Chapter 3

Part 1

Though her Captain's sobs had quietened to a whimper, Seven-of-Nine remained extremely concerned. Almost half an hour had passed since the older woman had finished speaking, telling Seven of the horrors she had experienced whilst a prisoner of the Cardassians, yet Janeway's distress had not subsided and indeed had increased to the point where the small, hunched form was struggling to breathe. Seven wanted to move closer to her lover, to comfort her with soothing words and a soft embrace, but she remained where she was, not knowing whether her touch would make things worse. As Janeway choked once more, retching and crying out with pain, both real and remembered, Seven quickly crossed to the other side of the room and tapped her comm badge.

"Seven-of-Nine to the Doctor," she said quietly, eyes fixed on Janeway.

"What is it, Seven? Are you alright?" The Doctor's tone was worried, as it was rare that he was disturbed during the night unless Voyager was under attack.

"I am well, Doctor, however I am concerned for Captain Janeway. Please come to the Captain's quarters immediately."

"On my way."

Knowing that her actions were highly unorthodox, the young woman moved closer to the chair where Janeway sat, curled in on herself as though blocking out a physical adversary. Seconds passed, each one causing Seven's worry to increase, until the door chimed its welcome notes. The blonde opened the door and in strode Voyager's Emergency Medical Hologram, carrying a case and wearing a business-like expression.

"Captain, it's the Doctor. Can you hear me?"

Janeway did not respond, though she was clearly conscious, her body shuddering uncontrollably. Holding her steady, with one hand grasping Janeway's shoulder, the Doctor scanned her quickly with a medical tricorder. Concern registered immediately on his face. "Seven," he barked, and the Borg was at his elbow instantly. "She's having convulsions - brought on, I suspect, by intense emotional trauma. Her body can't cope with it. Pick her up," ordered the hologram, and Seven obeyed, gently lifting the Captain's form in her arms as she had done on several occasions. Still the small size and weight surprised her, and Seven wrapped her arms around Janeway more tightly. She could feel the older woman's limbs trembling under her grasp.

"I'll transfer my program to sick bay and meet you there. Computer, emergency medical transport. Two to transport to sick bay, authorisation EMH kappa four sigma."

A familiar blue light enveloped Seven and Janeway as the transporter dematerialised their bodies, keeping their patterns intact before reforming them from their atoms in the middle of Voyager's sick bay.

Part 2

A steady trickle of patients had kept the Doctor busy, the usual minor injuries he encountered day after day, and he dispatched each one swiftly with a minimum of fuss. His main concern was Captain Janeway, who still slept on a biobed in one corner of sick bay, separated from view by an opaque blue force field. The medical hologram had treated the Captain for shock and sedated her, but that should have worn off hours ago. Concluding that Janeway must have been in need of rest, he left her alone and kept an eye on her discreetly through the use of a cortical monitor.

The doors parted with a gentle swishing sound, and Voyager's First Officer stalked through them, heading straight for the Captain's bed. The Doctor managed to intercept the large man en route.

"Good morning, Commander. The Captain is still sleeping, but I assure you that she had sustained no permanent damage. She'll be fine when she awakens, physically at least, however I think that counselling would be a good idea to work through some of the emotional issues."

"Thank you, Doctor. I don't know if you are aware of this, but Captain Janeway has spoken to me about her problems concerning her experience with the Cardassians. You don't have to beat around the bush." Chakotay's expression softened as he remembered speaking to his Captain, telling her about how he found out what had been done to her. She had appeared strong and resilient, but it was obviously part of the Captain-like façade that she maintained day after day. Only when she had truly opened up to Seven-of-Nine had she faced her demons. This time, the demons had won, but Chakotay knew that the Captain possessed a formidable character that was not easily cowed.

Facing the Commander, the hologram met his eyes in a silent understanding. "I'll contact you the moment she awakes, Commander."

"I'll be waiting," replied Chakotay, casting a last look towards the smoky blue screen hiding Janeway from view. "Where's Seven now?"

"I have no idea. After she and the Captain transported here, she left without a word. I haven't seen or heard from her since. Why?"

Ignoring the Doctor's question, Chakotay addressed the computer briskly. "Computer, locate Seven-of-Nine."

Seven-of-Nine is on Holodeck Two.

"That's odd," remarked the Doctor. "I assumed she was on duty, or regenerating. Why isn't she here with the Captain, if she's not doing anything important?"

"I don't know, Doctor, and quite frankly it doesn't matter. What matters is that Captain Janeway is healthy and sound of mind. Maybe Seven not being here isn't a bad thing; it might give the Captain time to think things through."

"I tend to agree," the hologram admitted reluctantly, though he didn't usually approve of restricting visits from friends of patients unless it was absolutely necessary. "But that's up to the Captain. If she wants to see Seven, I'm not going to stop it. Of course, Seven would have to actually be here, which she seems to be avoiding at the moment…"

"I'm going to have a word with Seven," Chakotay answered decisively, nodding his thanks. "Let me know when there's any change."

He left sick bay and made for the nearest turbolift, wondering exactly what the enigmatic ex-Borg was up to.

Part 3

Lunch was an unusually subdued affair for the three officers sharing a table in a quiet corner of the mess hall. There was none of the customary banter and gossip, even from B'Elanna Torres who was notoriously difficult to subdue. Swirling a spoon round a bowl of greenish-grey soup, the half-Klingon let out a small sigh. It was barely audible, but her partner had been watching with some concern.

"Everything alright, B'Elanna?" Paris asked gently. Torres gave a slight nod, then raised her head to meet the helmsman's eyes.

"I'm not sure," she admitted, surprising Paris and Harry Kim, who had also said very little. "I know the Captain will be fine, eventually. It's actually Seven that I'm more worried about."

This seemed a curious statement given that it was Janeway, not Seven, who was in sick bay, prompting Kim to speak. "How do you mean?" he asked, leaning forward interestedly. It had been years since the young, green Operations Officer had unwisely mentioned that he found the ex-Borg attractive, but was still teased about it regularly. Kim felt his cheeks reddening at the memory.

"I don't know that I should…mention this," began Torres slowly, clearly intending to anyway, "but Seven came to see me this morning in Engineering-"

"You know," interrupted Harry, suddenly pushing back his chair and smiling with a tinge of embarrassment, "on second thoughts, I think this is none of my business. I'll catch you later."

Voyager's most junior bridge officer left the table, and Paris and Torres were alone. It occurred to Tom that none of this was any of their businesses, yet he was curious to hear what his partner had to say. "Go on," he prodded, resting his elbows on the table in front of him.

"Well," continued the Klingon, "I can't remember exactly, but Seven said something about wanting to brush up her combat skills-"

"What?" exclaimed Paris incredulously. "She's got more 'combat skills' in her little finger than everyone else on board put together!"

Torres scowled impatiently. Being interrupted was not something she was accustomed to, and it was beginning to annoy her. "Are you going to listen, or just butt in every five seconds?"

"Sorry."

"Okay. So she was asking if I knew any good holodeck programs that she could use, so I told her about the usual ones, you know, Starfleet training programs, Klingon warrior drills, martial arts, boxing and the rest. She didn't seem interested in any of those, asked me if there were any Maquis simulations that would 'test ones skills in more realistic combat situations'." Torres stopped and took a long gulp from her cup, setting it down carefully. It was clear that Torres was reluctant to go on, and Paris asked another question, probing gently.

"So did you give her any programs?"

"Yes," B'Elanna replied. "I didn't think until afterwards. Tom, I know that I haven't told you exactly what all this is about, but she's obviously got it in for the Cardassians in a big way."

"Haven't we all?" said Paris, earning a glare from the temperamental engineer.

"You didn't see her, Tom. She looked, I don't know, crazy or something. Thank God we're out here and not in the Alpha quadrant, or I think we'd have to lock Seven up to stop her murdering every Cardassian she could find. And I don't mean like the Maquis – it's personal for her." Torres's voice was becoming steadily more agitated, and Paris hushed her softly, placing a restraining hand on his partner's arm.

"Maybe Seven just needs to get it out of her system. It's only a holodeck program; she isn't going to harm anyone."

"Or," replied B'Elanna pointedly, "maybe she's just practising for the real thing, for when we do make it back. Maybe we should tell someone - Chakotay, or Tuvok."

Paris knew that the Klingon was upset, for normally she was the last person to suggest taking matters to her superiors. "Relax, B'Elanna. We're hardly going to get back to Earth next week. Let's just…see how things go. I'm sure that when the Captain is back to normal she'll sort things out-"

"And what if she doesn't get 'back to normal'!" hissed Torres, eyes flashing green with latent anger. She didn't mean to direct her frustrations at Tom, but he took it good-naturedly nevertheless.

"Then we'll deal with that too," he replied with a grin. "Anyway, Chakotay will probably be going to talk to Seven today; if she's running a Cardassian bloodbath in the holodeck I think even he might notice something's wrong."

Torres returned Tom's grin with a smile of her own, briefly squeezing the helmsman's hand before pulling away, which for Torres, who disliked public shows of affection, was a significant gesture. "You're right. Now, I'd better get back to engineering, and don't you have to fly this ship or something?"

Laughing now, the couple made their way out of the mess hall and parted in the corridor outside.

"See you later," called Torres over her shoulder.

"Your turn to cook!" answered Paris, throwing up one hand in a jaunty wave.

Part 4

Chakotay's sensitive nose detected the pungent odour of fresh Cardassian blood the moment he entered Holodeck 2. It was a scent he would never forget and it brought back vivid flashes of memory; vicious battles, endless nights hiding out in the most unforgiving environments, evading capture by roving bands of enemy soldiers. So many times in his Maquis career he had witnessed death, on many occasions by his own hand.

Heavily forested terrain surrounded him, decaying plant matter foul and nauseating, even more so than the trails of blood that weaved across the flora. As he followed a path, Chakotay unconsciously lowered his stance, creeping silently through the underbrush, ears straining to catch the slightest sounds. Ahead, a flash of grey caught his eye, followed by another, then another. The large man gasped as suddenly, like stars becoming visible in the sky at dusk, bodies appeared on the ground all around him.

Limbs, severed and bloody, lay scattered around the clearing. Torsos stood out against the grass, mutilated almost beyond recognition, dripping with gore and decapitated, the heads yards away from the stumps from which they had been hacked. The stench of death permeated the air, making it so heavy that Chakotay had difficulty in drawing breath. He had seen the aftermath of bloody fights and fierce battles, but this was different. This was carnage; mechanical, deliberate mass murder with breathtaking violence. The First Officer found that he was shivering as he surveyed the scene, taking in the range of methods used in butchering the holographic Cardassians.

Beyond the clearing, through a stand of tall, silver-coloured trees, a movement caught Chakotay's eye. He froze, peering intently, then heard a sound that was definitely not from a Cardassian soldier. Straightening, he walked towards the noise, a quiet sobbing that became clearer as he approached. Seven-of-Nine sat on a fallen tree trunk, her head bowed so that only her hunched body was visible. She was crying, her slender shoulders quivering. The bear-like man stepped up to the young woman, pausing for a moment whilst he took in her torn, dirty uniform, covered in ugly, dark red stains from the neck down to the grey boots that the ex-Borg wore.

Seven lifted her head, revealing a face caked in blood, with pale tracks where the tears had streaked down her cheeks. She was no longer sobbing, but she still shook as Chakotay took her by the shoulders and pulled her to her feet. He walked her back to the holodeck doors, ending the program with a soft command. The First Officer knew that they would have to speak about what had happened, but there would be time for that later.