The communication logs turn up mostly useless, until Seven notices an encrypted signature attached to the captains combadge. She traces it to the communications array and discovers, with some dread, that the planet below is not as uninhabited as previously thought. Someone from below has been listening. She takes her findings to the captain.
Janeway's blood runs cold when she learns this. Someone, or something, has been spying on her crew, and she can only believe that one of them has been taken captive by these creatures.
"Tuvok, gather a security team," she orders. Tom stands to join them, but she is behind him in an instant, gently pressing him back into his seat. "I understand," she says in a lower voice so that her words are only for him, "that you're worried about him, but we may need your skills to bring us out of here once we have Harry back."
"But Captai—"
"No buts, Mr. Paris." Her hand squeezes this shoulder. "At least not until we know more."
Tom sets his jaw with resignation. He hasn't relaxed at all since Neelix contacted the ship four hours ago. His back is aching with the ramrod posture he's maintained, but his nerves hold him taut. He needs to do something. Harry's just a kid, he thinks. I need to be there for him.
Tuvok is already out the door and marching towards the transporter room.
The planet is quiet and peaceful when the security team beams down. They traverse Harry's last known coordinates, searching for any sign of alien life. They scan dozens of birds and small mammals, but nothing that appears threatening or capable of the deception Voyager is investigating. It has been another three hours of fruitless searching when suddenly Ayala is waving Tuvok over to him.
The Vulcan hurries to his location and finds that Ayala has discovered a cave entrance. The tricorder in Tuvok's hand goes wild.
"Captain," he says as he activates his combadge.
"Go ahead Tuvok."
"We have discovered a series of underground caves on the planet. The rock seems to be made of an unknown compound that prevents our scanners from going much deeper than the entrance. I surmise that is why we have been unable to detect them from the ship."
"Acknowledged," she replies. "Station a lookout near an entrance, try to get an idea of who we'll be dealing with inside."
"Understood."
The images that Tuvok's team bring back to the ship are foreign to everyone but Seven. She merely quirks an eyebrow and the identifies the unusual creatures as "species 6487, the Gravatti." Janeway zeroes in on her.
"The Borg encountered the Gravatti several hundred years ago, but they were unworthy of assimilation. They displayed rudimentary telepathic powers and were barely able to leave their own planet's orbit. This, however, is not their homeworld. It would seem that they have progressed rapidly since our last encounter." Her voice is dry but not entirely unimpressed. "It would take significant improvement in their communications skills to be able to monitor our ship from the planet's surface."
Chakotay has been listening with deepening concern.
"Tell us more about these 'rudimentary telepathic powers'," he demands. His voice, as always, is soft, but something dark weighs on it.
"The Gravatti have a limited ability of suggestion," she explains. "They were able to make another remember certain memories, or instill a particular feeling. The Borg deemed the threat of a Gravatti reminding a drone of their individuality too great to bother with a miniscule advancement in weaponry."
"Weaponry?" Janeway asks with alarm.
"They have a particular… knack, as you would say, for nerve damage. Their methods were crude and unreliable. The Borg would have perfected them."
The captain is silent for a moment as she considers this new information. Tom is white at his post, a nervous sweat slicking his palms.
"Senior staff to my ready room."
The plan is simple. Commander Chakotay will infiltrate the underground hive, find Harry, and beam back to the ship with him. The not so simple part is making him into a convincing Gravatti, and fast. It has already been 10 hours since Harry disappeared. It's actually little Naomi Wildman, wandering through sickbay, who has the brilliant idea to use the EMH's mobile emitter to project the body of a Gravatti around Chakotay, rather than having him undergo time-consuming cosmetic surgery. Janeway is so proud, she would adopt the little girl right then and there.
Armed with a face that he prefers not to think about and a Gravattian name, Cholbute, Chakotay beams down the surface.