chapter 8

 

 

Although she was off duty the next day, Janeway notified Chakotay that she was taking his shift and he should get some rest. She ended up working a double shift. Voyager’s engines and deflectors were back up to one hundred percent, but her weapons and defensive shields were still only partially operational and wouldn’t get any better until they could find some parts and materials. Seven had focused her efforts in Astrometrics solely upon finding a viable planet for trading, and by the end of Janeway’s second shift had finally located a good prospect:  a warp-capable culture on the fifth planet of a system less than a day’s travel at high warp. The third planet of the system contained several of the raw materials on B’Elanna’s List, so if they were lucky they might be able to finish repairs and stock up on supplies as well. The trip would take them well off their heading, but Janeway felt naked with weapons at only sixty-three percent and shields less than that. Getting Voyager back up to full operational capacity was her highest priority.

She scheduled the away team and smiled bitterly to herself as she added her own name, remembering her discussion with Chakotay earlier in the week. Then she’d wanted off the ship because she was bored. Now she wanted off because she needed to keep busy, to not think about the turn her personal life had taken. She couldn’t afford to think about it; Voyager needed her now.

When she returned to her quarters late that night, she found two messages from Lynne asking for a chance to talk. She hesitated in front of her terminal, then turned it off and went to bed.

 

 

-----

 

 

The planet was called Dakmor and, Janeway thought ruefully, it appeared to be inhabited by a race of bureaucrats. She’d never seen so much red tape. The Dakmorians had rules for everything, and appeared to need total control. The fleshy, paunchy humanoid who answered their hail assured her that the away team was welcome to trade on Dakmor, but they were not allowed to transport down. Shuttle arrivals and departures had to be cleared in advance, and could only fly in through a portal in a force field that shielded the entire main city. They were not allowed to bring energy weapons. They would please read the extensive list of regulations being transmitted, and of course they were responsible for their compliance. Any non-compliance would be dealt with according to Dakmorian law. Thank you and enjoy your stay on Dakmor.

Janeway perused the regulations and shook her head. It’s a wonder they don’t regulate bathroom breaks. That’s probably in the fine print.

She’d had to think hard about stopping here when their sensors had picked up the orbiting weapon platforms protecting the planet. The Dakmorians had offensive technology that could turn Voyager into Swiss cheese, and their defensive technology was equally impressive. But the number of ships parked around the planet, from quite a few different cultures, spoke of a healthy trading system. Apparently, the Dakmorians were simply very careful about protecting their planet and space. She’d seen no signs of aggression while approaching the system, nor did the regulations indicate anything but a desire to control access to the planet. And Voyager’s needs were just too great. They had to acquire those supplies, and Dakmor was the only game in town.

Once the proper clearances were received, Tom piloted the shuttle to their approved landing site at the city’s central port. After making their way through the most stringent security check she’d ever seen, the away team emerged into the city itself. It was a huge place, bustling with commerce, and B’Elanna was looking forward to the engineer’s version of shopping. Janeway found herself looking forward to it as well, if only because she was increasingly confident that this place could fulfill most, if not all, of their needs. Not being able to simply beam up their goods would be a pain in the ass, but they’d done it the hard way before and would again.

She split the away team into two units, sending B’Elanna, Tom and a security officer in one direction while she, Tuvok, and a second security officer went the other. Each had their list, and they would keep in contact as they located various items. Just as the team was about to set out, Janeway’s communicator came to life.

“Bridge to Captain Janeway.” It was Chakotay.

“Go ahead.”

“Captain, be advised that in addition to the force field, the Dakmorians appear to have some sort of jamming field over the city. We do not have transporter locks.”

“Acknowledged.” Although she wasn’t expecting trouble, Janeway had long since learned to be careful. “Does it cover other areas?”

“We’re checking on that. Stand by.”

The away team stood around, watching people go by on the shuttleport’s moving sidewalks, while they waited for word from the ship. Eventually it came.

“Captain, the field covers the entire planet, but it’s more focused over the cities.”

“Got it. Thank you, Chakotay; we’ll try to stay out of trouble. The team is splitting up; keep an eye on us even if you can’t keep a lock.”

“Acknowledged. Have fun shopping, and don’t forget the curtains for the bridge.”

Janeway smiled at the gentle banter. “Polka dot okay?”

“I was thinking paisley, but you get whatever you think is best.”

“I always do. Janeway out.” She looked around at the team, some of whom were trying to hide their amusement. “All right, let’s go. Be careful, stay out of trouble, and keep an eye out for paisley curtains.”

There were nods all around, and the crewmembers moved off in opposite directions.

 

 

-----

 

 

Several hours later, Janeway was feeling pretty good about things. They’d made several trips back to the shuttle, laden down with supplies, and Tom had already flown two full loads back to Voyager. The city was a bustling trade center, featuring everything she could think of and quite a few things she’d never heard of, and they had already crossed nearly all of the items off B’Elanna’s List. B’Elanna and her team had gone back with the last shuttle, since they now had what they needed to finish repairs to the weapons and shields, leaving Janeway’s team to wrap things up. She anticipated being off the planet in another hour.

All in all it had been a surprisingly pleasant day, despite the red tape she’d had to wade through at the beginning. Tuvok approved of the clean and orderly nature of both the city and its inhabitants, and Janeway had to admit she was appreciating it as well. After some of the places they’d seen in the Delta Quadrant, this was refreshing.

They stepped out of the store where they’d purchased some electronic parts of surprisingly good quality, and stopped to consult the List. Janeway was just about to suggest their next destination when a shout rang out to their right. Looking up, Janeway saw a young Dakmorian boy running toward her, his face white with fear. A siren sounded, and lights went on over the red platforms at the intersection behind the boy. They’d noticed those platforms at all four corners of every intersection in the city, and had wondered what they were for. She turned as the boy ran past her, and saw that the platforms at the next intersection were lit as well. A moment later, four Dakmorians in identical black uniforms materialized on the platforms and immediately began running toward the boy. He dashed across the street toward an alley, but four more uniformed men from the other intersection got there ahead of him. All eight men piled onto the boy, swinging fists and boots. Janeway took an instinctive step forward, but stopped herself just before Tuvok said, “Captain.”

“I know, Tuvok,” she said. “It’s not our fight.” It was difficult to watch, but she couldn’t turn away. Soon the police officers stood up and dragged the now-limp boy up off the street. Two officers supported his unconscious body between them as the group made their way to an intersection. Three men stepped onto platforms, while the boy was stuffed into the fourth. As soon as they vanished, three more men transported, leaving two for the final transport. The street was quiet and nearly empty. A few pedestrians hurried away from the area, their eyes cast downward. No one had even stopped to watch the altercation—it was obvious that the inhabitants didn’t want to draw attention to themselves.

Janeway looked around, seeing the city with new eyes.

“Tuvok,” she said, “I think your nice, orderly city is that way for a reason.”

“Agreed,” he answered. “It would be advisable to complete our mission and depart as soon as possible.”

“You’ll get no argument from me.”

A somber threesome quickly located and purchased the last available items on the List. The immense sense of satisfaction that Janeway would normally have felt at their near-perfect success rate was tempered by the memory of the beating they’d witnessed. All she wanted to do now was get off this planet and be on their way.

They were loading the last items in the shuttle when Janeway’s communicator activated.

“Bridge to Captain Janeway.”

“Go ahead, Chakotay.”

“Captain, this may sound like an odd question, but is there anyone left on the planet besides you, Commander Tuvok, and Lieutenants Paris and Parker?”

“No.” Janeway didn’t like the sound of this.

“Just confirming the computer records. Captain, we’re picking up a fourth human life sign in the city. It’s about one kilometer away from you and…stand by.”

Janeway and Tuvok looked at each other while they waited.

“Sorry about that, Captain, Harry was just confirming something. The life sign also has a Borg signature. We’re checking now for signs elsewhere in the system.” Another long pause.

“Captain, we’re picking up no other signals. This appears to be the only Borg signature within reach of our sensors.”

Tuvok’s eyebrow went up. “Borg do not usually travel alone.”

“No.” Janeway’s mind was working furiously. “And the sensors picked the sign up as human first, and Borg second. Which means this may be a former Borg.”

“There aren’t too many former Borg around, except in the Cooperative.” Chakotay was referring to a colony of escaped ex-Borg they had met nearly four years ago. They had inducted his mind into a mini-collective and then imposed their own will on him, manipulating him into helping them create a new hive mind. Janeway knew he’d never gotten over his sense of betrayal and hatred from that event.

“The Cooperative is a considerable distance behind us, Captain,” said Tuvok.

“True, but distance doesn’t mean the same thing to Borg as it does to us. And if this is a colonist, then he or she is probably separated from their hive mind. Which means we could have a Federation refugee on our hands—quite a few of those ex-Borg were from the Alpha quadrant.”

Tuvok nodded, and there was silence while everyone waited for the captain’s orders. It didn’t take long.

“Chakotay, download the location to our tricorders. We’re going to check it out.”

“Coordinates are downloading now, Captain. Be careful.”

“Aren’t I always?” muttered Janeway. She waited until her tricorder flashed with the new information, then added, “Coordinates received. Janeway out. Tom, stay with the shuttle. Tuvok, Parker, you’re with me.”

It took a little less than fifteen minutes to narrow the search down to one city block. They split up, Parker going one way while Tuvok and Janeway went the other. Janeway changed her tricorder setting and began scanning for a human life sign. She found it at the same time that Tuvok discreetly pointed.

“There,” he said, indicating a figure in a hooded coat. Janeway nodded; the Dakmorians didn’t usually wear hoods. She saw Parker approach from the opposite side and waved him off. All three followed the figure at a distance.

After several minutes of watching their target examine food products at a grower’s stall, Janeway had made two observations. This person did not behave like a Borg, and he or she handled everything with the right hand only. The left hand stayed hidden in the coat.

“It’s not Borg,” she said.

Tuvok nodded. “Though obviously attempting to hide Borg components. I expect the left hand is cybernetic, and there are likely to be implants on the face or neck.”

“I’m going to approach. Stay here, and tell Parker not to assist unless I call for it.”

She left Tuvok speaking quietly into his comm badge, and casually walked up next to the figure. Pulling an unrecognizable fruit from a bin, she looked at it and said, “Excuse me, but do you know what this is?”

The hood turned toward her, but not far enough to reveal the face.

“No, I don’t.” The voice was low and distinctly female.

“Not surprising. There aren’t too many of these in the Federation, are there?”

The woman went very still, then raised her head and turned to fully face Janeway. She had dark skin, pronounced cheekbones and almost black eyes.

Holding out her hand, Janeway said, “I’m Captain Kathryn Janeway, of the starship—”

“Voyager, yes, I know,” said the woman, as they shook hands. “I am…Revi Sandovhar. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Janeway put the fruit down, waving away the shopkeeper with a no thank you. “You’re a long way from the Cooperative.”

Revi smiled. “Well done, Captain. And you’ve also made it further than we thought you would.”

Janeway shuddered internally at the “we,” but Revi showed no signs of being part of a collective. Still…

“What happened to the hive mind?”

Revi paused before answering. “You don’t agree with our actions,” she said. Her cool, matter-of-fact tone was so reminiscent of Seven that Janeway felt a chill run down her spine.

“You used a human being against his will,” said Janeway.

“It was for the greater good,” said Revi. “Thousands would have died without his help.”

“It was still wrong.”

Another pause.

“Yes, it was,” said Revi. Her voice was warmer now, and a little regretful. “We thought we were so much better than the Borg, but ethics have a way of slipping when it’s crunch time.”

Crunch time. The phrase was one Janeway used often, and she had gotten it from her father. As far as she knew, it was a uniquely Starfleet phrase.

“The hive mind is still active,” Revi continued. “But once we had brought order to the population, we backed off on our transmissions. We tried to find a way to keep order and still allow for as much individuality as possible. It’s a fine line to walk, Captain. In the end, several people petitioned to be released from the hive mind, in order to achieve full individuality. The ruling council did not want to keep members in the collective against their will.” She raised her eyebrow, acknowledging the irony. “Nor could we allow the former chaos to return. So we agreed to allow the petitioners their freedom. The price was voluntary banishment.”

“You were on the council, weren’t you?” Janeway was fairly certain the plural pronouns weren’t just collective-speak.

“Yes. It was I who suggested the compromise. And now I’m paying the price for my freedom.”

Janeway looked at the hood, and the left hand that still had not emerged from its pocket. “Is it worth it?”

Revi laughed shortly. “Prejudice, hatred, and fear wherever I go? Oh, certainly, Captain. Freedom is sweet. But nobody told us that individuality really meant being alone.”

“It doesn’t have to,” said Janeway.

“Spare me the platitudes, Captain. You forget that we saw into Chakotay’s mind while he was connected. We saw his hatred for the Borg, and though he changed his opinion while with us, most people don’t have that kind of immersion. They just hold on to that hatred. It doesn’t matter what we were before; once a Borg, always a Borg, apparently.”

“Seven of Nine might not agree with you.”

Revi looked up sharply. “Who?”

“Seven of Nine. My astrometrics officer.” Janeway waited for that to sink in.

“You have a Borg on your crew?”

“No, I have an ex-Borg on my crew.”

Clearly, Revi hadn’t expected that. She stared at Janeway for a long moment before clearing her throat.

“How long?”

“Pardon?”

“How long has Seven of Nine been with you?”

“Three years now. It hasn’t been easy for her, because she was assimilated as a child and raised by the Borg. She’s had to learn about individuality, but I’m proud to have her on my crew—and even more proud to call her my friend.”

Revi’s eyes widened at the words. Then a smile shaped her lips, a real one that went all the way to her eyes. “I would like to meet your Seven of Nine.”

“She’s not mine, but I think she’d like very much to meet you as well.” Janeway smiled back at her. “Will you accompany us back to Voyager?”

A small gust of wind blew Revi’s hood back and Janeway caught a glimpse of Borg hardware on the side of her jaw. Quickly Revi replaced the hood. “Thank you for the invitation, Captain. I would be delighted.”

Janeway nodded, and Revi fell into step beside her as she turned toward Tuvok. Neither of them noticed the shopkeeper’s fearful look at he scurried to the back of his stall.

Tuvok and Parker converged on them, but were still fifteen meters away when the siren went off. The red platforms ahead of them lit up, and a moment later four of the black-clad police materialized and ran toward them. Janeway looked behind her to see which poor unfortunate was in trouble this time, but saw only the shopkeeper and a few pedestrians—and another set of four police running toward them. When she looked ahead again, it was obvious that she and Revi were the target. In a moment the first set of men shoved her aside and piled on Revi, who reacted with the lightning speed and strength of a Borg. Bodies went flying in all directions, and Revi straightened up with a snarl. Her hood had come off and her left arm was out, revealing a cybernetic attachment going all the way up to her elbow. Long black hair streamed as she whipped around to meet the next attack; the four police from the intersection behind them had caught up. Janeway saw even more uniforms coming toward them and, in a purely instinctive decision, went back-to-back with Revi. Based on what she’d seen of the law here, Revi would probably vanish forever if the police carried her off. But if Janeway went with her, the ex-Borg had a much better chance of getting out of this.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Tuvok and Parker running toward them, but she couldn’t let them get involved. She needed Tuvok back on Voyager so that Chakotay would know what had happened, and besides, two more people weren’t going to make a difference in the wave of police now pouring over them.

“Tuvok! Get out now!” she shouted, then ducked a roundhouse blow and came up with a palm to her attacker’s chin, snapping his head back. A follow up kick to the side of his knee and the officer howled and dropped like a rock. Chakotay’s going to love bailing me out of this one, she thought. The familiar, fierce joy she always felt in a good brawl came bubbling up, and together she and Revi disabled a large number of Dakmorians. But the police kept coming and Janeway knew it was a losing battle. It wasn’t too much longer before she felt a hard blow to the back of her head, and her battle was over.

 

 

 

 

---

Chapter 9

 

 

Chakotay paced the ready room, waiting for a return transmission from the officious Dakmorian who’d smugly informed him that his captain and the Borg were being held for crimes against the state. It had taken him nine calls, each time being passed off to a different person, before he’d finally connected with this idiot. So far he’d learned nothing but the general charge, which by itself had shocked him. Crimes against the state for a street brawl with the local police? Tuvok’s report had been delivered in his usual crisp, detached tones, but Chakotay could read between the lines. Tuvok and Parker had watched Janeway and the Borg go down under a pile of at least twenty police, and both were unconscious and bloody when they were dragged to the nearest transporter pad. Voyager’s sensors had located them on the other side of the city, in a complex that held a large number of Dakmorian life signs in a very small area. Obviously Janeway had gotten herself thrown in jail. Both hers and the Borg’s life signs were stable, but they weren’t moving, and it had already been six hours. God only knew how badly they’d been beaten.

Chakotay’s options were not good. Starfleet regulations stated that every member of Starfleet must abide by the laws of the culture they were visiting, and if they broke those laws, they were punished according to the culture. Those regulations had led to a few tragedies, but as a whole they were necessary to keep Starfleet from turning into an imperialistic force, immune to any law but its own. Janeway herself had reluctantly allowed both B’Elanna Torres and Tom Paris to undergo trials on planets where they’d been accused of a crime, working within the system to prove their innocence. He knew she would expect him to do the same. If only he could get the stupid sonofabitch bureaucrat to tell him specific charges and expected procedures!

When the return call finally came through, it didn’t make him feel any better. The Dakmorian officer, who called himself a Protector, informed him that Janeway would be held until trial, which would commence in two day’s time. Bail was not an option. The charges would not be dropped, no matter what Chakotay said.

“I expect the trial to be short,” said the Protector. “After all, we have sixteen wounded officers and another twelve who were there but escaped uninjured. Thirty officers of the Protectorate!” He shook his head. “The Protectorate takes a dim view of those who would attack it.”

“My captain and her friend did not attack your Protectorate,” said Chakotay. “They were defending themselves against an unprovoked attack.”

“An attack against officers of the Protectorate is an attack against the Protectorate itself,” said the officious man. Chakotay felt an urgent need to strangle him. “And the altercation was not unprovoked. A shopkeeper reported the presence of a Borg drone in the city! You can imagine our concern. The Borg threat is constant and not taken lightly; the drone had to be neutralized. Your captain chose to ally herself with an enemy of the state, which is of course a crime against the state. I am sorry.” He didn’t look sorry at all. “The Protectorate takes care of its own.”

“Who will be representing them at the trial?” Chakotay asked, willing himself not to show any anger.

“The Borg will not be tried; drones are probed for information and then destroyed. As for your captain, the court will assign a trial officer. That is only a formality, of course.”

“May we conduct our own investigation? Perhaps we could…assist the court in determining the details of the crime.”

“You are welcome to your own investigation, but you will find it rather a waste of time. There is little that could counter the testimony of thirty officers of the Protectorate.”

“Nevertheless, we will be sending our officers down.”

“Notify the Border Guard. That is not my concern.” The Protector’s tone was growing impatient.

“Thank you,” said Chakotay, gritting his teeth. “One more question, Protector. What is the sentence in the event of a guilty verdict?”

“Proven enemies of the state are destroyed immediately after trial. But the Protectorate is merciful; your captain’s death will be quick and painless.”

Chakotay thought of Janeway’s battered body, unmoving for nearly seven hours now, and somehow doubted the Protector’s word.

“Be aware, Mr. Chakotay,” said the Protector, “that in situations such as this, we cannot allow any misguided thoughts of attempted rescue. Your ship has some powerful armaments, but I assure you that the Protectorate’s offensive capability is stronger. We have targeted your ship, and should any of your crew make any…unfortunate errors, we will not hesitate to destroy you. I’m sure this is an unnecessary precaution, of course, but we are obligated to inform you of the regulations.”

Chakotay was reeling, but he managed to find the appropriate words to end the call. He stood at the desk for a moment, then threw a PADD against the wall with all his strength. Slumping back into the chair, he was unsurprised when Tuvok contacted him.

“I know,” said Chakotay. “You’ve detected a weapons lock.”

A pause. “That is correct, Commander.”

“Tuvok, please report to the ready room. I have some new information.”

The security officer acknowledged the order, and Chakotay rested his head on his hands. “And it’s not good,” he said to the empty room.

 

 

-----

 

 

Janeway gradually became aware of her surroundings. She assessed the situation as well as she could without revealing her consciousness, just in case she was being watched. She was lying on a lumpy surface. The air stank of unwashed bodies and the sharp, acrid scent of urine. A low murmur of many voices sounded all around her, and the resonance of the voices told her that she was in a place with reflective walls. None of the voices were near her. The fact that she could understand the words told her that her comm badge was still on, which was at least one thing in her favor. The rest didn’t sound good.

Holding cell. I’m in some sort of prison.

Slowly she cracked her eyes open, only to find that her right eye wouldn’t even open that far. She couldn’t hide the wince as she quickly shut both eyes again.

“You’ve got a nasty black eye, Captain.” Revi’s voice sounded very near. “And a lot of other injuries I wish I could help you with. But my arm’s been knocked out and they’re not allowing us any supplies.”

Janeway carefully opened her left eye. Revi was leaning over her, a very concerned expression on her bruised face. She had the aquiline nose, high cheekbones and wide-set eyes common to people of the Indian subcontinent. The Borg starburst on her right jaw, identical to Seven’s, did not detract from her dark beauty. Janeway smiled as well as she could.

“You shouldn’t hide a face like that under a hood.”

Revi’s eyebrows went up, and she laughed. “That wasn’t the first thing I expected you to say.”

“I try never to do what’s expected of me,” said Janeway. “Unless it’s to my advantage. Can I sit up?”

Revi frowned. “You can try if you want, but I wouldn’t recommend it. You’ve got at least three cracked ribs and one that I think might be broken, along with a concussion that knocked you out for seven point three hours. That’s in addition to the bruises that you’re probably feeling over your entire body. I wrapped your head and ribs with a sheet from the bunk, but it’s still going to hurt.”

“Great. Help me anyway.”

Revi sighed, but carefully wrapped an arm around Janeway’s torso and assisted her. The pain was incredible—every breath was an intense jab, and her head felt as if it were encircled by a slowly tightening metal band. She closed her eye and focused on slow, shallow breathing until she could push the agony into a corner of her mind.

“You’re lucky that broken rib didn’t puncture a lung. I get the feeling that nobody here would care.” Revi’s voice dripped with contempt. Then, in a more gentle tone: “Can you sit up by yourself?”

With her pain under control, Janeway opened her eye. “Yes, I think so.” She braced herself as Revi carefully withdrew her arm, then studied her cellmate more closely.

“You don’t look quite as bad as I feel,” she said.

“It’s hard to knock out a Borg with physical force. They used an electromagnetic charge on me. Short-circuited things I really don’t want to know about. I’m afraid you took the brunt of the physical attack.”

“Do you need medical attention?”

Revi smiled sadly. “Not the kind you can provide, Captain. But thank you. The worst part at the moment is that the EM charge knocked out my arm. If it were functioning you wouldn’t feel nearly so bad.”

Janeway examined the arm, a memory sparking in her aching head. “You were a medical/repair drone.”

Revi pulled her arm away. “How…?”

“We destroyed a Borg probe over a year ago. One of the items we salvaged was an arm like that. Our doctor was very excited about it. Laser scalpel, biomolecular scanner, microsuture capabilities in one attachment.”

“Not to mention tissue regenerators for bone, muscle and skin. Yes, very useful.” Revi’s voice was cold. “When it’s operating. I’m sorry it’s not doing you any good.”

Janeway looked around. They were alone in a filthy cell about four square meters in size. She and Revi were on one of two bunks, situated head to head on two of the walls. A third held a water faucet above a metal grate, and the fourth was open. A low hum announced the presence of a force field.

“I see they spare no expense for the housing of their guests,” said Janeway.

“We’re not guests, Captain. We’re enemies of the state, according to our very helpful guard. I’m scheduled to be disassembled and destroyed tomorrow. Your trial is in two days, and it seems to be a foregone conclusion that you’ll be found guilty.” Her expression was haunted. “I’m very sorry, Captain. It’s not right that you should be punished for my crime.”

“What was your crime, anyway?” asked Janeway. “What did you do that set two dozen police on us?”

“I’m Borg,” she replied simply.

“I was afraid of that.” Janeway sighed and gingerly rested her head against the wall. “They’re a little sensitive about that here, aren’t they?”

“A bit. If I’d known the penalty for having Borg implants was death, I would have crossed this lovely planet off my itinerary. And I’m sorry to say that your punishment is death as well, Captain.”

“Well, I’m not quite ready to die yet, Revi. And I’m not ready to let you die, either.” Janeway turned her head to find dark brown eyes pinned on her.

“I don’t understand you, Captain. Why did you defend me? You must have known you’d be hurt. And you didn’t even know whether I deserved to be taken in or not.”

It was hard for Janeway to think with her head pounding the way it was, and she could now add nausea to her list of happy little side effects. But talking kept her mind off the condition of her body, so she explained her thought process, pausing every few words for a painful, shallow breath.

“It was any number of reasons, all amounting to a split-second decision. I’d just witnessed a small boy beaten half to death earlier today, and it was all I could do not to step in then. But the boy was Dakmorian, so it wasn’t my fight. You, on the other hand, are human—and a former prisoner of war, I might add. And you didn’t kill those first officers who jumped you, though we both know you could have, very easily. So I knew you weren’t violent. It all amounted to an unprovoked attack, and as a Starfleet officer I’m obligated to assist Federation citizens in need. I’m especially obligated to assist fellow Starfleet officers.”

Revi looked stunned.

“How did you know?”

Janeway smiled weakly. “It’s only crunch time in Starfleet, Revi. Your slang gave you away. You also have a certain bearing about you that seems familiar. I’d guess you went through command school. And I’d also guess you were taken at Wolf 359.”

There was a long silence. At last Revi said, “I see why Chakotay thought so highly of you. His trust and loyalty were not misplaced.” She held her hand out. “Allow me to introduce myself properly, Captain. I’m Commander Revi Sandovhar, chief medical officer of the U.S.S. Rendez-vous.”

Janeway carefully shook the proffered hand, trying not to jar her ribs. “It’s an honor to meet you, Commander. But why the secrecy?”

Revi looked down. “I’ve…I did some things as a Borg that I don’t like to think about, Captain. It went against everything I ever learned in Starfleet, every principle I lived by, and an oath I took very seriously. I don’t claim my rank because I don’t deserve it.”

Janeway recognized this kind of pain. She’d seen it in Seven’s eyes, during her rare unguarded moments. And how much worse it must be for someone like Revi, who’d had a lifetime to internalize those principles instead of six short years.

“Commander, you were not responsible for your actions as a Borg. But you know that, don’t you? You just don’t believe it.”

“No,” said Revi quietly. “And if you had my memories, you wouldn’t believe it either. Please, Captain, call me Revi. I really don’t care to use my rank.”

Janeway reached out and rested a hand on Revi’s thigh. “I can call you Revi. Or I can call you Doctor, if you wish.”

“No!” Her head came up, and the look in her eyes made Janeway pull her hand back.

Revi paused, obviously getting control of her emotions. “Please…just call me Revi.”

Janeway studied the haunted face in front of her, and knew this conversation was over. “All right, Revi. Tell me what you know about this place, and let’s start working on a way out. Does your personal shielding still work?”

 

 

-----

 

 

B’Elanna was on the bridge, testing out the newly-repaired shields while Tuvok checked the weapons and Seven worked on the problem of the Dakmorian jamming systems. Voyager was back up to full strength, but it didn’t really matter with those weapons platforms targeting them. The Dakmorians had them by the throat and everyone on the bridge knew it. Their senior staff meeting had been very somber, with options being rejected almost as soon as they were suggested. Rescuing Captain Janeway was currently a last-resort option, and at the moment it seemed impossible, at least not without severe risk to the ship and the rescue team. Their greatest hope at this time was that Tuvok’s research would reveal a way to secure Janeway’s release within the Dakmorian legal system. But the clock was ticking, and tempers were getting frayed.

She spared a thought for Lynne, whom she’d left in her quarters half an hour ago. She’d taken a brief break to bring her friend up to speed and found her distraught beyond belief. B’Elanna hadn’t expected her to be taking the news well, but Lynne’s reaction was off the scale. After spending all the time she dared calming her friend down, B’Elanna had returned to the bridge in the hopes that something new had come up during her break. Surely there had to be a way out of this.

But the news on the bridge was unchanged. Tuvok would be going to the planet’s surface as soon as weapons tests were completed, looking for a legal loophole. Meanwhile, she and Seven would be working on finding ways through the transporter jamming field. It would be tough to beat; the Dakmorians’ technology was highly advanced. Even if they did find a way through the field, the warnings from the Dakmorians regarding unauthorized entry were quite clear:  enter without permission and be destroyed. She didn’t doubt they had the ability to back up the threat.

She was wrapping up her tests when the turbolift doors opened and Lynne Hamilton walked in. B’Elanna looked up in surprise; Lynne’s appearances on the bridge were rare, and never occurred unless Captain Janeway was on shift. Her friend glanced at her as she passed, striding straight to the ready room door and requesting entry. Chakotay let her in, and a hush settled over the bridge as the door closed behind her. There was a sense of expectation in the air.

It didn’t take long before they could hear raised voices behind the closed door. Lynne’s higher tones were more audible than Chakotay’s, but his could occasionally be heard as well. The voices rose and fell, and then there was silence.

A moment later the ready room doors slid open, and Chakotay stalked out with Lynne hot on his heels.

“I said this conversation is over!” he snapped. Lynne reached out, grabbed his arm and jerked him around.

“It is not over until you pull your head out of your ass and do something!” she shouted.

The entire bridge crew went still, watching the two combatants go toe to toe.

“I would love to do something!” Chakotay shouted back. “But my first responsibility is to this ship. I don’t have the luxury of thinking like a lover!”

“Bullshit! You don’t have to think like a lover to know that Kathryn Janeway is irreplaceable! She is invaluable to this ship and this crew, and you’re just throwing her away!”

“I AM NOT THROWING HER AWAY!” roared Chakotay. “I am doing everything I can to get her out!”

“The fuck you are! If you were doing everything you could, you’d pull Voyager out of range and send an extraction team to this planet right now! Where are they?”

“You think it’s that simple? Tell me, Lynne, who on this ship would you point to and send on a goddamn suicide mission?”

The words seemed to snap Lynne out of her rage, and she straightened up from her aggressive stance.

“I’ll go,” she said quietly.

“What?”

“I said, I’ll go. You don’t have to point to anyone. I’m volunteering.”

The bridge was dead silent.

“I appreciate the offer,” said Chakotay at last. “But I’m not sending a team to certain death. In the first place, we don’t have a way of getting them down. And even if we could, the risk is too high. Captain Janeway herself would not approve of such a high-risk effort.”

Lynne’s calm demeanor vanished as quickly as it had come.

“That is not true and you know it!” She stabbed a finger in Chakotay’s chest. “If it were you down there, she’d be leading the team herself. She told me once that there were only three rules to being a captain:  keep your shirt tucked in, go down with the ship, and never, ever abandon a member of your crew. How can you even consider leaving her there? Are you really that much of a chickenshit?”

“You are out of line!” shouted Chakotay. “I understand your concern, but get off this bridge now before I have you thrown off!”

“Why? You can’t handle an honest appraisal of your cowardice?”

Chakotay was clearly seething. He looked over at Tuvok, who nodded. Oblivious to the exchange, Lynne poked Chakotay in the chest again. “There’s a fine line between playing it safe because of responsibility, and playing it safe because you don’t have the balls to be a real leader. And I’m the only one who can tell you that little bit of truth because I’m not in your system. So show some goddamn fortitude, Chakotay, and DO WHAT NEEDS TO BE DONE! I’m already offering—send me! What the hell have you got to lose?”

The turbolift doors opened and two security personnel entered. B’Elanna felt sorry for them, especially Lieutenant Parker, who’d already witnessed Captain Janeway being beaten and was now about to be asked to force her lover off the bridge. Ensign Emily Watson didn’t look too happy, either.

“Escort Ms. Hamilton back to her quarters,” ordered Chakotay in a tight voice. Watson and Parker came down from the upper deck and approached Lynne from behind, with Parker in the lead.

Without taking her eyes from Chakotay’s, Lynne said, “Touch me, Parker, and I’ll take you out.”

Parker hesitated, and Chakotay gave him a hard look. “You do not take your orders from her, Lieutenant. Get her off my bridge!”

Parker put a hand on Lynne’s arm, and B’Elanna watched in shock as her friend whirled around, pushed her hip into him and threw him over her shoulder. He crashed against the captain’s chair and lay on the floor, dazed. Watson drew her phaser and fired at point blank range. The energy from the close shot spun Lynne around, and it was only Seven’s Borg reflexes that saved her from smashing face first into the upper deck rail. Leaning over the rail from her station, Seven caught her friend by the shoulders, then held her limp body in place while she vaulted over the railing. She crouched, gathering Lynne up in her arms, then straightened and looked at Chakotay.

“Did I give the order to use weapons?” the Commander shouted.

None of the stunned bridge crew responded. Finally, Watson stammered, “N…no sir! I felt it necessary to use force to subdue her, sir!”

Seven took the attention off the poor Ensign. “Shall I take her to her quarters, Commander?” she asked in a tone of voice that was several degrees cooler than normal.

Chakotay looked very tired. “No. Take her to the brig,” he said. “The charge is assaulting a Starfleet officer.”

“Very well,” said Seven. She paused, then added, “For the record, Commander, I will also volunteer for the extraction team—should you decide to authorize one.” She turned, cradling Lynne’s body, and made her way off the bridge.

Ouch, thought B’Elanna. Coming after Lynne’s devastating accusations, Seven’s short statement had just about emasculated Chakotay. She understood, to some extent, the hard spot he was in. But Lynne was right—Captain Janeway would never leave a crewmember behind. Chakotay couldn’t play this one safe.

 

 

 

 

---

Chapter 10

 

 

Janeway was feeling a distinct sense of déjà vu as she disassembled her comm badge. It had proven useless in contacting Voyager, and she suspected a dampening field. But she knew from experience that it was possible to manually calibrate an ex-Borg’s bioelectric field to match that of a force field. She’d done it once with Seven, while escaping a ship that was taking them back to Borg space. She hoped it worked as well the second time. But her vision was a bit blurry and her hands shook, making the operation take a good deal longer than it should have. Revi had offered to help, but Janeway knew exactly what she was looking for and reasoned that she could do it faster, regardless of her injuries.

“Tell me about your crew, Captain,” said Revi. “I know you have several ex-Maquis, an ex-Borg, a Talaxian and an Ocampan—quite a diverse group. And yet they seem to work together very well.”

“Yes, they do. Though we don’t have the Ocampan anymore; Kes left the ship three years ago. But to add to your diverse list, our chief medical officer is a hologram—” Janeway saw Revi’s wince and decided to move right past the Doctor— “and we have a human on board who was born over four hundred years ago.”

“Really!” Revi looked fascinated. “How on earth did that happen?”

As Janeway worked on her badge, she found herself telling Revi all about Lynne, in far greater detail then she’d intended. By the time she had the microfilament she was looking for, Revi knew more about her relationship with Lynne than most of the crew on Voyager.

Revi turned her head to give Janeway access to her starburst implant. “You must miss her very much,” she said.

Dear god, but she did. Janeway had to lower her hands for a moment while she composed herself.

“Captain? Are you all right?”

“Fine, Revi. I’m fine.” But she wasn’t. She didn’t know if it was the concussion, the constant pain, or the overall stress of her last few days, but suddenly her emotional control was slipping. Her relationship with Lynne seemed doomed to failure. She might be able to get herself and Revi out of here; she might even be able to help Revi find absolution in some way. But could she help herself? What was there left for her on Voyager if she and Lynne couldn’t work things out? And why, god, why didn’t Lynne want to take that next step?

“Captain.” Revi’s voice was soft and Janeway realized she’d blanked out for a moment. A gentle hand wiped away a tear she hadn’t even felt, and she turned her head away in embarrassment.

“I’m certainly not Betazoid,” said Revi. “But it’s pretty obvious that you’re in pain. Can I help in any way?”

“Not unless you have a degree in counseling,” said Janeway, still watching the opposite wall. “Lynne and I are at an impasse right now, and I’ve managed not to deal with it for two days so far. But I’ll have to face it sometime, and it’s just…hard.”

There was complete silence, and finally Janeway turned to see what Revi was thinking. Warm brown eyes looked at her with understanding.

“Do you think you can continue now?” Revi asked, gesturing toward the microfilament in Janeway’s hand.

Surprised, Janeway simply nodded. Revi turned her head again, and Janeway set to work. The task soothed her thoughts, and she was hardly aware when she began speaking again.

“I asked her to move in with me. It took me months to get to that point; to make that kind of commitment. And she turned me down. Said it sounded to her like I just wanted more convenience. Apparently she’d rather keep her own space than commit to me. I can’t understand it—she gave up everything for me, and then she doesn’t want to take that next step. I just don’t know where we’re supposed to go from here.”

There was a long silence, punctuated by tiny beeps as Janeway worked. “Your implant is different from Seven’s,” she said. “This is going to take longer than I thought.”

“It’s probably an older version,” said Revi. “I was severed from the Collective over eight years ago.”

Several minutes passed, the beeps from Revi’s implant a tiny counterpoint to the harsh sounds coming from the prison cells around them.

“Captain.”

“Hmm?”

“Why didn’t you ask her to marry you? I mean, it sounds like that’s the next logical step.”

Janeway nearly dropped the tool she was holding. She sat there, stunned, until Revi turned to face her.

“Is that what she’s waiting for?” Janeway’s voice was nearly a whisper.

“I don’t know. But you said yourself that she’s already given everything up for you. Your asking her to move in could be interpreted as asking her to give up the last thing she has—her own space. And you’re not offering a commitment in return. Not really.”

Janeway closed her eye and replayed her last conversation with Lynne. Seen from the viewpoint Revi suggested, it took on a whole different form.

“I thought I was giving her my heart. She said I already had. Now I know what she meant.” Janeway felt a surge of energy push back the fog that had been nibbling at the edges of her brain.

“Revi, we have to get out of here. I’ve got someone I need to talk to.”

“Then you’d better get back to work, Captain.” Revi smiled and turned her head once more.

 

 

-----

 

 

Tuvok looked through the force field to the figure slumped on the bunk. He’d known Lynne Hamilton for ten months now and had been training her for nearly six of them. In that time he’d learned to respect her. She worked hard and learned quickly; indeed, he had never had a student master the skills of Vulcan martial arts as readily as she was doing. In addition she was rational, logical and careful in her thinking. Except, apparently, when something threatened the woman she loved. Although he could not approve the behavior he’d witnessed on the bridge, he could certainly respect that kind of loyalty. Janeway could not have asked for a more passionate champion.

He deactivated the force field and stepped into the cell. Ms. Hamilton had to be aware of his presence, but she showed no signs of it.

“My security training, at some point, requires that each officer be stunned by a phaser in order to learn its effects on their physiology,” he said. “I believe we can now bypass that part of your training.”

Ms. Hamilton slowly raised her head and stared at the opposite wall.

“That must be a popular part of your curriculum,” she said. “I can’t say I’d ever want to experience it again.”

He sat on the bunk beside her and examined the wall as well.

“It might interest you to know that Ensign Watson stunned you because she was afraid to engage you in hand-to-hand combat. As your instructor, I can only be pleased with the skills you displayed on the bridge.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ms. Hamilton turn to look at him. “You’ve got to be kidding,” she said.

“I do not kid.”

She snorted and returned to her perusal of the wall.

“It may also interest you to know that after you were carried out, every single bridge officer volunteered for an extraction team. Seven of Nine was the first.”

She continued to watch the wall. “And what did Chakotay say to that?”

“He agreed to examine the option more carefully. A senior staff meeting was called, and a plan of action has been decided.”

He turned to face her, and saw a light of interest for the first time since he’d stepped in the cell.

“You and Commander Chakotay were both correct in your thinking, though somewhat less than logical in how you expressed yourselves. He cannot afford to risk the ship, but neither can he allow the Dakmorian legal system to carry out a predetermined trial with a death sentence for an act of self-defense. I have found no precedence for a legal defense, and do not believe that we can solve this problem within the Dakmorian system. Therefore, we will utilize a two-pronged strategy. Voyager will withdraw from Dakmor, citing our submission to their superior offensive systems. We hope that the Dakmorians are confident enough in their superiority to not suspect such a submission to be anything but genuine. But the Delta Flyer will stay behind, with Lieutenant Paris, the Doctor, and a two-person extraction team aboard.”

He noted that he now had Ms. Hamilton’s full attention.

“This team will beam to the surface outside the city limits, penetrate the city and prison defenses, extract Captain Janeway and, if possible, the ex-Borg, and beam back. Currently Seven of Nine and Lieutenant Torres are working on a way to defeat the transporter jamming system. They are close to a solution. When they find it, they can modify portable transporter pattern enhancers to allow a beam-out from any location.”

“Okay,” said Ms. Hamilton. “But when the Dakmorians detect the Delta Flyer after Voyager has supposedly given up and pulled out, aren’t they going to be a bit suspicious?”

Tuvok inclined his head. It had not been a small problem.

“Mr. Kim and I have located a small weakness in the shielding of the nearest orbital platform, and have modified the Delta Flyer’s shields to allow it to pass through. Before Voyager leaves, the Delta Flyer will approach the platform as if it were simply moving past, initiate transport, then immediately take shelter within the platform’s own shields. Their sensors should not detect the shuttle.”

“And when it’s time for it to leave again?”

“Then we will all trust in Lieutenant Paris’ skills.”

She nodded, her expression thoughtful. “There seems to be an awful lot of luck involved in this plan, Tuvok.”

There were certainly more uncontrollable factors than he preferred. “What many call luck is often simply good preparation, Ms. Hamilton. We will be as prepared as possible.”

Her next question was one he had expected; he was only surprised that it had taken her this long to ask.

“Who’s on the team?”

“I will lead it,” he said. “And although several members of the crew volunteered to accompany me, Commander Chakotay saw the logic in assigning someone who is not currently working any other assignment, has been training in infiltration, and is, in fact, in the process of working off a sentence of confinement to the brig.”

It was extraordinary, he thought, the way her face and body language came alive at that information.

“Thank you, Tuvok,” she said. “I know that was your doing. When do we leave?”

“As soon as Seven of Nine and Lieutenant Torres can find a way to transport. The Delta Flyer is prepped and ready, and all necessary gear is aboard, including more discreet clothing.”

She stood up, nearly bouncing on her feet. “Well then, let’s get changed.”

Tuvok stayed where he was. “Sit down, Ms. Hamilton.”

Slowly, she obeyed.

“You realize that you are charged with assaulting a Starfleet officer.”

She winced, but nodded.

“This is a serious charge, and there is little defense considering that the act was committed in front of several witnesses. Commander Chakotay has agreed that your participation in what may very well be an impossible mission will serve as your sentence. However, Captain Janeway will be informed of the charge upon her return to the ship, and she will have the option of reviewing and changing your sentence.”

Now she looked pained, but nodded again. “Tuvok, I’d happily spend the rest of our trip in here if it meant bringing her back. As long as she’s alive, she can be just as angry at me as she wants.”

He had expected no less.

“I will speak to Captain Janeway on your behalf. Before doing so, I will need to understand the motivation behind your behavior. Obviously you are worried about her safety, but the entire crew shares your concern and yet none of them felt compelled to call Chakotay a coward who lacked testicles. You are normally more…tactful.”

Her lips twitched, but she said nothing.

He wasn’t looking forward to this next part, because experience told him that an emotional minefield lay dead ahead. But this was his job…and he had come to consider Ms. Hamilton something of a friend.

“Is there anything else that I should be aware of?”

She studied her hands for some time. Tuvok waited. At last she sighed and said, “Kathryn and I didn’t part on the best of terms. We had a…misunderstanding, and didn’t have a chance to sort it out before she left.” She looked up. “Tuvok, if anything happens to her and we end on that note, I won’t be able to live with it. And I mean that quite literally.”

“I assume this ‘misunderstanding’ was of a personal nature,” said Tuvok.

She nodded. He waited again. It was his experience that most humans, given enough time and silence, would eventually verbalize their issues. Ms. Hamilton took longer than average, but she didn’t disappoint—and once the words started, they came tumbling out.

“She asked me to move in with her, Tuvok. We were having an absolutely wonderful day together, and then she asked me to move in with her, and I just froze. All I could think of was that I didn’t want to; I didn’t want anything to change, and I made a mess out of everything, and she left angry and hurt. I left her two messages the next day that she didn’t return, and then she went to Dakmor. God, Tuvok, if I could have her in front of me right now I’d say yes in a heartbeat. I don’t know why I was so scared.”

“But you have just explained to me the cause of your fear,” he said. Why did he keep finding himself in these situations? Why did humans have such a difficult time seeing what was right in front of them?

“When did I do that?”

“When you said you did not want anything to change. You have experienced more change in your life than almost anyone I have ever known or heard of. It is quite logical that you should be reluctant to initiate yet another alteration of your life at this time. I believe that if you were to express your fear to the Captain in those terms, she would understand and accept it.”

Ms. Hamilton stared at him, wide-eyed.

Tuvok felt he had accomplished his objective in this conversation, and saw no need to continue.

“Are you ready to leave, Ms. Hamilton?”

 

 

-----

 

 

Two hours later, Tuvok and Lynne Hamilton were on the planet’s surface, three kilometers out from the city’s boundary and in rocky, desert terrain. So far, everything had proceeded according to plan. Voyager was gone, out of reach of the planet’s weapons installations, and the Delta Flyer was currently hiding inside the shields of the closest platform. Just before entering the shield, Lieutenant Paris had executed a quick transport, releasing the jamming field immediately afterwards. With luck, the Dakmorians would see only a flicker in their field, attributable to nothing but a minor technical hiccup. But if the extraction team were discovered, they were entirely on their own. There was no room for error.

Now the difficult part began. Both Tuvok and Ms. Hamilton carried large packs containing the modified transporter pattern enhancers, a full medical kit, explosives, and a hand-held communicator with boosted transmitter levels and anti-jamming capabilities. In addition, each carried a tricorder, hand phaser, and phaser rifle. Ms. Hamilton’s intensive training had resulted in a high skill level with weapons, infiltration equipment and martial arts, but she had never taken part in a live mission before. Tuvok had no doubts about her abilities, but he considered her emotional strength where the captain was concerned to be something of an unknown factor. He would watch her closely.

They crouched behind a ridge, scanning the city’s perimeter. Tuvok’s energy-sensing field glasses showed the protective force field around the city, and he had to admire the redundant defensive systems. From a security standpoint, the Dakmorian’s systems were nearly ideal. From his standpoint, they were very inconvenient.

Ms. Hamilton silently showed him her tricorder, which had pinpointed the life signs at a 30 degree bearing from their position. He nodded, entered the coordinates in his glasses, and scanned the area. Ah. A large, square building, with what appeared to be weapons turrets at each corner and centered on each wall. And—he checked the energy settings—yes, another force field. Lowering the glasses, he considered their options. Getting through the transporter jamming field had taken the combined skills and intelligence of two of the most accomplished engineers he had ever known. He had no illusions about his own ability to penetrate the next two fields without the support of Voyager’s crew or systems. They had to find another way.

“Ms. Hamilton,” he said quietly. “Check the city perimeter force field for ports. The Dakmorians must transit through it somewhere. We don’t have the time or resources to shut any part of it down, so we will need to find a port and a way through it.”

She nodded and raised her glasses. Tuvok resumed his scan of the prison building, looking for a port in its field. After a quarter of an hour, he saw a hovercraft approach the building, pause, then pass through the field and settle to the ground. He marked the coordinates where the hovercraft had passed through and turned to Ms. Hamilton, who was still scanning. Without taking the glasses from her eyes, she said, “There are two ports that I can see on this side. One seems to be regular traffic, and the other appears to be limited entry—all of the craft that have gone through look exactly the same.”

“Give me the coordinates of the limited entry port.”

He watched long enough to see a hovercraft enter the port, and noted that it was identical to the one he’d seen in front of the prison. Lowering his glasses, he said, “You have found our front door, Ms. Hamilton. That is a military entrance.”

As they packed up their glasses and began to move, she said, “Not to question you, Tuvok, but exactly how are we going to walk through a military entrance?”

“We are not going to walk through. We are going to drive through in a military hovercraft.”

“Okaaay. And how will we acquire this hovercraft?”

“We are going to set a trap for it. And you, Ms. Hamilton, will be our bait.”

 

 

-----

 

 

Tuvok crouched behind a boulder and double-checked the charge and setting on his phaser rifle. He’d chosen his ambush carefully. The location was blocked from the port’s view by a steep dip in the approach path, and his position was blocked from the road by a curving, high bank of boulders. Ms. Hamilton stood at the edge of the approach path, looking considerably worse for wear than she had half an hour ago. They’d torn her clothes and rubbed dirt on her face and body, in order to give credence to the part she was about to play.

He heard the hum of an approaching hovercraft and gave a short whistle. Ms. Hamilton immediately stepped out into the approach path and began running straight down its center, and a moment later a hovercraft swept past Tuvok’s hiding place. He held his breath. They had seen no foot traffic on this road, so Ms. Hamilton’s presence was guaranteed to attract the attention of the hovercraft crew. Logically, they would stop to investigate the situation, but there was a chance that the Dakmorians were paranoid enough to shoot before stopping. He’d given Ms. Hamilton the odds, and she had chosen to proceed. He approved her courage; it was not easy to run with one’s back to possible weapons fire.

She stopped, turned, and began waving her arms frantically. The hovercraft slowed and settled to the ground next to her, kicking up a small cloud of dust as it came to a rest. Tuvok brought the rifle to his shoulder.

The door opened and a uniformed Dakmorian stepped out. Ms. Hamilton rushed up to him, gesticulating frantically and pointing up the road. He couldn’t hear her words, but knew she was doing her best to convince the officer that she’d been attacked on the approach path. He waited, hoping that additional personnel would disembark and make their mission simpler. Unfortunately, he knew, missions were rarely as simple as one could wish and he was unsurprised when the officer took Ms. Hamilton by the arm and began to force her toward the craft. They had anticipated this possibility, and Tuvok took careful aim on the officer while Ms. Hamilton dragged her feet, putting up a token resistance. Just as they reached the entrance to the craft, she broke the officer’s hold and darted away. Tuvok dropped the man with a phaser bolt and was up and running almost before the Dakmorian had hit the ground, chasing Ms. Hamilton who had already jumped into the craft. By the time he reached the entrance, she was standing in it, smiling at him.

“Hi, Tuvok. Need a ride?”

He observed her relaxed stance. “If I did not know better, Ms. Hamilton, I would say you were enjoying this.”

She sobered. “Actually, I’m just enjoying still breathing at this point.” She ducked back into the craft and Tuvok followed her in, observing two stunned Dakmorians at the controls. He looked around the craft, noting the holding area in the back. Excellent.

“Drag these two over there,” he ordered, then went outside to pick up the fallen officer. Ms. Hamilton had moved one of the bodies into the holding area when he returned. He dropped the officer in the passenger area and helped her carry the second man to the back. Tuvok chose the man whose size most closely matched his own and stripped off his uniform, while Ms. Hamilton stripped the man Tuvok had carried in. He wore the fanciest uniform, almost certainly denoting a higher rank, and his uniform fit Ms. Hamilton well. Tuvok removed all weaponry from the three men, while Ms. Hamilton bound their hands and feet with the ties they’d brought.

“Who would have thought zip ties would make it to the twenty-fourth century,” she muttered as she worked.

“Pardon?”

“Never mind.”

She finished just as Tuvok located the force field controls for the holding area. He raised the field, securing two of the men, and then settled into the pilot’s seat. After a brief inspection of the flight controls, he lifted off, rotated the craft in place, and swung it around behind the boulders. Once they were out of sight of the approach path he settled the craft again, disengaged the engines, and made his way back to Ms. Hamilton, who still stood behind the officer. Pulling a hypospray out of his pack, he injected the man.

It didn’t take long for the man to come around, groaning.

“I can sympathize,” said Ms. Hamilton. “Feels like a train ran over you, doesn’t it?”

The man looked up at her. Despite being stripped and bound hand and foot, he showed no fear. Instead, he fairly simmered with outrage. “Who are you? How dare you attack an officer of the Protectorate?”

Tuvok moved into his line of sight. “We have no time to answer your questions. You will, however, answer mine. What is the code to pass through the field?”

The man did not answer, simply staring at Tuvok in anger.

“I will only tell you this once,” said Tuvok calmly. “You will tell me the code, or I will extract it from you. I assure you that you would prefer the former.”

“You will get nothing from me,” spat the officer.

“That is incorrect,” said Tuvok. “Ms. Hamilton, hold his head. Do not allow him to move it. It will be difficult in a few moments.”

He reached out, placing his fingers on the nerve points of the man’s skull. Blocking everything else from his mind, he concentrated on the energy beneath his fingers. Different physiology. These are not the right points. With his eyes closed, he moved his fingers around the man’s head until the energy lined up properly. Yes.

“My mind to your mind,” he said, beginning the ancient ritual. “My thoughts to your thoughts…”

His mind sank into that of the Dakmorian officer, moving through foreign pathways and in some cases, forcibly shoving through narrow or blocked spaces. Dimly, he could hear the man screaming, but it was very distant, in the physical world. He was wholly immersed in the world of thought now, searching for information. The pathways of this man’s mind were just different enough from any known species to cause him some difficulty, but he pressed on. The stakes were too high to fail.

Eventually he found the information he sought, and carefully backed out. Withdrawal from a mind meld was even more critical than entry—any error could result in damage to his own mind. This withdrawal had to be slower than usual, due to the man’s foreign pathways, but the damage Tuvok had caused on entry helped mark his way out. Eventually he felt himself settling back into the familiar confines of his own mind, and he opened his eyes.

Ms. Hamilton was still holding the now limp officer’s head. She was staring at the man with a look of total horror, her face white under the grime.

“Tuvok,” she whispered.

“It was necessary,” he said.

“He was in agony.”

“Yes. A Vulcan mind meld, done against the will, is very painful for a Vulcan. For another species, whose mental pathways are not compatible, it can be…devastating. He will not recover his mental faculties.”

She raised haunted eyes to his.

“Ms. Hamilton,” said Tuvok firmly. “Do not allow your admirable sense of ethics to prevent you from completing this mission. We have a specific objective, and we must do whatever is necessary to achieve that objective. Do you understand?”

She swallowed and nodded, looking very unhappy.

“Remember that you volunteered for this mission,” he said. “It is too late to change your mind because you dislike what is required of you.” Then, more kindly, he added, “Ms. Hamilton, what is Captain Janeway’s life worth to you?”

The answer was immediate. “Everything.”

“Then you must be prepared to do anything to save her.”

“I know,” she said. “I know what you’re saying, Tuvok. And I’m sorry you’re having to deal with this. I’m just…” She stopped and shook her head. “I’m okay,” she said in an entirely different voice. “Let’s get on with it.”

He nodded, and together they dragged the man back to the holding cell. While Ms. Hamilton raised the field, Tuvok retook the pilot’s seat. She joined him in the copilot seat a moment later, tucking her hair under the officer’s cap. Soon they were back on the approach path and streaking for the port.

Once Tuvok had the craft on its course, he looked over at Ms. Hamilton. She was resting her head against the back of the seat and staring straight ahead.

“I normally do not teach guerilla tactics until later in the security course,” he said. “We may be able to bypass some aspects of that part of your training as well.”

She smiled, and some of the tension went out of her body. “Thanks. And I’ll never tell anyone that you actually have a sense of humor.”

“I do not. I was perfectly serious.”

After a pause, she asked, “Tuvok? Would you have done the mind meld if he’d told you the code?”

“Yes. The likelihood of him giving false information was too high. However, if he had told me anything, if would have made it easier for me to locate the information. We cannot afford to make any mistakes, Ms. Hamilton. There will be no second chances.”

Their arrival at the port ended any further conversation. Ms. Hamilton held her tricorder up, reading the energy levels of the field while Tuvok came to a halt just in front of it. He entered the code, and the control panel in front of him lit briefly with an amber light.

“Go,” she said.

He accelerated once again, taking care not to move too quickly.

“God, Tuvok, this might actually work,” she said in a tone of amazement.

“I am surprised to learn that you had doubts,” Tuvok answered dryly. “However, I must caution you against becoming overconfident. The mission is not a success until it is completed.”

“Climb one pitch at a time, right. I understand.”

He did not recognize the reference, but had no time to ask for clarification as he became preoccupied by steering the craft through the city streets to the next set of coordinates. Their entry through the prison force field was as easy as the perimeter entry, and he settled the craft in the landing area. They rose immediately and shouldered their packs.

“Leave your rifle here,” said Tuvok. “We are attempting to be inconspicuous, and these packs are too noticeable already.”

“All right. So now what? We walk through the front door?”

“Not this time,” said Tuvok. “I did not see any dark-skinned Dakmorians during our time in the city, nor did I see any female officers.”

“I’ve got my hair up,” she protested.

He raised an eyebrow. “That is not your only female characteristic. We will look for a side door and attempt an entry where there are fewer observers. Remember, walk as if you know exactly where you are going and will tolerate no interference. Even if people wonder about us, attitude is often all that is required to make them pause. I believe those bars on your uniform will be useful.”

She nodded. Tuvok activated the entry control and they stepped out, closing and locking the hovercraft entry. Keeping their eyes straight ahead, they strode past the main entrance and around the corner of the building. There were several side doors to choose from, one of which had a recessed entry. For all their technology, the Dakmorians obviously were not used to dealing with guerilla tactics and had not designed their buildings or systems with that in mind. Tuvok appreciated their lack of experience.

With Ms. Hamilton blocking the view from behind and checking her tricorder for Captain Janeway’s life sign, Tuvok pulled out his own tricorder and quickly broke the locking code. It would have been most convenient if the officer’s knowledge had extended to this building’s individual codes, but he was prepared to do it the hard way. They entered the door and closed it behind them.

“She’s two levels up and 130 meters this way,” said Ms. Hamilton, pointing. Tuvok nodded; the captain was on the other side of the building. They began walking, looking straight ahead but scanning in their peripheral vision for a way up to the next level. Several Dakmorian police were using the hallway as well, and Tuvok could see that they were attracting some attention. But no one approached or called out.

After traversing 20 meters, Tuvok felt a tap on his arm and looked to see Ms. Hamilton indicating a door on their left. A stairwell was visible through it. The door was not locked, and in moments they emerged onto the correct floor.

There were more police here, but still they moved through unaccosted. Soon they arrived at the entrance to the holding cells:  a narrow, open doorway protected by another force field.

Tuvok stepped to the control panel and began the process of determining the lock code. It was taking too long. He began to fear that this field was beyond the tricorder’s ability to break, and was just considering other options when a siren went off. Immediately he heard shouts and the sound of boots running toward them.

“Our time has expired,” he said. Stepping back, he pulled out his phaser and destroyed the control panel in a shower of sparks. The field dropped.

“Quickly!”

They ran through the doorway and narrowly missed being taken out by the guard on the other side. Green bolts of energy filled the air; Lynne dropped to the floor while Tuvok dove and rolled, coming up in a crouch and stunning the guard. Lynne’s phaser went off to his right, and he looked to see another guard dropping to the floor. He quickly scanned the room, finding no other targets. Opposite the doorway they’d entered was a sealed door, its window showing a long hall lined by holding cells on both sides. Another door on his right led to yet another long hall—which was filled with uniformed Dakmorians, all armed and all running toward them. A glance out the destroyed force field showed a similar view.

“Over here!” He ducked behind a desk, the only cover in the room, and was joined a moment later by Ms. Hamilton.

“You take the right hall, I’ll take the front.” She looked tense and scared, but nodded. A hail of energy fire lanced into the room then, and all his attention was taken up by efforts to stay alive. He fired whenever he could, noting with some satisfaction that the bodies were piling up in his hallway. He could hear Ms. Hamilton’s phaser firing regularly beside him; a good sign. But the firefight went on for far too long, and Tuvok was growing concerned. The longer they were pinned down, the less their chances were of getting to the Captain. One of them would have to keep moving while the other stayed there, holding off the Dakmorians. Of the two of them, he was more experienced in a firefight.

“Ms. Hamilton!” he shouted over the high whine of energy bolts. “You must continue! Go out the door behind us; it leads to the cell block. I will stay and give you as much time as I can.”

“I can’t leave you, Tuvok!” she shouted back.

“You will do as I order or you will condemn the Captain to certain death. Go now! We are running out of time.”

With a cry of frustration, Ms. Hamilton dropped her phaser in front of Tuvok, crawled to the door, and hit the control panel. When the door slid open, Tuvok sent a hail of phaser fire down the opposite hall, covering her as she jumped up and took off running down the back hall. As soon as the door closed behind her, Tuvok shot the control panel, destroying the electronics and temporarily sealing the door. Certainly there was a manual override somewhere, but this would delay any initial attempts to pass through. He picked up her phaser and began firing down both halls simultaneously. He hadn’t expected her to give him the phaser—it increased the amount of time he could hold off the Dakmorians, but gave her one less tool for the task ahead of her. Nevertheless, she was his best student. If the odds were in their favor, she would get the job done.

Now, he thought, would be a good time for Captain Janeway’s famous luck to come into play.

 

 

 

 

---

Chapter 11

 

 

It had taken much longer than Janeway expected to complete the alterations to Revi’s implant. Her condition made it difficult to concentrate or hold her hands steady, and they were interrupted at regular intervals by the passing of a guard. Whenever they heard boots approaching, Revi would get up and lie on the other bunk while Janeway sat in place, eyes closed and head resting against the wall. Often the guard would stop in front of their cell for several minutes before moving on. Revi said they were stopping to stare at her. Janeway heard the resignation in her voice, as well as the unspoken thought: once a Borg, always a Borg. She knew that, to some extent, her own crew had been guilty of the same assumption about Seven. But they’d learned to accept her over time, and Seven had changed as well. She felt certain that she could show Revi that not everyone would see her as Borg first and human second.

But first, there was the little matter of their jailbreak.

While working on Revi’s implant, they’d been able to time the passing of the guard. It turned out to be very regular, and now they were simply waiting for the next one to come by. Then they’d wait two more minutes, giving him time to get out of hearing range, before they made their attempt.

The guard’s boots sounded in the distance, a measured pace for which Janeway had developed an intense dislike. It spoke of arrogance and overconfidence, and she was looking forward to showing these Dakmorians that not all of their prisoners were totally under control.

The steps drew closer and she leaned her head back, closing her good eye. Normally it would be difficult for her to sit still at a time like this, but now her body welcomed the chance to relax. She’d said nothing to Revi, but she was very concerned about her mobility. After finishing the work on Revi’s implant, she had taken a few practice steps around their tiny cell—and each one had been a breath-stealing agony. Somehow she would have to summon up the will to push through that pain. There was simply no other option.

Step, step, step. Pause. The guard was in front of their cell, watching the Borg on display. She heard nothing but a faint rustle of fabric as he shifted his stance, and then he moved off again. Opening her eye, she looked over at Revi, who silently got off her bunk, sat next to Janeway and wrapped a supporting arm around her shoulders.

“Come on. Let’s get you ready to go,” she whispered.

With Revi’s help, Janeway got up and moved to the entry. They stood in front of the field until Revi nodded her head, her internal chronometer keeping perfect time. She stepped through the field and turned with a big smile.

“Nice work, Captain.” A moment later, she’d disabled the force field and Janeway joined her in the hallway. They turned in the opposite direction from where their guard had gone, and had taken all of five steps when the siren sounded.

“Damn!” Janeway glanced around for somewhere, anywhere to hide besides their cell. All she could see was a long hallway with cells on all sides; maybe one of them was empty. She moved painfully forward. Running footsteps could soon be heard—but they were moving away from them, not toward them.

“I don’t think that’s because of us, Captain,” said Revi. “I don’t suppose you have any friends in high places?”

Janeway grinned. “Actually, I do. And they love to cause trouble.”

“Then let’s take advantage of it.”

They moved as fast as Janeway could tolerate. Other prisoners stared at them as they passed, but none said a word, apparently too frightened by the sight of Revi. Janeway was glad for the small favor, since a prisoner uproar was the last thing she needed right now.

They arrived at a T-intersection and Janeway paused.

“This way,” said Revi as she turned left.

“How do you know?”

“I was awake when they brought us through here.”

They made their way down the hall, passing several more intersections. Janeway shook her head at the seemingly endless rows of cells. This was a vast holding facility, and it appeared to be full. No healthy society would incarcerate this large a percentage of its citizens.

Revi suddenly stopped in front of a large control panel. “Hold on, Captain. I may be able to figure out what’s going on.”

She extended her human arm and Janeway watched in fascinated horror as two assimilation tubules leapt out of a wrist implant that could easily pass as a rather interesting bracelet. As the tubules penetrated the panel, Revi’s eyes closed and she went very still. Janeway sagged against the wall, grateful for the rest. She concentrated on catching her breath; a difficult task when each intake of air felt like something sharp was poking into her lungs. And that’s probably exactly what’s happening, she thought wryly.

Suddenly two sirens blared simultaneously, from different parts of the building. Janeway looked up at Revi, who opened her eyes and pulled her arm back, ending her connection.

“Security logs report two intruders at the entrance to the cell block,” she said. “They’re pinned down by sixty officers, with more on the way. So I created a little distraction for them. Let’s see if we can go help.”

Bracing herself, Janeway pushed off from the wall and took a step forward. Running footsteps brought her head up—these were coming straight toward them. A Dakmorian officer came around the corner at the end of the hall, saw them, and increased his speed. A second man came out of an intersection between them and the officer. He looked at the running officer, then down the hall toward Janeway and Revi. Shouting a warning, he raised his weapon toward them.

Revi immediately stepped in front of Janeway. She heard someone scream, “No!” and felt an energy bolt sizzle past her. By the sound of it she knew it wasn’t a stun bolt. Revi sprinted away from her, revealing the two men rolling on the floor and grappling for the weapon. One of them was hampered by a large pack and was clearly taking the brunt of their exchanged blows. His opponent connected with his jaw, snapping his head back and knocking his cap off. A long braid of dark hair spilled out, and Janeway’s heart stopped as she recognized her lover.

“Lynne!” she shouted. “Revi, help her!”

Never in her life had she felt so helpless as she did now, weaponless and hardly able to walk, much less aid her partner. Lynne was fighting for her life and she could do absolutely nothing about it except pray that Revi could get there in time.

Prayer wasn’t enough. She heard the weapon fire, and both bodies stopped moving.

Oh my god, Lynne…

 

 

-----

 

 

The power cells on Tuvok’s phasers were getting low. At the current rate of firing, he estimated that he could hold off the Dakmorians for another three to four minutes. If Ms. Hamilton encountered no delays or problems while locating Captain Janeway, it might be enough. He could no longer spare any concern for his captain and crewmate, however. His entire life had come down to the next three minutes. He felt no sorrow at his imminent death—his life had been full of intriguing experiences and great opportunities for learning, and his death would be for a good purpose. His only regret was that he would never have the chance to see T’Pel again. He hoped his wife might find a new mate; she was too young to spend the rest of her life alone.

The next three minutes went by quickly, and he set aside one phaser while it still had enough energy for a final kill shot. He would not be taken alive. With the remaining phaser in hand, he readied himself to pick out his last targets.

Two alarm sirens went off, and his first thought was that Ms. Hamilton had tripped them. But then he realized that the sirens came from different parts of the building—something else was going on. The blizzard of energy bolts that had been flying past him suddenly diminished greatly in number, and he looked out from his cover. Half of his opponents were running back down the halls, apparently in response to the new alarms. Tuvok took immediate advantage of the reduced fire, shrugging out of his pack and pulling out two explosive charges. They were powerful ones, strong enough to destroy both corridors and everyone in them. The blast would kill him as well, but his own death was a moot point now.

It took only seconds to arm the charges. He fired several shots down one hall, threw a charge, and did the same with the other. Then he dove under the desk and covered his head.

The explosions collapsed the room around him, burying him in debris. His last thought was one of satisfaction:  he had bought the captain and Ms. Hamilton the time they needed.

 

 

-----

 

 

Janeway moved as fast as she could, but it was still a frustrating crawl. All she could do was watch as Revi sprinted the last few meters to the still bodies, picked up the Dakmorian, and threw him clear across the hallway. His body hit the wall with a thump and slid to the floor, leaving a dark smear behind. Revi dropped to her knees beside Lynne’s body and began to check her for injuries, and Janeway nearly collapsed in relief when she saw Lynne raise her head. Revi stood and extended her human hand, pulling Lynne up, and the next second they all nearly lost their balance as two explosions rocked the building. More alarm sirens began to shriek, and Janeway suspected that whoever was here with Lynne had just caused a whole lot of trouble.

Lynne looked down the hall toward Janeway, took a few wobbling steps, and broke into a run, with Revi right behind her. She stopped in front of Janeway, her face a mask of pain and grief.

“Kathryn!” Her voice was nearly a sob. “Oh god, what did they do to you? I’m afraid to touch you.”

“I’m all right,” said Janeway. “It’s nothing the Doctor can’t fix. Lynne, are you all right?” Lynne’s uniform jacket was soaked with blood.

Lynne followed her gaze. “It’s not mine.”

Janeway’s legs nearly gave out on her, the relief was so great. “Who’s here with you? What’s happening?”

Lynne began frantically twisting out of the pack she carried. “It’s just Tuvok and me; I left him back at the entrance. I’m getting you out of here right now.” She dropped the pack to the floor and pulled out a transporter pattern enhancer.

“Here,” she said, shoving it toward Revi and pointing. “Set this up over there.” She handed a second enhancer to Janeway, who took it automatically and then winced at the pain the movement caused. Lynne straightened up with the third enhancer in hand and caught Janeway’s wince. Her face darkened with rage.

“Those fucking bastards. I’d be happy to kill every last one of them.” She took the enhancer out of Janeway’s hand and ran to set it up, leaving the captain to look after her partner in shock. Lynne wasn’t kidding; her eyes had been murderous.

With both of her pattern enhancers set up and activated, Lynne ran to Revi and activated hers as well. She pushed Revi inside the enhancers’ perimeter and dashed back to her pack, pulling out a hand-held communicator.

“Hamilton to Delta Flyer.”

There was a long pause, a little static, and then Tom’s voice came through.

“Lynne, good to hear from you. Do you have them?”

“Yes,” said Lynne, looking into Janeway’s eyes. “The enhancers are on. Lock onto them and beam two out.”

It was only then that Janeway realized Lynne was standing outside the perimeter.

“Lynne! What are you doing?”

“I can’t leave Tuvok behind, Kathryn. I love you. Don’t ever forget that.”

Revi stepped out of the perimeter as well, and Janeway started to move toward them—but the familiar tingling of a transporter stopped her motion, and then she was standing in the warm and comforting confines of the Delta Flyer.

 

 

-----

 

 

The next twenty minutes were the longest of Janeway’s life. The Doctor immediately descended on her, despite her efforts to wave him off—though she certainly appreciated the analgesic hypospray. She wanted to do something, dammit, and he was getting in the way. Both Tom and the Doctor gently pointed out that neither they nor she could do anything at all, and her top priority now was to let the Doctor tend to her injuries while they waited for news from Lynne. She gave in with little grace, and submitted to the Doctor’s care feeling as if her heart were constantly one beat away from cardiac arrest. She’d never been this scared. Her mind whirled with images of Lynne’s death, and her fear combined with her frustration to create a mood so oppressively black that even the Doctor kept his mouth shut. She was wound tighter than a plasma coil, and when the call finally came through, she exploded off her chair, nearly knocking the Doctor over and never feeling a thing from the ribs that weren’t yet fully healed.

“Hamilton to Delta Flyer.” Lynne’s voice sounded breathless. “Three to beam up, and now would be good.”

Janeway was activating the transporter almost before Lynne finished her sentence. She turned to watch the beam resolve itself into a sight that she would never forget: her lover, grimy, bloody and grim-faced, wearing one pack and carrying a second; and Revi, who held a dusty, unconscious Tuvok in her arms.

“Tom, best possible speed back to Voyager,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am.” Tom was already on it.

“Doctor, I think you have bigger concerns than me.”

The Doctor nodded and moved toward the back of the craft, where Revi was settling Tuvok on the floor.

“Hold on!” Tom yelled. Janeway saw phaser fire streak by the Flyer’s windows just as the floor dropped out from under them. She grabbed onto the console and checked the readouts as Tom threw the Flyer into a dizzying series of banks, dives and dodges. She was beginning to feel queasy when he finally hit the warp drive and the shuttle settled into a smooth ride once more.

“Sorry about that,” Tom said. “Just a little farewell gesture from our hosts. We should rendezvous with Voyager in less than half an hour.”

“Thank you, Tom. Good job.” Janeway rose from her seat and looked at Lynne, who let go of the wall support she’d been gripping and stared back at her with an expression of utter exhaustion. For several seconds neither of them moved; then Lynne’s entire body seemed to deflate. She dropped the pack she was holding, shrugged out of the other one, and walked slowly toward Janeway, never breaking their eye contact. Janeway suddenly felt every one of her injuries again as she painfully closed the distance between them. They stopped a hairsbreadth apart, neither knowing quite where to touch the other. Lynne’s face was dirty and bruised, she had a lump on her jaw, and it looked like she would soon be sporting a black eye to match Janeway’s own.

Lynne tentatively raised a hand to tuck a bit of hair behind Janeway’s ear, and her eyes filled with tears.

“Kathryn, I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

“I’m sorry too,” Janeway murmured. “We have a lot to talk about, but not here.”

Lynne swallowed and nodded, dropping her hand and turning away. Janeway caught her hand as it fell and tugged her back around. The green eyes that met her own were starting to glaze over with shock, and Janeway knew they had more to deal with than just their relationship.

“I love you too,” Janeway whispered. “And I am so proud of you. You did what you had to do.”

Lynne nodded again, then sagged into the nearest chair and put her face in her hands. Janeway touched her back briefly before going to the rear of the shuttle.

“Doctor, report.”

The Doctor set aside his medical tricorder and pulled out the bone knitter. “Concussion, a few severe lacerations and bruising, broken humerus and a bruised kidney. He’ll be a bit sore, but there’s nothing life threatening. I’m knitting this arm and then it’s your turn, Captain.” His tone left no room for discussion, not that Janeway was in the mood to fight anymore. With her team back on board, she wanted nothing more than to end this pain.

She turned to Revi and held out her hand, which was taken in a warm clasp. Janeway brought her left hand up and enclosed Revi’s, then looked pointedly at Revi’s own left arm. Revi hesitated, then awkwardly raised her cybernetic attachment and rested it against Janeway’s hand. Their eyes met for a long moment.

“Thank you,” said Janeway at last. “It means the world to me that you stayed behind to help Lynne and Tuvok. You didn’t even know them. I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

“You’re wrong, Captain,” said Revi. “You owe me nothing; I was paying off my own debt to you.” She lowered her voice. “And I do know Lynne. I’ve seen her through your eyes.” She looked toward the front of the shuttle, and Janeway followed her gaze to the slumped form of her lover.

“Don’t let that one go, Captain,” Revi murmured.

Janeway watched Lynne, who hadn’t moved since sitting down. “I have no intention of it.”

 

 

 

 

---

Chapter 12

 

 

Seven of Nine stood beside Commander Chakotay and watched as the Delta Flyer settled down in the shuttle bay. Captain Janeway had contacted her and requested that she meet the shuttle. She knew that meant she was really being requested to meet Revi Sandovhar, the former Borg who had caused this situation. Although she herself had benefited from Captain Janeway’s propensity to “pick up strays,” as she’d heard crewmembers put it, she couldn’t help but feel a little anger toward this latest one. She’d watched her best friend phasered on the bridge, Janeway had been severely beaten, and Janeway, Lynne, and Tuvok had all nearly been terminated. All because of this individual. Well, she would be professional for Captain Janeway’s sake, but that was all.

The shuttle doors opened and Janeway emerged, with Lynne right behind her. Seven felt a shock at viewing their condition—knowing of their injuries had apparently not prepared her for seeing them. But they were here and in no medical danger, according to the report from the Doctor. Behind Lynne came the ex-Borg. Terran, 175 centimeters, approximately 82 kilograms with her remaining Borg hardware. Dark hair, eyes and complexion. And looking straight at her. Seven stared her down, and the ex-Borg just raised an eyebrow and smiled. That startled Seven; she was unaccustomed to seeing an expression like that on an individual with Borg implants. Tom Paris came out last; the Doctor and Tuvok had already transported to sickbay.

Janeway led the group up to them.

“Welcome back aboard, Captain,” said Chakotay. There was a tone of relief in his voice, and Seven suspected he was just as happy to hand over control of the ship as he was to see Janeway.

“Thank you, Chakotay. It’s good to be back. Chakotay, Seven, I’d like you to meet Revi Sandovhar, formerly of the Cooperative in the Nekrit Expanse. Revi, this is Commander Chakotay, my first officer, and Seven of Nine, my astrometrics officer.”

Chakotay offered his hand stiffly. Revi shook it and said, “Commander. On behalf of the Cooperative, I would like to offer my apology for our actions. It was a difficult time for us, and I have no excuse for the decision we made. But I would like you to know that your actions saved thousands of lives.”

Chakotay nodded shortly, but said nothing. Revi turned and offered her hand to Seven.

As they shook, Seven noted that Revi’s left arm was a cybernetic medical/repair attachment—she’d been one of the drones assigned to assimilation of new Borg and repair of existing drones. She shuddered internally. As a Borg, Seven had been responsible for the assimilation of thousands, but she’d never directly operated on an individual. Revi had been personally, directly involved. She looked up into Revi’s eyes, and saw the knowledge there.

: Yes, I have done far worse than you, Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct to Unimatrix Zero One. :

Seven went very still. She’d heard the voice in her head just as clearly as if she were still attached to the Collective. How was that possible? Her external transceiver had been destroyed when Janeway severed her, and her neural transceiver could only be accessed by a very strong transmission. The type of transmission that a single drone could not accomplish.

: As a repair drone I have a high-powered transmitter in my cortical implant. It allowed me to reach drones who for any reason were not receiving intact transmissions from the Collective. Obviously you never required services from drones like me, or you would be aware of our capabilities. Seven, Captain Janeway is talking to you. :

She actually heard the smile in Revi’s last thought, even as she saw it on her face. Turning to the Captain, she accessed her eidetic memory and replayed Janeway’s question.

“Yes, Captain, I would be happy to show Revi around the ship. But does she not require medical attention?”

“Not that your Doctor can provide, Seven.” Revi spoke aloud. “I have some system malfunctions caused by an electromagnetic shock administered by the Dakmorians. A repair drone would be handy—” Seven saw a ghost of a wink—“but barring that, my own nanoprobes will eventually resolve the problems. I just need to fuel them, and I can do that through eating.”

“Would a Borg regeneration unit help?” asked Janeway.

Revi seemed momentarily stunned. “That…would be very helpful indeed,” she said, after a noticeable pause. “Do you mean to say that you have one?”

“We have four,” said Seven. “If you will come this way, I will show you.”

Revi hesitantly nodded, and after being excused by Janeway, the two of them exited the shuttle bay. To any observer it would have appeared that they moved through the ship in total silence, but Seven and Revi were having an intense conversation.

: I have been looking forward to meeting you, Seven. :

: I admit I have not felt the same. I experienced anger toward you for indirectly endangering three of the most important people in my life. :

: You must know that if I could have prevented it, I would have. Captain Janeway jumped into a fight and allied herself with me, knowing that she risked injury. She is a remarkable woman.

: Yes, she is. :

: Your feelings for her are very strong. :

: She took me from the Collective and forced me to live. I hated her for imposing her will on me. Now I would gladly give my life for her. She gave me everything. She is everything to me. :

Seven felt surprise through their link. This was something new—although their verbal communication was achingly familiar, never in her time with the Collective had she received emotions along with thoughts.

: Seven, this is not just respect or gratitude that I see in your mind. :

: I was unaware that you could share emotions as well as thought. I felt your surprise. :

: Yes, it’s an unexpected aspect to being an ex-repair drone. The implanted transceiver allows direct mind-to-mind communication, but the Borg never expected that communication to involve more than thoughts or transmissions. There is so much more to the mind than they really understood. So much they dismissed as having no value. :

: Such as emotions? :

: Yes. :

: Those “dismissed” aspects of the mind are the most difficult things I have experienced since being severed from the Collective. I do not understand much of what I feel. :

There was a long pause, and Seven sensed that her companion was carefully considering what to say next. When Revi’s voice once again sounded in her mind, it was hesitant.

: I could help you with that, Seven. If you wanted. But I would not want to impose myself on you in any way. :

Seven gave her offer serious consideration. She knew next to nothing about Revi, but the connection created by their joined minds was so comforting to her, so warm and familiar, that she felt almost as if they were…family.

: I appreciate your offer, Revi. I may accept it at a later time, but I would prefer to learn more about you first. :

: I understand. You don’t trust me. :

: I do not have sufficient data upon which to base a conclusion. :

Revi laughed out loud, startling Seven. “You still talk like a Borg.”

“I was assimilated at the age of six. To me, talking like a human is still the equivalent of speaking a foreign language. I am improving, however.”

“I have no doubt. Seven, you’re a remarkable individual. I hope you’ll allow me to get to know you better.”

They entered Cargo Bay Two and Seven could feel Revi’s astonishment at the sight.

: You weren’t kidding. This looks like a slice of a Borg cube. :

: Kidding is something I’m still learning to do. Lynne says I’m getting better at it. :

Revi grinned at her. “Oh, I get the feeling that you have a wicked sense of humor. Which one of these is yours?”

Seven indicated her alcove. Revi stepped up on the dais and inspected it carefully, then slowly moved to the adjoining one. Seven could feel a hesitation on her part, but could not understand its cause. Then the hesitation vanished and Revi turned around.

“Looks like home to me,” she said. “I would love to continue our conversation, Seven, but I haven’t regenerated in a very long time. Would you mind?”

“Certainly not. It is the purpose for which I brought you here.”

“Thank you.” Revi stepped into the alcove, but stopped just short of the connection.

: You never answered me. Will you allow me to get to know you better? :

: Is it so important to you? :  Seven was a little startled to find herself the object of the longing she felt from Revi.

: Seven, I’ve been alone for a long time. I think you understand exactly how alone. To make contact with a mind like yours is like…it’s like having a drink of fresh water handed to me when I’ve been dying of thirst. :

Seven looked at her, and saw the sincerity she sensed reflected on Revi’s face.

: I do understand. And the water is welcome to me as well. :

Revi’s face lit up, and the emotion that came down the link to Seven was something she’d never felt before. Relief, gratitude, happy expectation—it was…remarkable.

: Thank you. :

Revi stepped back, and Seven felt their connection abruptly end. The sudden silence in her mind was cold and empty. Over the prior three years, she’d made great progress in adjusting to that silence—or so she’d thought. It had only taken a few minutes of mind-to-mind communication for her to remember how devastating the loneliness of a single mind really was.

She stared at the unmoving figure in the alcove. She’d been prepared to dislike Revi, but their shared thoughts had quickly altered her perception. Now she found herself looking forward very much to the end of Revi’s regeneration cycle, when she could once again feel the familiar comfort of another voice in her mind. Except this voice was so different from what she’d known before. She had tasted the best of both worlds: the Borg’s intimate mental connection combined with human individuality and emotions. She knew, with complete certainty, that she could never accept a silent mind after this.

 

 

 

book 4 | Present Tension main page