Tom sat on the edge of his bed, forearm wrapped in a bloody towel, with the body of the Allorian stretched out at his feet where it had fallen. Chakotay arrived a few minutes after the assault in answer to Tom's call.

The commander had come alone, no security had been alerted...yet. He studied the body intently. Tom kept his gaze forward, not wanting to look at the alien any more than he had to.

Chakotay straightened and walked away as if to pace, head bent in deep thought. When he reached the far side of the room, he turned. "I suspected…" he began. He shook his head. "But this leaves no doubt."

Tom looked up; he was still dazed, "I know."

The commander's dark eyes were intense, burning with pent up rage. "The away team never made it back." His voice was clipped and agitated. "Damn it!" he shook his head again in frustration. Curling his hands tightly, he looked angry enough to punch both fists through a wall. "They're still down there, Tom, and we have an Allorian in command of this ship."

"What are we going to do?"

"Round up the away team and throw them in the brig, to start with." Chakotay began to pace again. "But we can't draw out the captain's suspicions. I'll speak with Tuvok in person, and get the security team together. You get down to sickbay and get that arm taken care of."

Tom stood in protest. "I'm going with you."

"Not like that," Chakotay said motioning to the injured arm. "This will be a covert operation, that arm would draw attention." His attitude softened a bit. "Tom, you're in no condition to fight right now, and it may come to that."

Looking down, Tom saw that blood had penetrated the towel almost to the point of saturation. Chakotay was right; he had to stay out of it for now.

"Let me take care of the captain and the away team," the commander continued, "When we have them secured, we'll decide our next move."

Tom desperately wanted to be in on the action, but acquiesced with a sullen, "Aye, Sir."

As Chakotay left, Tom watched the doors slide closed then his eyes were drawn downward to the alien corpse. Hatred welled up inside him such as he had never felt before, but he had work to do. Walking over to the bathroom, he discarded the blood-soaked towel, and picked up a fresh one. The knife had sliced clean through the flesh, leaving a wide gash that bled freely from both sides of the forearm. Blood dripped in bright red spatters on the floor. Wrapping the new towel tightly around the wound, he went for the door, but turned, went back to the corpse, and knelt down. The creature's bulbous purple eyes were open and glazing over. He remembered seeing kindness in eyes like these when he'd first seen them, but now he was repulsed by bitter betrayal. Grabbing the knife at the hilt, he yanked it free. Air bubbled from the hole it left behind. It was a pitiful gurgling sound, but Tom felt no compassion for this creature. It had taken the image of his wife, and turned it into a vile thing, and that was unforgivable.

He stood up and went for the door again, this time crossing the threshold and locking the door behind him.


"State the nature—"

Tom held out his arm as he came into sickbay, not offering to discuss the details.

"Sit down, Lieutenant," said the doctor, refraining from any form of small talk. It seemed as if he understood that serious action was taking place on Voyager. So he silently unwrapped the arm and set to work.

Tom turned the knife in his other hand, transfixed by the odd mix of blue and red blood on its razor-sharp blade. He wondered if he would use it again, and hoped not. The thought of stabbing another being that so resembled his crewmates repulsed him.

The doctor looked up from his ministrations with a raised brow. "Should I prepare for a triage?" he said, as he ran the anabolic protoplaser over the wound. "By the way your toying with that thing, I'm wondering if there are going to be casualties."

"I don't know," Tom said, feeling the heat from the protoplaser as it sealed the wound. Tension eased somewhat along with the pain, helping him to think more clearly. "I would recommend it, to be on the safe side."

"I see." The doctor turned the arm over and began to close up the other side. "The captain didn't come in for an examination after the mission, nor any of the other members of the away team. I find that quite disturbing."

"Why didn't you mention it before?"

"The captain's orders," replied the doctor, closely examining his work. "But now, I sense that the orders are null and void."

"How do you know?"

"With my suspicions piqued, I thought it would be best to monitor ship-wide communications for a while."

Tom looked at the doctor with interest. "What have you found out?"

"The captain has been secured, and three others." The doctor took a step back. "We're finished here."

Tom flexed his hand and stretched the arm. A faint streak of blood still tinged the skin, but it was otherwise healed. He hopped off the biobed.

"This would be more efficient than that primitive hunting knife," said the doctor, offering him a handheld phaser. At Tom's inquisitive glance the doctor replied, "I like to be prepared for any circumstance."

Tom set the knife on the biobed and took the offered phaser. "Thanks." He went for the door leading to the corridor, but paused and glanced back.

Instead of preparing for a triage as he'd said he would, the doctor had retrieved another phaser and was adjusting its setting. He looked up when he realized Tom was watching him. "To be on the safe side," he said and attached it to a clasp on his belt.

Stepping out into the corridor, Tom saw that it was empty, like a ghost ship. One couldn't tell by looking, that Voyager was in great peril. No warnings had been issued. It was quiet, just as Chakotay wanted it to be, and since he'd already captured the captain, it should stay quiet until the task was complete.

As he went down the hall, he heard faint sounds of shouting and phaser fire. He ran toward the end of the corridor toward the sounds when another crewman rounded the corner firing on an unseen foe.

The red hair and security uniform told Tom in an instant that this man was Ensign Renning, or more clearly, his imposter. Renning turned and started in a dead run straight toward him. Surprise lit Renning's freckled face and he raised his phaser, leveling it at Tom.

Tom raised his own phaser in defense, but before he could fire, Renning fell in an instant, struck down by a stunning shot. Tom turned and saw the doctor sprinting up behind him, his phaser drawn.

"I thought you might need assistance."

Tom knelt beside Renning and rolled him over. This Allorian didn't go through a metamorphosis like the one in his quarters did. Maybe these creatures had to be dead before a change could take place.

Tuvok and several other security men rushed around the corner. The Vulcan tapped his combadge. "Commander, we have secured the last of the away team."