow, recognizing that Seven was utilizing a speculation technique that she had learned while with Leah Brahm's TPG. Seven normally used it while pursuing theoretical scientific research rather than for criminal investigations, but Janeway appeared willing to accept that it could be useful in this case. "Did you retrieve anything from the message packet before you were interrupted? Ro told me it was an Orion Syndicate code."
Seven considered it. "It was the same one used by the Noiro colony to disguise their communications traffic. Obviously, there are ties to the syndicate involved here."
"Which is not good news," Janeway said, hands on her hips. "They have several reasons not to like us at all."
Seven blinked and looked at her keenly. "Kathryn?" Bluish-grey eyes rose to meet hers. "It is assumed by everyone that the initial incident in engineering was not intended to be as serious as it was."
Janeway nodded. "I think the saboteur didn't realize how vital the warp engines are in the operation of the transition drive. Why?"
Seven shook her head, still having difficulty pinning her idea down. "Why would someone want the ship to return early?"
Janeway shrugged. "Because they needed to pass on something to their boss, in this case, the Orion Syndicate. Because something was discovered that they thought the Syndicate needed to know immediately."
"Like the Iboneb?"
Janeway shrugged slightly. "This 'pheromone bomb' was obviously developed from the data we retrieved during that mission. It holds the potential to be a devastating weapon or even some kind of recreational drug, and it's possible our saboteur, assuming he's the same person who developed it, wanted to pass it on to the Orion Syndicate as soon as possible."
"Suppose it was simply the return itself that was important."
"What do you mean?"
The thought was fleeting, but Seven pursued it doggedly. "What would happen if the plan had worked as you believe the saboteur intended, and the ship had returned prematurely to the Alpha Quadrant? "
Janeway inhaled slowly. "I suppose there would be an investigation carried out by Starfleet to determine the cause of the plasma leak."
"We barely detected evidence of sabotage, and that was purely a matter of timing. Suppose Starfleet had not found any evidence of sabotage and was forced to rule it a 'freak' accident. What would it mean to the ship and the crew? What would it mean to you?"
"I'm not sure." Janeway looked vaguely impatient with the direction of the conversation, but she took a seat on the biobed and made a visible effort to give it some thought. "It could have appeared that there's some unknown flaw or malfunction present in Millennium's warp plasma flow conduits. The ship might have been regulated to a dry-dock for further inspection."
"Would such an accident reflect badly on B'Elanna?"
Janeway lifted a brow. "Maybe. If there was no evidence of an obvious cause, it's possible that Starfleet might look to the chief engineer as being neglectful in some manner." She firmed her jaw. "I wouldn't have allowed it, of course."
"But the perception might have persisted, despite your best efforts."
Janeway looked reluctant. "Perhaps."
Seven linked her hands behind her back and studied the deck. "What of you?"
"What about me?"
"How would an early return to the Alpha Quadrant reflect on you? I know there were many other captains considered for this command, supported by other factions in Starfleet Command."
"I guess ... well, it never looks good when a captain has to abort a deep space mission, regardless of the reason. It would have been a trifle embarrassing, but certainly no more than that. Not enough to lose my command." She paused and added reluctantly, "I'll grant that there might have been a few questions raised in the upper echelons of Starfleet Command about my ability to lead this kind of mission."
Seven lifted her head, pinning the captain with a look. "It would be more than embarrassing had you made an emergency transition jump, Kathryn."
Janeway spread her hands, unimpressed. "That never would have happened. You made the risks of such a decision more than clear to me."
"The risks were very high." Seven strolled over to the window that offered visual access to her mother's room, staring through it without actually seeing the interior. "Even had we stabilized the integrity fields and improved our shields, we still would have lost an unacceptable percentage of the crew. Perhaps our saboteur, rather than not knowing the outcome of his actions, was instead fully cognizant of the medical impact an emergency transition jump could have. Perhaps that was exactly what he expected and planned for you to do."
Janeway exhaled audibly behind her. Seven knew she was trying to understand where the Borg was going with this. "I can't see any captain risking that much just to return to the Alpha Quadrant."
"Indeed?" Seven lifted a brow. "Are you not the captain who is reputed to be more than simply determined? Who is known to have risked everything to return to the Alpha Quadrant by utilizing an experimental and risky propulsion system?" Seven's face grew cold. "We almost lost our chief engineer. We did lose nine members of the alpha shift, which is comprised of the very best engineers the ship possesses. We were very fortunate not to lose more. Had their courage been less and they had evacuated rather than remained, repairs to the warp engines would have been impossible because the plasma would have reached the warp manifold. Indeed, it was barely stopped in time. An emergency transition jump would have been our only option."
Seven could easily see the captain's reflection in the window as the train of thought finally became clear. Janeway swallowed, the words coming hard. "Even though the procedures were established for an emergency of that nature, it still took a special kind of courage for those officers to remain at their posts as the plasma spilled. It wouldn't necessarily have been expected of anyone, no matter what the protocols dictated." She jumped off the bed and strode across the room. Seven saw her coming and therefore, was not surprised when Janeway took her arm and urged her around until they were face to face.
"You think that this was intended to force me into using an emergency transition jump." There was pure steel in her tone. "I would have returned with a horrific casualty rate and Starfleet would have been left with disturbing questions about the practicality and viability of Millennium and its transition drive."
Seven nodded slowly. "Perhaps before the next 'few days' have passed, an emergency transition jump is exactly what will be required."
Janeway's face went completely white.
Ro stared at the file on the viewscreen and found it difficult to catch her breath. How could Starfleet have missed this? How could she have missed it? She slapped her comm badge.
"Captain, I need to see you immediately."
"That's good, because I need to see you. I'm on the way to my ready room. Meet me there."
Ro downloaded the information onto a padd and left her office, heading for the nearest turbolift. On the bridge, T'Shanik rose from the comm, an eyebrow cocked inquiringly as the Bajoran crossed the upper deck without even glancing at the Vulcan. Her request for admittance was granted immediately and she entered the ready room, faltering a bit when she saw Seven standing in front of the desk. The memory of the last time she had seen her was very clear in her mind, the imposing Borg standing over the fallen captain, whirling to face Ro and the security team, ready to attack, her face a mask of twisted rage.
"Seven," she managed evenly.
"Commander Ro." Seven eyed her briefly and lowered her voice. "Thank you for stopping me."
Ro blinked, surprised by the comment. "I'm sorry we didn't detect the transporter signal in time. We let you down, Seven. Our sensors didn't perform up to expectations."
"I would like to discuss that with you," Seven said eagerly. "I believe that certain enhancements to the sensors would prevent any future—"
"Seven." The captain's voice was quiet, but it quelled Seven's enthusiasm immediately. Seven glanced at Ro, indicating that she would pursue the technical discussion at some future time, and the women took a seat. Janeway pinned Ro with a look. "Commander."
Ro wordlessly handed over the padd. Janeway read it, the corners of her mouth and eyes tightening visibly.
"How can this be?"
"I didn't get it from his file, I got it from hers. A passing mention of her father-in-law during a psyche evaluation. I think it was missed by Starfleet because his file has nothing at all regarding it, just data pertaining to his maternal family. If I hadn't gone over the files of the victims again, looking for some connection, no matter how tenuous, I never would have found it."
Janeway suddenly looked old. "Damn."
Seven was looking back and forth between them uncertainly, clearly baffled by the conversation. Ro inhaled deeply. "Peter Martin took his mother's name when he applied to Starfleet," she explained to the Borg. "His father's name was never mentioned."
"How is that relevant?"
"His mother's name is Cathy Martin," Janeway said in an eerily detached tone. "She was Cheb Packer's first wife. They also had a girl, Chandra. I never made the connection with Peter."
Seven appeared stunned. "Cheb Packer? The same man who was your first lover? The man who was a member of the Orion Syndicate and kidnapped you?"
"Ironically, it's starting to fit in a way I don't much like," Janeway said grimly. "Seven came up with a theory, Commander."
Seven blinked, still reeling from the news of her officer's ties with one of her more hated enemies, but she quickly recovered at the captain's prompting and filled Ro in about her speculation as to the real reason behind the sabotage in engineering. Ro shook her head after she had finished.
"It makes sense," she said unhappily. "If he wanted to humiliate you, Captain, and ruin your career, this would have been a perfect way to do it. I doubt Starfleet would have assigned you another command after bringing home a Terran casualty rate of 25%."
"He took an awful risk," Janeway said. "It wasn't simply a matter of losing so many crewmembers to transition psychosis, a jump could have destroyed the ship entirely. Besides, he and his family are Terran."
"He killed his wife," Seven interjected in a chill tone. "He deprived his son of his mother. It is possible he will consider it worth any cost to destroy you, Captain."
"Laura wasn't supposed to be there," Ro reminded them. "B'Elanna was late that day and kept Laura a good while afterward. She should have been back in her quarters when that bomb exploded. Besides, while it's entirely possible he knew about the casualty rate for an unsupported transition jump, which is available in the biometric specs, he still might not have known about all the engineering requirements, or the threat to the ship's structure." She glanced at Janeway. "And he and Laura weren't Terran, Captain. Although he claims Terran citizenship, he was actually born on Risa during one of Packer's business trips, and raised on Xanthras III where Laura is from."
"But why would Peter hate me that much?" Janeway said, obviously baffled. "Cathy divorced Packer when Peter was only a tottler. From what I understood from my mother, it wasn't a pleasant parting. I don't believe Cheb had much contact with his children after that."
"Peter may still have felt a great loyalty to his father." Seven paused, her face very still. "The ties between parent and child can be very strong regardless of the circumstances, not to mention, exceedingly ... complex."
Ro looked at her, wondering whether she was talking about Peter ... or herself. "Seven could be right, Captain. There's no way of knowing what connection Martin may have made with his father after he grew up. It's possible that they've been working together for some time. Peter might even have joined Starfleet at his father's bidding. Then, there's the disturbing thought that this could be a professional vendetta, something for which the Orion Syndicate is infamous. You and Seven were instrumental in destroying their homeworld and striking a severe blow to their operations. He could just be fulfilling a contract."
Janeway looked vaguely pale. "I'd rather think it was personal, that he hated me for killing his father or because Seven and I were instrumental in the financial downfall of the Packer Shipping Lines. Cheb had old fashioned ideas and as his eldest son, Peter would have been in line to inherit both wealth and power. In any event, there's enough there for you to bring him in for further interrogation."
"I'll attend to it personally, Captain."
Janeway dipped her head. "We also need a sweep of the ship. Seven's worried that he isn't finished. He may attempt further sabotage."
"I'll put all my security teams on it immediately, Captain."
Ro didn't wait to be dismissed, leaping from her chair and exiting the ready room. On the bridge, she immediately moved to her tactical console, shouldering aside, with little formality, the ensign covering it. She immediately dispatched several security teams to run a sweep through the ship, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Then she requested the location of the biometrics officer.
"Peter Martin is in his quarters," the computer recited quietly.
"Seal the door," Ro instructed. "Authorization Ro Laren, twenty-four green."
She reached into the nearby compartment, retrieving a phaser rifle. She was aware of T'Shanik's odd expression as she crossed the bridge to the turbolift, hefting the weapon gingerly. She knew she should call for backup of some sort, but she wanted to take this guy on her own. Martin owed a great deal for the pain he had caused the crewmembers of Millennium, not the least of which was the terrible guilt B'Elanna had experienced after Laura had died as a result of saving the chief engineer's life. Ro also had something to prove to the captain. In her mind, she had made a mess of this investigation from beginning to end, and bringing in Martin on her own seemed like the only way to restore her honor. Bajorans were a little like Klingons in that way. B'Elanna would understand Ro's reasoning, even if no one else did.
Ro paused outside the door of the Martin's family quarters, taking a moment to prepare herself. If he had tried the door during the time it had taken for her to travel down to this deck, he'd know something was up and be ready for her. Again, she considered calling for additional security but stubbornly resisted the idea. If she couldn't handle one puny science officer, then she wasn't much of a security chief.
She took a breath, overrode the entrance controls and lunged through the door, weapon at the ready.
It was empty.
Martin's comm badge was lying in clear sight on the table, and Ro bit off a curse. She made a quick sweep through the rooms, disturbed when she realized that all personal effects had been removed. She activated her comm badge.
"Computer, locate Bobby Martin." Children on starships this size had bio-neural transceivers injected in their right wrist rather than issued a comm badge, which studies had proven were easily misplaced during play. The tiny sub-dermal devices gave a mild warning tingle if a child entered a restricted zone, and also made it easy to locate a child quickly if he or she wandered off. Ro doubted that Peter would have had the time or inclination to perform minor surgery on his son just to remove it.
"Bobby Martin is currently in the Gamma Hangar."
Ro's curse was much louder. "Computer, site to site transport on my mark, this location to the gamma hangar deck. Engage."
She materialized on the main landing pad of the hangar, emptiness stretching for several meters around her. In their alcoves, the various support vessels for the starship crouched in the lowered illumination, their bulky shapes barely discernable in the darkness. Some instinct, honed of years in a Cardassian internment camp, Starfleet training and the Maquis, set off warning tingles at the back of her neck. She sprinted for cover, barely ahead of the phaser blasts that burned ugly streaks in the smooth deck. She ducked beneath the protective shelter of a heavy runabout, peering across the grayness of the hangar.
She tapped her comm badge for backup, wincing as feedback squealed through it. Some kind of dampening field was in place. My, my, she thought. Biometric officer, transporter expert, and communications specialist. Not much wonder the Orion Syndicate had snatched him up.
"Martin, there'll be a security team here in three minutes," she shouted. "Give yourself up before it's too late."
There was a pause and then, finally, a response. "I don't think so, Commander." Ro tried to determine the direction of the voice, but the hangar was so large that sound was distorted, echoing in the cavernous space. "If you had a team, they would be here with you right now."
Ro was humiliated to have to agree with him. She always knew her damned pride and that cursed streak of independence was going to get her into real trouble someday. She wondered if this was finally the day.
"It's all over, Pete. We know all about your ties to Cheb Packer and the Orion Syndicate."
There was a pause. Surprise? Shock? Or was his just stalling for time?
"Commander, I suggest you make your way into one of the shuttles. I'm leaving and I'll probably disrupt the containment field when I go."
Ro exhaled. "Tell me something, then," she yelled. Silence, and for a minute, she didn't think he would reply.
"What?"
"This thing with Janeway. Personal or professional?"
Another pause, longer this time. "The Syndicate does have a contract out on both Janeway and the Borg," he replied, confirming Ro's worst fears. "But I was more than glad to accept it for my own reasons. Now, either take cover, Commander, or get used to breathing vacuum."
Ro didn't think being sucked into space was anything she wanted to try. On the other hand, she couldn't very well stay hidden in the shadow of the T'kini. She tried to think. What would a fugitive want as an escape vehicle?
The heavy runabouts were the largest, but the science vessels currently had modules attached to them. It would take hours and a full ground crew to remove the mobile labs. Besides, when they were attached, the runabouts were ungainly, difficult to handle, and not particularly comfortable for traveling long distances. The fighters, meanwhile, were just that; one-person ships designed for speed and agility, with no room for amenities. That left the Tornado-class medium shuttle, or the delta flyers as they were better known, named for their predecessor on Voyager. The Delta Speeder was parked not far from where Ro was crouching. Nothing moved there. The Delta Wing was on the other side of the hangar, and Ro couldn't see it from her vantage point.
Taking a breath, the Bajoran uncoiled and began to sprint along the circumference of the main landing pad, using the parked vessels for cover wherever she could and staying low the rest of the time. At any moment, she expected the flyer to light up, its running lights activated, its pre-launch sequence initiated. The huge hangar doors would begin to separate, an alarm pealing loudly to warn those who were in the vicinity to clear the area. At that point, Ro knew she could duck into one of the fleet vessels, but she would lose her quarry in the faster flyer unless she took one of the fighters after him. The Bajoran grimaced. The speedy ships were reputed to be very tricky to handle, and without the necessary training, she'd probably crash into Millennium before going very far.
But nothing happened and she wondered at the delay. As she came in sight of the Delta Wing, she realized that Martin wasn't quite ready to leave. He was tossing various supplies frantically into the cargo space underneath the shuttle, hampered by the fact that he had to hold a phaser rifle in one arm. Obviously, he was planning on taking his chances in the Delta Quadrant.
Ro wondered why he thought that would be better than remaining on Millennium, even if it meant serving time in the brig. She suddenly had a very bad feeling about the whole situation and stepped out into the light, her rifle raised and aimed directly at the feverishly working scientist.
"Martin," she barked.
Startled, he dropped the heavy container of ration packets he was trying to wrestle into the compartment, belatedly swinging his rifle into place.
"Don't do it," Ro told him coldly. "You may be pretty good, but I'm better."
He looked over the barrel of his weapon, his face shaded an odd green, sweat oozing greasily down his face. "Don't come any closer."
Ro deliberately took a step toward him. "Put it down. Despite everything, Pete, I don't think you're a killer. You went out of your way to put Tarn in an escape pod."
He blinked. "She isn't dead?"
"We lied," Ro shrugged.
He licked his lips nervously. "No one was supposed to die, not her and not in engineering. They were all supposed to leave."
"And the transition jump? You must have known what that would do to a percentage of the crew."
"It would be Janeway who killed them, not me."
Typical rationalization, Ro thought. Just keep him talking and maybe I can get that rifle away from him before he does have to kill someone face to face. Someone like me.
"But it's really all about Janeway and Cheb Packer."
His face hardened. "He was my father. She destroyed him and everything he'd built."
"You're a father, too, Pete. What's your son going to think?"
"He'll understand why I did it," Martin said.
"Including killing his mother?"
"That was an accident!" Peter's voice raised hysterically. "She shouldn't have even been there. She wouldn't have if it hadn't been for your damned wife."
Ro decided she shouldn't continue that line of conversation. While her weapon was set to heavy stun, she doubted Martin's was. She noted that his finger was loose on the trigger, and with her own beginning to squeeze, she knew it was time to end this. They could discuss the details after he was tucked snugly into the brig.
She was completely unprepared when Martin abruptly rushed her, swinging his weapon wildly. The stock slammed into her arm, knocking her weapon away and driving her back. Struggling with him, she yanked his phaser rifle away as she collapsed, flipping him over her head and sending him through the air to land heavily on the deck. She wasted a few precious seconds switching the new weapon over to stun before flipping up the barrel and firing at Martin who had staggered to his feet.
Nothing happened, and dumbfounded, Ro realized the power pack had been drained. That's why he had rushed her. He must have used the last ergs of energy while shooting at her on the landing pad. Before she recovered from this unpleasant surprise, he bulled into her, knocking her over and closing his hands around her neck. She struggled, trying to pry the grasping fingers from her throat. She landed in a bad position, and he was using his greater body mass to the best effect. Feeling herself start to black out from the pressure, she applied a unique twist of leverage, knowing her back was going to pay for it later. Perhaps desperation lent an unnatural amount of strength to the throw. Martin cartwheeled through the air, landing awkwardly. There was a sickening crack, and he didn't rise again.
Gasping for breath, Ro rolled painfully to her feet and staggered over to the crumpled form. Peter's eyes stared sightlessly into the air, his neck set at an unnatural angle. He had impacted on one of the shuttle's landing struts, caving in his right temple. A tiny trickle of blood ran from his mouth and ears, pooling briefly on the deck.
"Damn it." Ro was disgusted with herself. She had handled this badly from beginning to end. She wouldn't blame the captain if she immediately found herself a new security chief. Another thought suddenly made the Bajoran's blood run cold, and Ro moved quickly to the hatch of the shuttle. She didn't know where the child was, and it made her sick to think that he might have witnessed her killing his father, particularly since revenge appeared to be such a family tradition.
Ro let her breath out in rush, relief flowing liquid within her when she found the boy sleeping peacefully on one of the pull down bunks in the rear compartment. Leaving Bobby there, she returned to the main cabin where she disengaged the signal blocking communications, wondering why Martin had been in such an all fired hurry to leave Millennium. Judging from the supplies he'd been loading, he had been planning for a long term disappearance. It would have taken some time to set up.
The escape attempt couldn't have been because he believed Ro was suddenly on to him.
"Janeway to Ro."
Ro blinked and tapped her comm badge. "Ro here."
"Has Mr. Martin been secured?"
Ro stared at the body through the viewscreen, her mouth tight. "Oh yes, Captain, he's secured."
"Then get down here to engineering. We have a bigger problem."
Janeway swallowed hard as she looked at the explosive bio-organic gel lining the underside of the warp manifold, wired into a detonation device that was counting down with inexorable steadiness. According to the illuminated readout, they had about three hours. It wasn't a lot of time.
"Look familiar?"
"Unfortunately, yes," Seven said imperturbably. She scanned the region with her tricorder as she knelt within the Jefferies tube. "It is the same compound that was used to destroy the geothermal power plant in the Noiro colony. Apparently, both Section 31 and the Orion Syndicate acquire their illicit weaponry from the same source."
Janeway wasn't sure she appreciated the irony and shifted uncomfortably on the metal mesh beneath her.
"What do you intend to do, Captain?" Seven asked, turning her head to meet Janeway's eyes.
Panic? Janeway didn't say it, but the thought was certainly foremost in her mind as she crouched on her hands and knees in the close confines of the conduit.
"Captain?"
Janeway glanced over her shoulder to see her security chief's head poking through the hatch. "Nice of you to join us, Commander Ro," Janeway managed in an even voice. "Mr. Martin?"
Ro pursed her lips. "There was a struggle." She paused. "I take full responsibility."
Janeway stared at her a moment, evaluating the pain and dismay behind the cool words, recognizing the pinched look around the dark Bajoran eyes that had already seen so much needless death.
"Unfortunate," Janeway noted mildly. "I was hoping he'd be able to give us some idea on how to remove this mess without blowing ourselves up." She took a moment to evaluate what was facing them, trying to come up with a course of action. Taking a breath, she looked back at her security chief. "Clear the area. Seven and I will attempt to disarm the detonation device."
Ro hesitated, looked as if she were about to protest, and then disappeared. Janeway looked back in time to see Seven frown, peer at the readings of her tricorder, and then again at the explosives decorating the underside of the warp manifold. Janeway didn't like the expression on her face, and she liked it even less when Seven revealed what she had discovered.
"Captain, these explosives have been extended into the conduit leading to both wrap cores. This will not force an emergency transition jump. This will rupture the antimatter containment fields entirely and destroy the ship." She dropped her head and looked directly into the captain's eyes, her ice blue gaze clear and brilliant. "I highly recommend that the crew be evacuated to safe haven and separated from the ship. Millennium can be placed on automated station keeping while I attempt to disarm the detonator."
Janeway opened her mouth to protest and then paused. If what Seven said was true, then she had a responsibility to her crew and couldn't waste precious time debating about it. She would need every second of those three hours to move over a thousand people to safety. Under normal circumstances, she would have remained on Millennium with Seven and had her first officer take charge of Safe Haven, but with Zar, the chief engineer and the ship's Wing Commander, on an away mission, Janeway's senior staff was depleted. She would have to command the evacuation herself. She wavered for another second, and then tapped her comm badge.
"All hands, this is the Captain. We are currently in a Condition Red. All senior officers to the secondary bridge. All alpha shift crewmembers to auxiliary stations. All other personnel report immediately to safe haven. Fleet pilots to your vessels and prepare for immediate launch."
She shot another look at Seven. "We'll take up a position a half million kilometers from the ship," she told her.
"Two million kilometers will be necessary in order to remain clear of any blast radius," Seven corrected immediately.
Janeway absorbed that. "Fine," she accepted. "Two million, but I'll leave a delta flyer in the vicinity to beam you out if you can't shut this down. Go to warp as soon as you're aboard."
Seven nodded. "Take care, Kathryn."
"You too, love." Janeway didn't like this, but she knew where her duty lay. Nor would it be the first time she found herself in the position of relying completely on Seven's unique abilities to save her ship. She crawled out of the tube, slipping awkwardly through the hatch. The engine room had been cleared, and Ro Laren was left alone at one of the consoles, switching the last of the systems over to automated command. She looked up as Janeway arrived. "Why are you still here?"
"Permission to remain with Seven," Ro requested formally. "I might be able to help her. My advanced tactical training included several courses on explosive disarmament."
Janeway hesitated and inclined her head. It wasn't protocol, but every instinct rebelled against abandoning Seven entirely. If she couldn't be here, then Ro was probably the only other person besides B'Elanna that Janeway would trust to keep her safe.
"Don't let her stay too long," Janeway instructed. "If there's no hope of disarming the detonator, then get the hell out of there."
"Aye, Captain."
Janeway didn't look back as she rushed out of engineering and headed for the auxiliary bridge located a few decks below the main command center. Millennium had been designed with a 'safe haven', based on an idea constructed in much rougher form on Voyager. All the auxiliary stations were located within a cylinder that rested snugly in the center of the starship's saucer section. A multi-deck, heavily armored survival vessel, capable of velocities reaching warp six, the entire crew could board it and escape in safe, if cramped, quarters from their doomed starship. It didn't even have to be to the nearest planet. Unlike escape pods, the survival vessel was designed so that voyages of a reasonable length could be undertaken, though it wasn't necessarily considered a true starship.
Janeway tried not to consider the fact that if Seven and Ro were unsuccessful, she and her crew would face much the same situation that she had several years earlier with Voyager; either settle on a planet or attempt to travel tens of thousands of light-years back to the Alpha Quadrant using traditional warp.trying to get home when it came looking for them. Janeway couldn't see herself settling for the colonization option. There was every chance another Frontier-class vessel would be launched to rescue them when they didn't return as scheduled, and she wanted to be in space, at least trying to find a way back.
Her face set in its firmest command mask, she entered the cramped confines of the auxiliary bridge. The illumination was dim, awash in crimson, and she took her seat in the command chair. It was jammed between the first officer's seat, which was empty, and the counselor's chair where Kes was already working at her console. Lt. T'Shanik covered operations while one of Ro's assistant security chiefs manned the tactical post, the stations at port and starboard respectively. At the front part of the small bridge, so close that Janeway could reach out and kick the back of his chair if she so chose, Nog activated the helm, preparing to detach the vessel from Millennium.
"Report."
"The evacuation is proceeding according to schedule," Kes said, studying the viewscreen attached to the arm of her chair as she acted as the interim first officer.
For the next hour and a half, Janeway was kept busy with making sure her crew was transferred to the new ship and settled into their crowded cabins. At any moment, she expected a hail from her partner, telling her that the bomb had been disarmed and they could abort the evacuation. As time grew short, however, and there was no communication from Seven, Janeway realized with alarm that she was running out of options.
"Helm, prepare to disengage from Millennium."
"Aye, Captain," Nog responded promptly as his gnarled hands moved over the compact helm. Lights spread over the various stations around them as the vessel activated its own power core rather than running off Millennium's warp engines. "Detaching umbilicals. Impulse engines are coming on line."
"Initiate separation."
There was a tiny shudder as the vessel quivered within its berth, and then a larger one as the airlocks sealed, the final connections with Millenium were severed, and Safe Haven detached from the mother ship.
"Thrusters only," Janeway instructed. "Take us clear."
She wrapped her fingers around the arms of her chair and tried to project calm and assurance as the vessel shivered and shook. On the fore viewscreen, a quarter the size of the one that graced the bridge of Millennium, she watched as the surrounding bulkheads began to slide upward.
"Captain, we're being hailed."
Janeway exhaled in relief. It was too late to abort separation, but at least they wouldn't have to travel too far. "Seven?"
"Uh, no, Captain, it's the Delta Sky," T'Shanik replied. "They're requesting permission to dock." She paused. "Correction, they request information about our situation."
Janeway felt the stab of disappointment sharp within her chest. "Fill them in and tell them to stand by," she instructed. "Leave Lt. Paris and the Delta Sky in position to take on Seven and Commander Ro if necessary. Beam everyone else onboard once we're clear of Millennium."
She set her jaw and leaned back in her chair as her new ship finally slipped clear, leaving Millennium cored, a gaping hole running through the center of the saucer section all the way up to deck five. It made the starship look gutted, fatally wounded, and Janeway had to repress a shudder of horror.
"Set a course two million kilometers away."
Janeway felt a surge press her back into the chair as the ship lumbered away from where Millennium drifted in vacuum, abandoned and alone. Around the survival vessel, the auxiliary fleet fell into formation, five delta flyers, three heavy runabouts, eighteen fighters and a host of class four shuttles. It was very organized, but Janeway still felt as if she were leading a ragtag fleet away from the promised land. She felt personally humiliated, a complete failure on so many levels that it defied analysis.
She looked up as the only doors to the bridge slipped open, the hiss loud and harsh. Commander Zar moved adroitly to his chair and settled in beside the captain.
"Ensign Tarn is in sickbay. She regained consciousness when we were halfway back." He paused. "I guess you know Peter Martin shoved her into the escape pod."
"That's the least of what he's done," Janeway frowned. "Where's B'Elanna?"
"She volunteered to help Ro and Hansen." He tilted his head. "I saw no reason to deny the request."
Janeway nodded. "She might do more good there than here." She studied her first officer's face. He had a very odd expression altering his boney features. "Commander?"
"You know, we had a good view of Safe Haven leaving the ship." He hesitated, as if searching for the proper words. "It was ... uh, quite impressive, Captain."
Janeway frowned. "I'm sure it was." It may have been a magnificent sight, but Janeway had more pressing matters concerning her. "If Seven can't complete her mission, we're going to have to carefully consider our options."
Zar nodded, sobering. "I can't recommend the planet Tarn visited. It may have been M-class, but it nearly killed her, and us too. The seismic instability is extreme."
"I'd rather find a planet a little closer to the Alpha Quadrant, assuming we choose colonization."
"Are you contemplating a journey back," he asked in a low tone. "In this?"
"It's another option."
"The auxiliary fleet isn't designed for long voyages."
"Neither was Voyager." Janeway exhaled. "We may have to leave some of the heavy runabouts behind. Maybe the fighters as well, though they are now our best means of defense." She stopped. The conversation was depressing her and it wasn't really necessary to have it right now. She looked at the viewscreen where the silvery outline of her starship hung like a Christmas ornament against the sparkling backdrop of space. There was still time.
If only Seven came through as Janeway hoped and prayed she would
A shudder ran through the entire ship, making the two women, Borg and Bajoran, jerk their hands back from the delicate work they had been doing.
"Safe Haven has been launched," Ro noted. Sweat was beading on her forehead, and she took the opportunity to wipe it away with the sleeve of her uniform.
Seven lifted a brow. "I believe you are correct." She glanced at the detonator. "We do not have much time left." The last two and a half hours had flown by as she and the security chief attempted several methods of disarming the bomb without setting it off, but to no avail. They hadn't blown themselves up, but by the same token, they hadn't stopped the advance of the timer by one second.
Once the shuddering had stopped, Seven and Ro resumed their inspection of the internal mechanism that lay exposed to the stuffy air of the Jefferies tube. It had taken this long to remove the casing of the detonator, and Seven wasn't sure there was enough time left to thoroughly scan the interior, let along come up with a way to bypass it.
"Hey."
The sound of B'Elanna's voice nearly caused Ro to fall over and Seven to draw back her tricorder quickly for a second time. The women looked over at B'Elanna who had her head poking through the hatch. The Klingon absorbed the irritated looks, a sheepish expression crossing her face.
"Sorry," she muttered.
"What are you doing here?" Ro demanded.
"I was in the neighborhood." B'Elanna crawled the rest of the way into the tube. "Tom's standing by with the Delta Sky to beam us out of here if necessary. Rather than wait with him, I thought I'd be more useful here." She eyed the device they were working on with interest. "Nasty."
"It is," Seven agreed coolly. "Any suggestions?"
"Tried bypassing the chronometer circuit?"
"Immediately."
"Tried putting a force field around the transmission signal?"
"There is a scrambler pulse in place."
"Tried running a repeater function through the timer?"
"Yes." Seven lifted her chin. "B'Elanna, we have tried everything we could think of. There is no point in restating the obvious methods of disarmament, and we have also considered all the less obvious methods. Commander Ro has much experience in this as a result of her tactical training."
"I hate to admit it, but this is a work of art," Ro said with grudging admiration. "Martin thought of everything this time."
B'Elanna tilted her head. "I suppose picking it up and throwing it out the nearest airlock is out of the question."
Seven stared at her. "There is, of course, a motion sensor within the device." She should have been more angered at her friend's inappropriate attitude toward the situation, but truthfully, her mind had been running desperately around in circles, and B'Elanna's humor, as ill timed as it seemed, served to calm and refresh her. She inhaled slowly, looking back at the device as new ideas bubbled to the surface.
Radical ideas.
Seven was not, by nature, a radical person. It may have seemed to others unfamiliar with her background that she was unorthodox, but the truth was, Seven's Borg conditioning made her as logical as a Vulcan and as precise as the most conservative scientist. Years of exposure to both her spouse and B'Elanna, had taught her to consider imagination as vital a source for solutions as technical knowledge and research, but it wasn't natural for her to fall back on that unless there was no other choice.
There was no other choice.
"A merged energy pulse," she announced.
Both Ro and B'Elanna shot astonished looks at her. "What?" Ro was frankly skeptical. "Seven, that requires a lattice of energy patterns that are so precisely spaced, there's no room for error. We're more apt to advance the detonation than stop it."
"I don't think we have the equipment to set up the attempt, either," B'Elanna added helpfully.
"We are running out of time. There are only fifteen minutes left."
"We still have time to beam to the flyer," Ro said seriously. "In fact, the captain made me promise to bring you back. If this doesn't work, we could destroy ourselves, and the Delta Sky as well."
"I insist on attempting it. You must transport out of here and have the Delta Sky withdraw to a safe distance. The risk is entirely mine."
B'Elanna snorted. "And tell the captain we left you behind? Do the words 'fate worse than death' mean anything to you?"
Ro studied her tricorder. "Seven, I honestly don't think you can make this work. It would be futile."
"It must work," Seven said simply and began to adapt a spanner. What she hoped to do was burn out the various energy pathways running through the device simultaneously. It had to be absolutely at the same time. If any one of the crucial relays was not destroyed or lagged even a fraction of a nanosecond in its destruction, then the device would send the signal to the neurogenic triggers laced throughout the explosives, causing it to explode. It was definitely a measure of last resort.
Ro exhaled audibly. "Then I'll do it, Seven. You and B'Elanna beam out of here." Ro shared a long look with her spouse.
"Unacceptable." Seven did not look up from her adaptations. "You lack the ability to make adjustments this precise."
B'Elanna held the look from her spouse, eyes speaking volumes. "I agree with Seven."
Ro swallowed hard. "You go, then. At least one of us will be safe."
"Without you? You're being foolish."
"You are both being foolish," Seven said calmly.
"So what else is new?"
Seven lifted the spanner, eyeing it in the muted light of the Jefferies tube. Such a simple device, yet it could save them all. Had her adjustments to the field's alignment been exacting enough? Had her cortical implant provided the necessary microscopic precision to make such finite alterations in its programming?
It would have to be enough.
"I am ready," she announced.
Ro and B'Elanna exchanged looks, and then Ro nodded. As the senior officer, she had to give the order. "Go ahead."
As Seven carefully put the spanner in exactly the right position, she noted that the other women reached for each other, their hands entwining firmly. A part of Seven wished Janeway was there with her to hold her hand as well, though another part was content that the captain and her crew were safe and far away.
She took a breath and applied the spanner as thousands of tiny energy beams, precisely aligned, lanced out from the tip of the device and burned through the detonator's interior.
"Uh, Seven ... the timer changed." There was a note of panic in B'Elanna's voice. "You advanced it."
The numbers flashed with cold efficiency.
Five. Four.
Seven blinked as B'Elanna and Ro flattened to the metal mesh deck of the Jefferies tube, their arms covering their heads.
Three. Two.
B'Elanna made a small sound in the back of her throat.
One.
"Curious," Seven said calmly. "Do you truly believe that covering your heads and hiding your eyes will somehow protect you from total annihilation?"
Ro was first to raise her head when the expected explosion did not materialize. "It was instinct, Seven," she said dryly as she sat up. She eyed her. "Frankly, I'm surprised you didn't react in a similar fashion, no matter what your conditioning."
Seven lifted her shoulder slightly in a shrug. "I knew it would work."
B'Elanna was hyperventilating, hugging her knees as she leaned against the nearest bulkhead. "One of these days, Borg, you're going to be wrong."
"Perhaps you will even be there to witness that, my friend." She paused. "But I doubt it."
"What, that'll you'll be wrong or that I'll be there to see it?"
Seven considered it. "Both."
She made some further adjustments to her tricorder and placed it very carefully on the detonator. "Computer, utilizing the adapted transporter beam, transport all explosive compound, neurogenic triggers and detonator to a location five hundred thousand kilometers off the port bow. Fire phasers and destroy it."
Sparkles and the hum of a transporter surrounded the women as the computer complied with Seven's request. There was a brief pause, a moment of calm, and then a subtle shudder ran through the ship. The three women looked at each other and the Klingon managed a toothy grin.
"We should contact the captain, though if that didn't tell her things were all right, nothing will."
"Delta Sky to away team."
Ro touched her comm badge. "Go ahead, Paris."
"Relayed from the captain," Tom said. "Strong work, everyone."
"Understood," Ro said. "Confirm Millennium is secured. Tell them to come on home."
"On our way."
The three women crawled out of the Jefferies tube and Seven was relieved to be in the spacious surroundings of main engineering. B'Elanna made a beeline to the nearest work station, bringing the ship's engines back online, and Seven took a moment to relax the tension that had tightened her shoulders. As she shifted them, she glanced over at Ro who was leaning somewhat weakly against the railing that bracketed the dual warp cores.
"Commander,"
"Yes, Seven?"
"What of Bobby Martin?"
Ro's eyes were sad. "He was asleep the entire time, Seven. After ... dealing with Martin, I contacted one of Bobby's teachers. He's with her on Safe Haven." She bent her head. "I didn't mean to kill his father."
"Lt. Martin undoubtedly left you with no choice, Laren," Seven offered with as much comfort as she could. She flicked an eyebrow. "Bobby will be better off without a parent who is so destructive."
"Perhaps," Ro said, and then shrugged, as if attempting to move out from beneath such a burden. She even managed a laugh, more bitter than humorous, shaking out her arms as she changed the subject. "Prophets, I'm still shaking. I guess I'm getting a little too old for this."
Now that she had a moment to think about it, and how close it had been, Seven clasped her hands tightly behind her back, perhaps to prevent them from trembling. "It was a most harrowing experience."
"Well, I have something that will cheer you up," B'Elanna said over her shoulder as she gestured at her console. "I've set up the sensors to record Safe Haven's approach vector. Come take a look at this and tell me what you see."
Bemused, Seven and Ro joined the engineer who was bent over the viewscreen. At first, all that was visible was a tiny pinprick of light in the darkness of space. It gradually came closer, surrounded by smaller lights, resolving into an entire fleet of ships homeward bound. As soon as they were in range, the auxiliary vessels immediately broke off and headed for their respective hangars, leaving Safe Haven by itself.
Seven lifted a brow. She had never actually seen the emergency ship that normally resided within the heart of Millennium. Separated from the starship, it was a long, fat, cylinder-shaped vessel, painted battleship gray, with a rounded, slightly larger top where the auxiliary bridge and senior quarters were located. The main body of the ship was lined with raised bulges randomly located where various conduits and cables ran throughout the hull. At the rear of the vessel, short, stubby nacelles, attached directly to the thick base, powered the heavily armored survival vessel.
The women watched as it maneuvered into place beneath the Millennium, taking considerable time to slip back into its berth within the starship, slowly thrusting into the opening beneath the saucer section to completely fill the large, gaping cavity.
"Oh, Prophets," Ro said, leaning over B'Elanna's shoulder. She snorted, tried to restrain it, and then suddenly started to laugh, as much in relief from the end of their ordeal as in amusement. B'Elanna, meanwhile, was giggling so hard she could barely speak.
"Isn't that positively obscene?" she whooped between gurgles of laughter. "We noticed it when we were returning from the away mission. We arrived just as it was pulling out of the ship and none of us said a word, but I know we were all thinking the same exact thing. Zar must have turned ten shades of red. I didn't even know a Cardassian could blush, let alone that hard. And Tom looked positively green. I'm sure it was from envy. I can't imagine who in Starfleet Command would have designed it to look like that."
Seven lifted her chin as she abruptly recognized the source of B'Elanna and Ro's mirth. She wondered if the captain was aware of the similarity. Somehow, she did not believe so.
Safe Haven bore a passing, if incredibly gigantic, resemblance to the Wonder Wand 9000™.
Epilogue
Kes sat alone in her quarters, legs crossed beneath her. The ship was safe and had resumed its course deeper into the Delta Quadrant, going as far as they could before they were scheduled to open up a transition conduit and return to the Federation. Martin's death had shocked the crew, particularly when the details had come out, but most were adjusting well, and peace had resumed on the lower decks.
Far more entertaining to the crew was the knowledge of what masculine body part Safe Haven resembled when detached from the mother ship. Speculation abounded as to whether it was some form of deliberate joke on the part of the engineering design team at Utopia Planitia, somehow slipping it by Starfleet Command, or something that had happened accidentally with all the alterations that naturally occur during a major starship construction. But none of the crew indulged in such speculation within earshot of the captain. Janeway's temper was decidedly suspect regarding the topic ever since B'Elanna made a visit to her ready room after their return and offered up a visual display of Safe Haven's triumphant docking to Millennium.
Kes supposed that the thought of coming so close to having to captain such a vessel 75,000 light years back to the Alpha Quadrant was most unpalatable to Janeway.
Aside from that, things were quiet on the starship. They were quiet in the quadrant.
They were even fairly quiet in the galaxy.
Kes lifted her head, frowning.
It was gone.
That threat that had send her unerringly back to her other self, that had caused her to undergo specialized training by Guinan to combat it, was gone, snuffed out as if it had never existed. Something else must have confronted it there in the bleak reaches of space between galaxies and somehow defeated it. Kes and her still fragile abilities would not be required now or at any time in the future. At least, not for that particular threat. She felt relief and ironically, a little disappointment, as if she had been cheated of some glorious fate, though a part of her was sardonically amused at such hubris. If it had been as bad as Guinan had predicted, they might not have prevailed. It was just as well something else had taken care of it, leaving most sentient beings in the various quadrants not even knowing that it had been out there, lurking, ready to unleash its distructive force on the galaxy.
Kes wondered if she would ever discover what it had been, why it had been heading for the Alpha Quadrant, and what had removed it from consideration. She supposed she'd never know. Not all knowledge was there for her to uncover.
And not all stories had the opportunity to be told.
The End