Ensign Renning lay in a prone position on the corridor floor, but he was no longer inert. Tom, still kneeling, noticed that the fallen man's eyes twitched behind closed lids, and he heard a slight moan.

"He's coming to," Tom said in alarm. The stunning shot had been a mild one, just strong enough to incapacitate him for a few moments.

The doctor knelt and ran a tricorder scan over the body. "Vital signs are increasing. The stun should lose its effects momentarily."

Tuvok made a small gesture with his hand and a security guard came forward with a pair of binders. The doctor got up and stepped back, as Tom helped turn the prisoner over so the binders could be maneuvered onto his wrists.

By the time the ensign's hands were secured behind his back, his eyes had fluttered open. "Wh-what's going on?" he muttered, the effects of the stun slurring his speech.

"He is sufficiently conscious," stated Tuvok, "Pick him up and escort him to the brig."

Renning turned his head from one side to the other, panic and confusion effectively wiping away the residual symptoms from the phaser stun. "Wait! I didn't do anything!"

With the intention of handing Renning off to Security as soon as he was on his feet, Tom hauled him up from one side with the help of the security officer on the other. The ensign stood at least five centimeters above Tom in height and was stockier in build, but this imposter weighed at least twice as much as he looked. Tom's arms trembled with the strain of lifting him.

"Ow! Let go of me!" demanded Renning as he stumbled to his feet, his face flushed with fury. He twisted in an attempt to jerk free of his captors.

Almost losing his grip, Tom grasped Renning's arm with both hands, trying to steady him. He glanced at the prisoner's face, and at that moment, a tidal wave of disjointed images hit Tom all at once, violent and confusing; he wanted to break away but could not. He saw Captain Janeway, clearly, as if she were right beside him. "Lucky we found you…" she said, speaking directly to him, eyes on his. "Dilithium…exactly what we need…"

"Captain," Tom's voice was but a whisper, as if in a dream.

She didn't respond, just continued walking through the mist. Shots rang out. A scream pierced the air and Tom watched helplessly as two crewmen fell. Janeway reflexively ducked and drew her weapon.

Renning jerked again, snapping Tom back to the present. Incensed by a sudden realization, Tom shoved him against the wall. "You know what happened to them!" he exclaimed, thrusting an arm up and pinning the ensign to the wall by his throat. "Tell me what happened to them!" He could feel his own pulse quickening along with an intense desire to rip the man's heart out. Hands seized his shoulders, his arms, but he could barely feel them as they tried to break the death grip he now had on the prisoner. "Look at me!"

Renning's flushed face tinged purple, but he complied, the whites of his eyes bright and feverish, "Human!" he said, in a low stifled growl that sounded like a curse, "What's the matter? Didn't you see them die?"

Tom drew back to strike him, but his arm fell slack and his grip on the prisoner dissolved. As he fell, a voice, calm and authoritative, broke through the rampaging chaos in his mind. "Rest," it said.


"What else do you remember?"

The lighting in the conference room was subdued compared to the lights in sickbay, and for that Tom was grateful. He glanced up at Chakotay who gazed at him expectantly. Hadn't he told the commander everything? He tried to piece together in his own mind what had happened, why he had snapped in the confrontation with the prisoner. The memories were his, but it was as if someone else had made them.

"I've told you everything." He tried to rub the bleariness from his eyes and tiredness from his face, felt the rough stubble of a few days growth of beard along his jaw. God, he was tired. He'd been unconscious in sickbay for at least two hours thanks to Tuvok's nerve pinch and sheer exhaustion. Even if he counted that as rest, he still fell way short of the standard eight hours.

"According to the doctor's report," Chakotay said after a moment, "what you saw when you were with Renning, and the other times, could very well be memories and not hallucinations."

There was no doubt in Tom's mind that what he saw had been real, but it troubled him to have Chakotay confirm it. His hands slowly turned the coffee mug on the table in front of him.

Receiving no response, Chakotay continued, "If that's true. If you've got some ability to connect with them because of that contamina—" He cut off. Apparently 'contamination' was too harsh a word. "That contact with the alien down on the surface, then anything you saw could help us."

Tom nodded and stared down at his hands wrapped around the hot mug of coffee. Steam wafted up from the liquid's surface resembling the heavy mist on the planet below. Nothing it seemed would let him forget what happened, and if Chakotay were suggesting that he intentionally tap those creatures' memories, he wasn't sure he would comply. He couldn't survive witnessing B'Elanna's death at their hands.

"Aren't the prisoners talking?"

Chakotay sighed. "They deny everything. Hell, they might actually believe they are the away team. The 'captain' has gone so far as to threaten me with court martial."

"Court martial." Tom smiled ruefully. Ensign Renning's red bloated face popped into his mind. How satisfying it would be to wrap his hands around that fat neck, and squeeze the truth out of him. His hand twitched in an involuntary response to the imagined scene, and a dollop of the steaming liquid stung his skin. That's not the way.

With great effort he turned his attention to Chakotay."When are we going back down there? They may be dead. If they're alive they're suffering. I don't—" He bit his lip, holding back a wave of emotion that threatened to wash over him if he continued to speak.

Chakotay gripped his shoulder, a reassuring gesture. "The team's ready, and we'll find them. But it's a huge risk to blindly send another team down. We're waiting on the final surface scan, and then—"

"If we wait any longer, there won't be anyone left to bring back."

Chakotay's hand fell away, Tom could see the strain of the last few days had taken its toll on the commander, too. His face was drawn and there was a weariness in his voice. "Tom, as the commander of this vessel, I have to make decisions based on facts, not on my feelings. I'd do anything to get them back, you know that, but I can't rush in there at the risk of losing another team."

Tom saw it clearly in his eyes; Chakotay hurt as much as he did, but he had a ship to command and remembered his duty. Tom straightened and drew a calming breath. In all this turmoil, he'd almost forgotten who he was, what he stood for, and as much as Tom wanted to get the team back, have B'Elanna safely home, he couldn't argue with Chakotay…couldn't argue with the truth.

The commander stood. "I think we've discussed this enough for now. Get yourself a bite to eat, and try to get some rest. I'm going down to see if Tuvok has made any progress with the interrogations. If you remember anything else, you'll let me know."

Tom nodded. "Aye, Sir."


"Mind if I join you for a few minutes?"

Tom who intentionally sat alone in the mess hall, looked up from his partially eaten dinner and saw Harry standing there with a PADD in one hand and a cup in the other. "Sure."

Head in his hand, Tom resumed pushing his food with his fork as Harry took a chair across from him.

After a few moments of silence, Harry spoke. "You feeling all right?"

When Tom shifted his gaze from the meatball on his plate to Harry, and saw his friend's reaction to how he looked, he said, "What do you think?"

"Listen," said Harry, not one to be put off that easily, "I know you've been through hell these past few days, and you probably don't want to be bothered right now, but I have something here that you might want to see." He placed the PADD on the table and turned it so Tom could see.

"I've been compiling data from all the surface scans, and I noticed a slight fluctuation in the numbers." A smile spread across Harry's face, as he pointed to the data on the screen.

"Explain this to me," said Tom, too tired for guessing games, but Harry's obvious excitement nonetheless piqued his interest. "All these numbers look like dots."

Harry leaned closer as if he was about to tell some great secret. "You know there's a dampening field covering virtually all the area where we've been searching, and we haven't been able to contact the team, or they us."

"Yeah." C'mon, Harry, tell me something new.

"I think we've found them."

Tom dropped the hand on which his chin had rested and sat up. He stared at Harry, and tried to speak, but words failed him.

"See?" Harry moved his chair around to the side so they could see the display together as he explained. "On these scans, the field is generally expressed by these numbers here." He indicated a line of digits displayed on the screen. "But they spike periodically, just slightly, at three minute intervals. And it's all coming from a single point, a good five kilometers from base camp. This fluctuation wasn't there before the mission started. I've gone back and studied previous scans. In fact, the spikes started to appear only two hours ago." Harry took the PADD and gazed at it almost reverently. "It's a signal alright. It's got to be."

"Harry," Tom said, barely finding his voice, "Does Chakotay know about this?"

"Oh, I couldn't keep news like this to myself. I sent him the information as soon as I found out." He picked up his cup to take a sip.

Suddenly energized, Tom smacked Harry on the back, grabbed his shoulder and shook it heartily, causing his friend to spill tea on himself and the PADD. "Harry…you're a genius!" He got up from the table and started toward the doors.

"Where you going?" Harry asked, wiping his shirt with a napkin.

"To convince Chakotay to put me on the recovery team," he said, "If what you're saying is true…I have to bring my wife home."