Maquis Commander, Torri

"Captain, long range sensors are picking up a wide spread distress call, audio only." Harry said from his console.

"Let's hear it."

The transmission started out with pops and static until the breathless voice started to call:

"This is…" a deep breath was audible in the shaken female voice. "…Commander Torri Camron…" another breath. "…of the Maquis war ship…" Breath. " … Crusher…" She coughed deeply. "I am…alone. My life…support…is going…offline. I don't have…much time." Her voice thickened with a sob. "The Delta…Quadrant…is…kill…ing…me." There was a dull sound and the transmission ended.

"Tom, change our course." Janeway said quickly as she took her seat.

"She sounds a bit young to be a Maquis Commander." Chakotay interjected. "Captain, I believe caution is needed."

"Harry, Play that last part again."

"Captain?"

"Do it."

"The Delta…Quadrant…is…kill…ing…me." The dull sound followed again.

"She fell." The captain was speaking to only herself. She asked for the last half of the sentence to be played with the sound up.

"…is…kill…ing…me." The dull sound came as a thud, followed by a low cry.

"She fell from her chair." Tom sped their pace. By the sound of the transmission, they had very little time.

It wasn't long before they came upon a small space craft, one humanoid life sign; life-support was completely offline.

"That doesn't look like a Maquis war ship." Chakotay muttered.

"Beam her directly to sickbay." They reset course to the Alpha Quadrant.

"Good morning." The doctor said as Commander Torri opened her eyes.

Her voice was weak as she replied, "You're a hologram."

"Yes, Yes I am." He seamed disappointed by her flat tone.

"What ship is this?" She sat up, her voice growing stronger.

"The federation, starship, Voyager." He took her vitals with his medical tri-quarter.

"Federation? Starfleet." She practically growled. "How did Starfleet capture me?"

"We didn't capture you; we saved you from the small space craft you were in. You sent out a distress call." The Doctor told her. "We are just trying to get home."

"I have heard of Voyager. Many species know who you are. She stood as the door opened. Chakotay stepped in.

"How is or Commander, Doctor?"

"Just like yourself and B-Elanna when you first came to us." The doctor commented. "She also has the personality of a certain ex-drone."

Chakotay cocked an eyebrow. "Maybe we should introduce the commander to Seven of Nine."

"Seven of Nine? Sounds like a Borg designation." The paced a little. "I can't stand the Borg. Too many voices when one drone speaks."

"She is severed from the collective. She is an individual." Chakotay watched as Torri sat down. "When did you come in contact with the Borg?"

"Twenty-three years ago. They assimilated eight Maquis. I've been trying to get them back ever since." The door opened and Torri was on her feet as Seven stepped into sickbay. "Seven of Nine?"

"Affirmative." She turned to the doctor. "I believe my ocular implant is malfunctioning."

"Let's have a look." Chakotay saw Torri's discomfort, apprehension, and fear as Seven passed her for the Doctor to inspect the implant.

"Would you like to walk with me?" he suggested. "I'm headed for the Mess Hall." The tiniest of smiles crossed her lips as she followed him out the door. "What brought you to the Delta Quadrant?"

"War." She told him flatly. "We heard of a force that killed many. They all looked the same, they fought the same, their thoughts were the same." Chakotay noticed the way she marched. She was defiantly a soldier. "Little did we know, we were going to war with an unbeatable force." She paused and her march hesitated. "War with the Borg Collective Hive Mind."

"You said Twenty- three years ago. But you barely look twenty." He looked at her, she watched ahead of herself. "How is that?"

"It's odd, isn't it. I look just out of my teen years, when, in all actuality, I'm forty-three years old." She stopped with Chakotay. "I tried to understand how my body stays young…but who am I to study and tear apart the fountain of youth?" she started to walk again. Chakotay took a second to compose himself before catching up.

R&R