The Colonel- Series 2- Sequel to the Colonel

by ray gower

Captain Janeway learns more about the Colonel and faces some home truths. Seven of Nines 'Involvement' becomes deeper and B'Elanna receives a much awaited proposal eagerly accepted. Of course catching the Colonel is one thing, keeping him is another

2. Entrapment

Entrapment

Voyager detects and springs a Borg trap laid to ensnare it. Unwittingly they fall into a second as they are attacked by another ship..

Voyager and characters (except the Colonel) in this story are copyright of Paramount. No resemblance is intended to any person alive or dead.

The story line the Colonel and additional characters are my own.

Constructive criticism and comments are welcome on e-mail story@rgower.f9.co.uk.

If like me you like to know why things occur like they do, I would heartily recommend you start at chapter 1-01 Castaway.

This story is rated PG on the UK sensors ratings

©R Gower 2000

A green clad figure sat on the top of the little hill over looking the barracks and the village next to it, his back resting against a rock, looking intently into the clear night sky. He was not sure what he was looking for, but his heart told him there was something there somewhere.

A second, more portly figure approached him. "It's no use Sergeant Major O'Neil. You have to accept he is dead and not going to come back!" He sighed.

The first figure stood, revealing it to be a man, a truly big man, 6' 8" tall, broad across the shoulders, arms and legs like tree trunks, his fists, curled in frustration, looked like big hams in the moon light. He spoke with a thick Ulster accent, "Nothing can kill him, Sir! Definitely not those ugly bastards that took him, he'll be back," he vowed defiantly.

The second man, touched by the solid and unflinching conviction of the Sergeant Major, smiled, "Perhaps your right, certainly not by normal means at any rate, but he will be too late, we leave this base to the Americans tomorrow and you've things to do."

"Sir!" Snapped Sergeant Major O'Neil, lurching into reality again.

"Carry on Sergeant Major!" The second figure commanded.

"After you, Sir! Can't have a General walking around without a guard," the Sergeant Major announced.

The second figure, Lieutenant-General Horace Fletcher, smiled, it belied the bond of friendship and faith that had formed between the two over many years of service, and had been reinforced by the mysterious disappearance of their mutual and close friend, the commander of one and the executive officer to the other. Force of habit made both men take a last look at the sky, "You know Patrick. If he's still alive and up there, he'll be scaring the life out of some poor soul," he commented quietly as they trudged back to the camp. The Sergeant Major grunted in agreement.

"Are you sure this thing is safe?" Screamed Captain Janeway in a state approaching terror, over the sound of the clattering rotary engine sat less than six feet from her seat.

"Safe as houses Ma'am," the Colonel assured her calmly from the rear cockpit.

She was sitting in the front cockpit of the Colonel's flying museum piece. She had finally succumbed to the enthusiastic encouragement of Lieutenant Tom Paris, to take a pleasure flight in the Colonel's aeroplane. So far it was far from pleasurable and they had not even left the ground yet. She kept eying the cowling in front of her nervously, imagining what would happen if the whirling cylinders in front of her decided to follow the flames she could clearly see spitting from the side.

"Are you sure it will fly?" She squeaked again.

"It did yesterday, I see no reason to believe it not to today, Ma'am," the Colonel stated casually, "With your permission Ma'am, I shall endeavour to take off," he continued.

"Get on with it," she yelled, "And stop calling me Ma'am."

"Very good, Captain," He answered unconcernedly pushing the throttle open.

She screamed at him in frustration. For nearly eighteen months she had been trying to stop him being quite so formal when she was off duty. For nearly eighteen months he had doggedly refused, keeping to the protocols laid down for him by his own regulations. She had hoped selfishly, she had admitted to herself, that it would be one of the little things that Seven had managed to change when rebuilding his mind, but clearly it wasn't to be. She screamed again, in alarm this time, as the Colonel banked the relic hard to avoid the trees at the edge of the aerodrome.

"Madam weighs more than some of my other passengers," he complained calmly from the back seat.

"Are you saying I'm getting fat?" she threatened from hers, looking back.

"I would never claim such a thing of a lady, Captain," he protested.

The Captain settled down to watch from the cockpit as the ground below slipped casually past. "Tom is right about one thing, the world does look different from this thing, compared to a shuttle," she admitted.

"Sort of large, round and very hard?" Suggested the Colonel unhelpfully.

She looked back sharply at him. She hadn't realised she had spoken aloud. Seeing a trace of a smile in the goggles he was wearing, she smiled herself, "I'll take control of this thing and land if your not careful Colonel," she warned.

"As you wish Captain," he replied, taking his hand from the control column and waving it to her.

She sank quickly back into her seat, feeling the aircraft lurch in its sudden freedom, "What do I do?" She screamed.

"Taking the stick would be a good move Captain," his voice laughed at her from the back. She did so feverishly.

"Now if you push it slightly to the left, it will stop the slow roll we are entering. Pulling it back a little will stop the nose from dropping any further," his voice instructed, "Thank you Captain, I don't think we will die today," he added.

"You wait till I get you on the ground," she yelled at him, "I'll put you in the Brig for that stunt!"

"As you wish Captain," he replied calmly, she could hear laughter in his voice, he knew she wouldn't carry out the threat.

"I simply demonstrated that the aeroplane is safe. As madam wishes to return and we will take on the aspect of a cartwheel if we attempt to land with the wind on the beam, perhaps we should attempt a turn?" He suggested.

"Okay I'm listening," she called.

Quietly and confidently he started to teach her to fly an aeroplane.

Lieutenant Torres entered the Mess for lunch cheerfully. Today and the previous day had been one of those days where everything had gone right; the engineering team had performed perfectly, the warp engines had realigned without a single glitch and she had had a truly awe inspiring experience with Tom Paris during the evening on the holodeck, courtesy of the Colonel's aeroplane. She had told him about it all night in her quarters.

Taking her tray and carefully avoiding examining what was on it, she looked around the mess trying to decide who to enlighten with her good mood. She spotted Seven of Nine sitting on her own gazing out the window, she sauntered over to the tall blonde.

"Good morning Seven. May I join you?" B'Elanna asked carefully, despite the Colonel's influences Seven of Nine could still be moody at times.

"That will be acceptable," Seven agreed calmly.

Torres settled at the table, "So where's the man today?" she enquired cheerfully.

"The Captain wished him to demonstrate his aeroplane," Seven answered.

"This early?" Torres was surprised, it was barely 11 o'clock.

"It was the only time available that was convenient to the Captain and the Colonel wishes to convince her to let him return to duty," she explained.

"It's only been a week since he was at death's door, shouldn't he wait and recover!" Torres exclaimed in surprise.

"He believes he is ready," Seven announced, "He wishes not to be a 'freeloader'," she pondered the last word carefully, then confessed, "I am uncertain as to the nature of the meaning of the term."

Torres laughed, "It means he wants to be himself and work," she explained gaily, "What does you think?"

"He needs to learn about his new mind. He will learn better when he is performing his duties and we will find out if an error was made. He is different!" She claimed fervently.

Torres caught the worried implication, and gently laid her hand on Seven of Nine's, "From what I've seen, he is different," she agreed, "But not a lot, he is not quite as hard on himself as he was, but you've put a lot of your own strengths in him, so he will be better able to cope," she added earnestly.

"I merely assisted him to carry out his last orders," Seven protested vehemently.

"No!" Snapped Torres, "You proved to him that people can and do care deeply for him, as much as he cares for them, I don't think anybody has ever done that before! He wouldn't accept it before, he couldn't, his old mind wouldn't let him," she continued gently, trying to comfort the fretful ex-borg.

She suddenly smiled, "How about you? Now you've got him, was it worth the chase? Is he what you expected or has it been a big anticlimax?" She asked slyly.

Seven of Nine sat for a moment, nonplussed by the sudden change of direction. "I still encounter some of the symptoms described in the romantic fictions supplied by the doctor," she claimed, "They are within acceptable limits. He is more responsive, it has been acceptable," she claimed with a rare smile.

Torres laughed with relief for her friend, "I am glad, and if that was your normal understatement then I'm also jealous. I hope your giving him chance to recover!" She squealed with delight.

"You deserve to be happy, you've earned it, after that chase. I still remember our discussion on Kellor, when he didn't cooperate, it gives me nightmares. I'd have killed Tom if he'd tried that on me!" She claimed earnestly

"Events have shown the reasons for his resistance," Seven of Nine pointed out, serious again.

"Yes, they have," agreed Torres quietly, "But it can't have been easy. "

Tom Paris arrived at their table.

"What are you two conspiring about?" He asked lightly, sitting at their table.

"Oh! Just a sympathetic ear," Torres smiled at him, "We've been comparing notes and I think you've got some catching up to do!" She claimed wickedly, "Dinner tonight, in Paris at a show, your taking me out," she commanded.

"Yes Ma'am!" The surprised Paris announced.

After nearly three hours the Colonel allowed Captain Janeway to attempt to land his aircraft, his hand carefully hovering over the controls as she bounced it forcefully to the ground. The first attempt had it soaring high into the air again, as she brought it down too hard. Again she found herself shrieking in a mixture of alarm and fury as the simple flying machine seemed to garner a mind of it's own as it neared the ground. The second attempt was much better, the aircraft merely bouncing hard several times. Gratefully she brought it to a stop.

As the engine stopped turning, he climbed out and helped her from the cockpit, lifting her bodily out and cradling her in his arms as he jumped from the wing. Gently he set her on the ground. Captain Janeway staggered drunkenly for a few moments, grabbing his arm again for support.

"Tom was right about the whole experience. That was exhilarating, nothing like a shuttle and far more interesting," she babbled.

The Colonel watched her with amusement as she chattered away about the feelings she had experienced. He had felt them himself, after Seven of Nine had first activated it and had heard them several times from others who had begged to try this strange new programme.

"Should I call security?" He asked at last, "You expressed a desire to see me in the Brig," he pointed out as calm as ever.

She laughed, "That won't be necessary, I'll just tell Seven you carried me in your arms without being asked," she responded gleefully, "She'll break every bone in your body."

"That's probably true," he nodded pensively.

"Let's go for lunch," she announced cheerfully, grabbing his arm again. She had enjoyed being held in his arms as well, it was not a luxury she allowed herself often, certainly not from this man.

"Tell me how long did it take to train pilots in one of those and how?" She asked, as she led them towards the mess.

"The how is easy Captain, they learnt the same way as you've just done, by flying it, no simulators then," he commented, "How long varies depended upon the pilot and circumstances. During the First War for instance, some would have been lucky to get ten hours flying, including the solo flight, before being given their aeroplane and told to fly to France. That included niceties like how to navigate using a map whilst flying. By the Twenties, when that Avro was flying, somebody decided that it would be a good idea to get a few of their expensive aeroplanes and pilots back, so they created flying school and a whole host of subjects to go with it, like weather, until then if you could see the other side of the airfield, then you could fly," he continued casually.

"It must have been terrifying," she commented.

"I don't think most of them lived long enough to be scared," he suggested quietly.

"A perfect career for you then!" She countered waspishly.

"I'm mad, Captain, not stupid," he countered, "If God had intended me to fly he would have given me wings," he claimed fervently.

"I'm not sure he hasn't," she answered him, tactfully releasing his arm as they entered the Mess. "Now what's your pleasure, my treat!" She announced.

"I'll take whatever Mr Neelix has in the pot," he affirmed, "I'm still a home cooking boy at heart," he confided.

She sighed with disappointment, even with the Colonel's advice and Neelix's enthusiasm, the Mess menu still tended to leave things to be desired. Out of loyalty, she helped them both to plates of the lunch time stew. They walked, with their plates, to a vacant table in the corner of the room and settled to talk as they ate. They were joined shortly after by Seven of Nine, exchanging tables.

"Well Seven," the Captain announced, "I know you softened him to suit you, but couldn't you have softened him for me as well?" She teased, "He's just as stiff as before. He offered to call security earlier because I threatened him with the Brig. He's impossible!" She laughed.

"Captain?" Seven questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Just once, I'd like to hear him use my name and not Captain, or Ma'am, or worse!" She claimed in exasperation.

"How do you feel now?" She asked, turning seriously again.

The Colonel considered the question for a moment, then replied simply, "Bored, Ma'am."

"I suppose your want to ask if I am going to let you return to duty?" She asked.

"Don't look innocent," she demanded, as she spotted the Colonel's eye's open wide in mock surprise, "I'm getting to know you, Alan Samuels, I know you've been sitting in on the Dog Watch."

"Lieutenant Colonel Samuels, formally requesting to be returned to active duty, Ma'am?" The Colonel snapped the request out dutifully.

"I'm not going to make it so easy for either of you," she answered wickedly, "I'm going to ask your real commander. Seven, is he ready to get out of bed in the mornings?"

"He is ready, Captain" Seven replied loyally.

"The Captain smiled, "I don't entirely believe you are, but I don't think I can stop you," she commented, "Present yourself for duty tomorrow morning," she announced, making her decision.

"Thank you Ma'am," the Colonel sighed gratefully.

"Thank you for the ride, I would like to try again at some point, see if I can land without driving my spine through my skull! But for now you will both excuse me," she declared, standing up. The Colonel stood and saluted as she did so.

"That's something else we need to work on. Getting you to stop saluting!" She laughed as she walked away.

"Miss Nine, I am at your disposal for the rest of the day, what are your orders, Ma'am?" He asked cheerfully.

"I need to inspect the power distribution system on deck ten, you may assist me," she informed him dispassionately.

The Dog Watch paraded for him as the shift started, wearing big smiles, they now unofficially referred to themselves as 'The Colonel's Dogs', and were proud of the status that had seemingly been given them by the Captain. Between themselves they had inspected each other, picked out every small flaw and corrected it. Carefully he inspected them, to the amusement of Chakotay, try as he might he could find no fault in their dress.

"Not bad!" he confessed at last, "Even Ensign Carver seems to have had a shave this morning," he continued gruffly.

"Now you're probably wondering if I've mellowed over the last few weeks, or if I'm still what I was? Well for once I can't give you an answer, so we will have to find out the hard way. I have here," he paused as he pulled several PADD's from his pockets, "Several scenarios that Miss Nine and Lieutenant Commander Tuvok have concocted at my request. I've not checked them. I think we will ask Commander Chakotay to choose which ones we test and we'll see if I can still do the job I've been put here to learn. Commander If you don't mind?" He finished, offering the PADD's to Chakotay.

He took them and read the synopsis's carefully, finally he selected one saying, "I think Tuvok is as interested as I am in the answer to this, let's try a Caretaker type scenario on you!"

"That's a little unfair Commander!" Protested the Colonel gently, "Still, we'll see what happens."

Chakotay set the scenario running from the Science Station and the Colonel set to his task.

He had been working for less than an hour, when he felt a stinging sensation in the back of his head where the implant lay, absently he rubbed the area gently. Chakotay noted the action, picking up the small insignificant action as the Colonel had been teaching the rest of the crew to do.

"The scenario proving too difficult for you?" He teased gently, smiling.

"No Sir," he responded, "I think it may be Miss Nine dreaming, I find I get some interference sometimes. They can be quite illuminating, but this time it is uncomfortable, so I suspect she may be having something like a nightmare," he explained.

Chakotay smiled, "You two are getting too close, you want to go and look after her?"

"Not at the moment Sir, thank you. It's not serious, but I'll keep a track of it. I have things to do here," he announced, again he bent to his work. The solution was starting to look quite complex, the Colonel was deploying the entire resources of the crew, in his attempt to establish a long-lasting peace between the xxxx and yyyy. He had three separate Away Teams working and both of the ship's shuttles being used as defensive patrols, Chakotay was struggling to keep the simulation running.

Suddenly the Colonel emitted a short yelp of pain and held the back of his head.

"The implants playing up, should I call the Doctor?" Chakotay asked quickly, concern showing on his face.

"No Sir!" The Colonel refuted stoutly, "There's something else, but I don't know what it is."

"Ensign Carver," he suddenly announced, "Run a Sub Space interference scan," he commanded.

"Sorry Sir," he added to Chakotay, "But I think we may have another problem."

"Is that a hunch, or do you know?" Chakotay questioned.

"It's not something I'd wake the Captain for yet, but yes," he answered.

"There is some unusual Sub Space interference Sir," Carver announced, checking his logs, "But I can't form a pattern.

"Ensign Kala, work with Ensign Carver, try and isolate a pattern and a source," the Colonel ordered.

"Ensign Torick what's on the long range sensors, then do a high sensitivity sweep, we may need a bolt hole very soon," he continued.

Chakotay looked at him sharply, "You're very certain?"

"I understand the Borg use sub-space transmissions to connect to their drones Sir," the Colonel replied, "Normally that isn't a problem to anybody. Miss Nines implants filters out spurious messages without conscious effort. But if the bastards are close enough, I think it may be possible for me to pick them up. I haven't got the same level of automatic filtering built into my implant and it doesn't know what to do with them, but I would have thought we would be close enough to see them though!"

"Nothing on the sensors," reported Torick.

"There is a Borg trace in the interference," advised Kala from the Science Station.

"I think it may be time to awaken the Captain and my sleeping beauty Sir," the Colonel announced quietly, "There is a problem out there!" A hint of concern was starting to show on the Colonels chiselled face.

Chakotay nodded in agreement, "Captain to the Bridge, Seven of Nine to the Bridge," he intoned quietly.

The Captain responded quickly, but there was no reply from Seven of Nine.

"Permission to release the ship to you and collect her, Sir?" The Colonel asked quickly.

"Carry on," Chakotay informed him taking his seat.

The Colonel ran for Seven of Nine's quarters.

"Report?" the Captain snapped blearily as she stepped on the Bridge, finding the Colonel missing.

"We think there is a Borg presence in the area, but we can't find it. The Colonel has gone to fetch Seven of Nine for assistance," Chakotay advised her quietly.

"How do you know then?" The Captain asked sharply.

"The Colonel thinks he can 'feel' their presence," he said simply, "Let him explain it when they return," he suggested.

She nodded an acceptance and took her seat.

"Captain. We've got a limited directional fix on the signals," reported Carver from the Science Station he was sharing with Ensign Kala.

"Where are they from?" The Captain asked.

"They're from four distinct directions, two are behind, one in front, one below, Captain," he advised, "Passing results to Tactical and Navigation," he continued.

"Captain. Evasion course computed and laid in, Awaiting orders, Ma'am!" Reported Crewman Winston, "Wish to advise course will lead us into a particularly empty sector, Ma'am. Nowhere to hide! Examining alternate courses."

The Captain was impressed, "The watch are doing things the way the Colonel claimed he would make them do them," she thought, "Working for and between themselves, preparing solutions for anything that he could demand."

"Very good," she stated, "Your alternate courses, put them on the screen please crewman," she commanded, she had her own ways of doing things.

"Computers' recommended course, showing in yellow Ma'am," intoned Winston, "Leads us away from the threats, but there is no cover for us in 20 light years. Alternate course, in blue, would allow us to use six planetary systems to mask ourselves, but could take us close to a transmission source," he explained as a second jagged route appeared.

"Is this the Colonel applying his ground skills?" She wondered aloud, examining the alternate route with it's many twists and turns, "Using anything available for cover."

"He has encouraged us to look for every detail, Ma'am, no matter how small, it does seem to work, most of the time," agreed Winston.

"Which is your recommendation crewman?" She asked, with interest, the second course she admitted to herself, wouldn't have occurred to her before.

"Without more reliable information Ma'am. I think I would use the computers' recommendation and gun it," Winston admitted reluctantly, "But it takes us off-course by quite a margin, Ma'am, if it's a trap we could be in trouble," he finished.

"I agree," she reassured him, "And the alternate route is a little too complicated for my liking," she added.

"I have a third option, whilst we're waiting for something positive, Ma'am," Winston offered carefully.

"Go on," she encouraged.

"The first system on the alternate route appears to have three planets with an unusually high magnetic flux, we could simply hide there?" Winston suggested, "We could use the deflector and the fluxes to hide ourselves."

She nodded, recognising the tactic from experience, "Do it!" She demanded, "Perhaps Seven of Nine can shed some light on the circumstances."

The Colonel entered the quarters he shared with Seven of Nine, he could hear her tossing and whimpering as she lay asleep on the bed.

"Computer, lights 50%, please," he commanded quietly. As the lights came on, he sat on the bed next her, taking her hand. He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead, she was sweating profusely. For a brief moment he wondered if the pain he was feeling from the implant was because she had caught a fever, and everything was a false alarm. Quickly he dismissed the idea, the senses that had helped keep him alive all these years had never been wrong before.

"Come on Duck, it's time for you to wake up," he whispered in her ear, gently nuzzling it.

She woke with a scream, sitting up sharply. Immediately he put his arms around her, holding her close, "It's okay, my love, it was a bad dream," he whispered in her ear, "Your safe, I've got you!"

She turned her head and buried it into his shoulder. "I dreamt that I was being chased by Borg," she sobbed, "I couldn't get away and they assimilated the crew and ship."

"I know," he claimed softly, "I felt it too. But they haven't got us and the only way they'll get to you is through me," he comforted her, gently stroking her golden hair.

"They'll kill you," she sobbed.

"They've done a bloody bad job of it so far," he pointed out gently, "And trying to get you won't improve their chances any. Your part of my life, I won't let you go!" He continued softly.

Gradually she regained control of herself again, comforted by the Colonels arms around her, his gentle voice and the gentler kisses he was offering.

"You knew?" she accused softly, "How?"

"I've gained a headache from the implant," he confessed gently, "I sometimes pick up something from you when you're asleep, I usually succeed in ignoring them, but this is different. There is more to this than meets the eye, we need to discuss it upstairs, if you're able?" He asked quietly.

She nodded reluctantly.

"You believe that there is danger?" She asked pointedly, recovering her composure.

"Yes," came the simple reply.

He noted her change of attitude as the clinical side of her nature took control.

"The last time my sixth senses were jangling like this, I was in a trench in a battle line, two hours before the heaviest artillery bombardments I've ever been victim of started. I don't know what it is, but I know it's there."

He turned away and rummaged in a draw as she quickly dressed herself in the fine but strong leather suit he had made her, so long ago it seemed now. "I am ready," she announced calmly.

"Good," he announced, inspecting her carefully, "you're a real dish, dressed like that. Suggestive, but not too revealing," he whispered in her ear, then giving her a playful peck on the cheek, attempting to cheer her up a little.

"Shall we go?" He asked offering his arm.

She took it gratefully, then kissed him back.

"Well Colonel, I hope there is a good explanation for all this fuss?" Announced the Captain drily, as they stepped on the Bridge, "We've lost all the Sub-Space static."

"Forgive me Ma'am, I am hoping there isn't. I sincerely hope it's just me being over reactive to a nightmare," he commented grimly.

She examined his grim face and immediately accepted his comment, "You have a theory?" She asked.

"Personally I haven't a clue. But Miss Nine has," he answered quickly.

"Escort Seven to the Conference Room, I'll get Tuvok and B'Elanna in as well," she commanded.

"Tell us what has happened so far!" She barked as they settled at the table, she noticed Seven had sat herself close to the Colonel, seeking his protection, she looked pale and drawn. "She's terrified of something," she thought, again she marvelled at the changes that the Colonel's affections had wrought upon the ex-borg, her human side was certainly taking control of her, she decided.

Quickly the Colonel went over the events on the bridge up to his departure.

"You've had feedback from Seven before, are you sure it's not just the effects of a nightmare?" Suggested Torres hopefully.

"I wondered about that," he confessed ruefully, "But it felt all wrong. I've only had feedback a couple of times, but I found if I concentrate hard enough I can get the impression of what is going on. It has never been painful, usually the direct opposite," the Colonel admitted with a sheepish grin.

"Captain, I believe the Borg may be attempting to track us," announced Seven nervously, gently biting her lower lip. It was the first time she had spoken since she had arrived on the Bridge.

"How?" The Captain asked sharply, then noticed the blonde flinch, and wished she hadn't made it so harsh.

"When I regenerate, my implants go into an automatic response mode so that they may receive and transmit data to the alcove," she explained, "For the Colonel to receive them it suggests they do the same should I sleep. It is not normally a problem, every Borg has their own unique frequency, so there is no interference. The implant the Colonel has, shares the same frequency but the range and sensitivity is limited, so again restricting interference unless desirable. If the Borg were to set a series of Sub-Space transmitters tuned to the frequency of my cerebral implants, they could transmit and receive a limited amount of information whenever I regenerate and I would be unaware of the events. The power required could fall within the capabilities of the Colonel's device to detect."

The room stared at her in alarm.

"How much do they know?" Wondered the Captain aloud.

"Very little," replied Seven, "The Colonel's implant is not configured to receive Borg codes, that is why they hurt him. It therefore seems unlikely that they have been in contact for more than one, possibly two days, or else he would have felt them before. They will certainly not know that we have intercepted the transmissions."

"What can we do to block the transmissions, Tuvok?" The Captain asked.

"I can erect a dampening field around the ship," he offered calmly.

"Perhaps we should consider what we can do with the tactical advantage, Ma'am?" Suggested the Colonel.

"Explain please Colonel?" The Captain asked quickly.

"What strikes me Ma'am," he started, "Is that jamming the signals, is only half the solution, they know where we are, give or take a little. But if we are not actually on a sensor, then all they have to follow is a Radio Direction Finder. If we can figure out what they are picking up and what Miss Nine is sending, could we configure a probe to follow a course and periodically emit suitable signals? That way we can send them on their own merry course."

The Captain nodded in recognition of the sense in the argument, "Is it possible to decode the transmissions?"

"Affirmative Captain," Seven confirmed.

"B'Elanna, probe conversion?"

"A few hours' Captain," announced Lieutenant Torres.

"We are working on supposition, Captain, based upon the Colonel's feelings," pointed out Tuvok impassively, "Are you sure that this is a valid course of action?"

"Yes," she replied bluntly, "Let's do it."

Everybody left to their respective tasks, except the Colonel, who sat with a pensive look on his face.

"There's something else on your mind Colonel," the Captain stated quietly, "What is it?"

"There are a couple of things, Ma'am," he admitted, "The positioning of their sensors, they're not placed properly to form an efficient RDF net. I think they may have been placed for us to find, so that we are pushed in the direction they want us to go. The trouble is which direction do they want? Surely they don't expect us to branch out into the open, we'd stand out like a sore thumb, but they must expect some change in direction to their advantage, they're mindless not dumb."

He sighed, "Perhaps I'm just being paranoiac, looking too deep," he suggested, smiling grimly.

"And the other thing?" She asked.

"I don't think they're interested in Voyager. If we get in the way that would be fine by them, but we're not the target," he offered.

"We've twisted their tails more than once," she reminded him, "What makes you think we are of no interest?"

"Because using Miss Nine's implants makes no sense either, they could use passive sensors just as easily and not be detected. Sooner or later she would notice the signals in the alcove log," he pointed out quietly. "They are after Miss Nine, Ma'am. They are hoping to alarm her into doing something rash, like run off on her own. She would be easy meat then."

"Then they have a flaw in their master plan," she exclaimed, "They don't know she has you to look after her. You will protect her won't you?"

"To my dying breath Ma'am. But it won't be enough." He answered, "Unfortunately she knows that as well and she will work out who they are after very soon. May I suggest we lock her out of the transporters and shuttle bays?"

The Captain nodded, "I'll arrange it, you had better keep close to her until we are over the threat."

"Ma'am!" He replied, he saluted and left in search of Seven.

The necessary conversions were completed within seven hours. Seven of Nine, under the Colonel's watchful eye, briefed them on the contents of the messages she had sent and received.

"They have taken course data," she announced, "But that is all. They have supplied a set of coordinates and a demand that I take a shuttle to that point to be picked up, they have threatened to destroy Voyager otherwise," she admitted calmly.

"How do you feel about it?" The Captain asked gently.

"Captain, I do not wish to see Voyager or the crew assimilated," she started, swallowing hard, "A year ago, I would have detected their message and complied, believing it to be the only way of saving the ship and crew," she confessed, then stopped, unsure of how to continue.

"Go on," the Captain prompted gently.

"I have learnt that others care for me. I wish to remain with you, unless it is imperative to save the crew," she admitted candidly, "You have outwitted the Borg on numerous occasions and have even risked your life to save me. Voyager and the Colonel are my collective. I do not believe either would allow me to leave willingly."

"I'm glad you've learned something from us!" The Captain laughed in relief.

"The Colonel thinks the Borg's objective is Seven of Nine and aren't interested in us. I think he is wrong for once, they want us as well, they know we will chase her if she tried to leave." The Captain announced firmly to the meeting at large. "We will launch two probes, the first will be configured to masquerade as a shuttle containing Seven, the second will make more noise and pretend to be Voyager chasing her, we'll launch it thirty minutes after the first. That will keep them interested, we will lay here for long enough for them to chase after the probes for a while, then slip away using the route Crewman Winston outlined. Tuvok's sub-space dampening field should keep the truth hidden for long enough," she explained, "Any comments, Colonel?"

"Nothing at the moment Ma'am," he agreed amicably.

"Tuvok, launch the first probe," she ordered. "Let's make it realistic. Send orders for Seven to return, then prepare to launch the second probe."

"Captain, probe is launched, return orders transmitted," Tuvok confirmed, "Warp speed in twenty seconds."

The Bridge crew waited as the first then second probe were launched on course for the coordinates the Borg had given.

"We're not out of the woods yet," the Captain reminded them, as the last probe set off on its course. "No transmissions of any sort will be made, all sensors to be set as passive, we'll wait here for six hours then get underway again. The Dog Watch can finish their shift," she decided.

"Ma'am," the Colonel acknowledged.

Six hours later the Dog Watch handed over to the Captain Janeway's prime crew.

"Anything to report Colonel?" Chakotay asked the Colonel, taking over control.

"Course has been programmed and set, Sir. We think we spotted three cubes at extreme range chasing the probes, but they were at extreme range, we lost them again before we could identify them. Otherwise it's been quite quiet," The Colonel announced.

"Thank you. When the Captain arrives we will probably get underway," Chakotay advised.

"You can stay and see us get underway?" He invited.

"Thank you Sir, but I think I will get in the way and it's been a long night," the Colonel declined tactfully and headed for the lift.

He found Seven laying on the bed, awake and waiting for him.

"You should be asleep," he chided gently, "Tuvok's dampening field will stop them tapping your mind, so it's quite safe," he assured her.

"Yet you are still concerned," she pointed out.

"You're much too good with this implant tapping," he smiled.

"I do not need the implant, it is apparent on your face," she retorted, "You still believe there is a danger from Borg vessels. You also still believe I will try to give myself up to them in an attempt to save the ship."

"You're much too sharp for me," he confessed, yawning and sitting on the bed beside her, taking her hand gently.

"Yes, there is still a threat and no, you won't give yourself up to them, one or other of you would have to kill me first." He declared.

"Now move over and let this tired old guard dog lie down, there's a few hours yet before anything will start."

She rolled over, turning her back to him, bringing her thumb to her mouth in a childish gesture of nerves and let him lay down. She felt his arms curl protectively around her, pulling her back tight to his chest.

"Why do I find you so comforting?" she asked softly.

"Perhaps I'm the only one that is prepared to do this to a princess and take the consequences." Whispered the Colonel lightly, gently kissing her neck and squeezing her tighter.

She tried to roll over and fix him with her cold stare, but found he wouldn't let her. She settled for pushing her rump hard into his lap instead.

"I thought Ensign Kim wished to try once," She confided, "He declined vociferously."

"He's a decent enough chap, toes the company line too well for my personal preference, but he'll learn. He's got much better prospects than me!" He commented drowsily, "If you wish, I'll take you to his quarters later?"

This time she did manage to turn over. "You would let me join him but not the Borg?" She demanded sharply.

"Of course, if it was of your own free will," He protested, "I love you and vowed to protect you. I've never asked for you to do the same for me. You owe me nothing, whilst I owe my life to you," He continued gently.

"There are times that I wish you would take up with someone like Kim," he declared, "I still think you are too good for the likes of me. It still puzzles me why you should wish to be spend so much time with me, I have had a history of losing things I care about," He added sadly.

She gazed at the sad and caring face laying on the pillow in front of her. "I find you acceptable." She claimed, kissing him gently on the lips. "Perhaps there will be a point when I will reveal the reasons to you," She vowed rolling over again, pressing her back firmly into his chest and positioning his hands for maximum sensation.

She sighed in satisfaction as she felt his hands gently squeeze her breast and crotch. "Minx!" he whispered in her ear.

They dozed gently.

They were woken with a start as the red alert klaxon sounded. They both sprang from the bed as though stung and struggled to straighten their clothing.

"Put this on," The Colonel demanded, handing her a heavy belt. A long thin knife was attached to it.

She did as she was bid, then in curiosity she pulled the blade out and examined it. The blade was a full 500 mm long serrated along one edge, attached to a simple wooden handle about 200 mm long covered a tube, a simple cross guard separated the handle from the blade.

"What is it?" She asked, "I will be unable to use it!"

"Technically it's a sword bayonet," he explained, "As for using it, believe me you will, if it is necessary," he declared.

His last act as he hurried them through the door, was to grab his rifle and two canvas kit bags. Quickly they made their way to the Bridge.

"I wondered how long it would take you two to get here," commented the Captain quietly as the Colonel snapped to attention on the Bridge threshold. "It looks as though we may both have been wrong, we have a cube chasing us," she said tensely, "Any suggestions?"

"In the absence of clouds, run like buggery, Ma'am?" suggested the Colonel.

"For once we're ahead of you Colonel, but Borg Cubes are slightly faster than us!" was the disconcerting reply from the Captain.

"What we could do with, are smoke and flash bangs, Ma'am," he offered.

"Explain?" The Captain demanded.

"In circumstances like these we used to deploy smoke grenades, flares and things we called snappers, they rattled like machine guns, to disrupt enemy sensors. They allowed us to change positions quickly without them seeing us. Warships and aircraft used chaff and flares to disrupt radar and missiles," he explained quickly.

"Tuvok can we modify torpedoes and probes to achieve a decoy?" Captain Janeway demanded of her Security Officer.

"A probe could be used to emit a continuous Polaron bursts," he admitted, "That will disrupt sensors, Captain. But they will adapt."

"Prepare them, Seven take tactical whilst Tuvok is busy," she ordered, "It seems as though your out of date ideas may come to our rescue again Colonel!" She claimed calmly.

"Aye, Ma'am, lets hope those bastards haven't heard about them," he agreed equally calmly.

"There coming in range now Captain," advised Kim from his station.

The ship lurched heavily as a phasor blast struck it. "Shields down to 80%," announced Kim.

"Seven, target their weapon's arrays, full spread of torpedoes and phasor fire," Janeway ordered.

"Torpedoes away," Seven announced. She paused briefly, then claimed. "Phasor banks discharged."

The Captain looked sharply at her.

"I timed the phasors to concentrate and coincide with the first torpedo detonations," she explained, blushing slightly, "It has overloaded their shields, the third and fourth torpedoes have penetrated, a weapon's array has been eliminated," she advised reading the console.

"Good thinking, do it again," the Captain announced.

"Captain," Seven replied, cocking an eyebrow in recognition.

Again the ship was rocked by Borg fire, "Shields at 30% Captain," advised Kim, "Redirecting Emergency Power, but we won't survive another strike!"

"We've lost Warp, Captain," called Tom Paris.

"Engineering!" She called on the intercom.

"We're on it Captain," advised Torres immediately, predicting the command.

"Tuvok, where's our smoke?" Janeway demanded.

"Ready Captain!" Came his curt reply, "Loading into the torpedo tubes now."

The ship rocked again, "Shields are down," yelled Kim.

A party of a dozen Borg drones suddenly shimmered into existence on the Bridge.

"We are the Borg. You will be assimilated. Resistance is futile!" they intoned, turning to intercept the Bridge occupants.

"Beam them out!" screamed the Captain, leaping from her seat with Chakotay, phasors ready. Two Borg fell to their combined fire, the rest took no notice as their shields adapted to the weapons, another party of Borg appeared and advanced upon the bridge crew.

"They've applied dampening fields, I can't lock on for transporters," yelled Kim, pulling out his own phasor.

"They've adapted," shouted Chakotay, desperately adjusting his weapon.

Their calls were interrupted by six rapid reports as the Colonel started firing his own weapon. Three more drones dropped to the deck.

The Colonel saw a drone reaching for Seven of Nine who was falling back from its reach. Desperately he dived forward and rammed the bayonet of his rifle into the drones back, twisting then pulling it free. Spinning around he saw another approaching Kim, brought his weapon up and fired quickly. "Commander, take this!" he yelled, tossing the weapon towards Chakotay. He drew his sword and swung it at another Borg drone, the great blade ripping its chest open.

"Keep the ship flying," they heard his voice he charged the Borg huddle, "I'll deal with this!"

"Kim, get the shields back up!" Screamed the Captain, as a third and fourth wave of drones materialised and turned towards the immediate threat of a screaming charge from the Colonel.

"Seven launch the probes! Tom helm hard over as soon as they start working!" She continued yelling her orders, in the relative peace of the drones attempting to suppress the Colonel.

He seemed to disappear into the mass, as he repeatedly thrust and swung with the blade. The Borg for their part seemed unsure of how to deal with the fast-moving soldier, their armour prevented them moving quickly enough to intercept him. Their adaptive shielding, so effective against phasors, was totally incapable of adapting to the blade, fist and boot he was wielding with such ferocity. The only solution that the Collective could provide was to join up and push forward, to suppress the threat at all costs. The tactic wasn't succeeding, there were already a dozen drones on the floor from his first charge and the number was increasing.

Unable to use their phasors and bereft of any more suitable weapons, the Bridge crew struggled to regain control of the ship and watch as the fight between the Borg and the Colonel continued. Chakotay, not daring to fire the rifle that had been thrown to him for fear of hitting the hard fighting Colonel, charged at the mass and stabbed the bayonet at a Borg standing in the way. He watched in detached fascination as the drone seemed to straighten, then toppled back as he wrenched the blade from it. He was immediately thrown out by the flailing arm of a struggling Borg, he lay on the deck stunned. Two more Borg made a wild lunge at the Colonel, missed as he ducked away, then slumped to the deck as they injected each other amidst the confusion. Their probes attacking and reassimilating themselves.

The Colonel appeared from the pack, pressed back against the rail as the remaining Borg pressed him. He swung again and lost his footing on the deck now slippery with blood and toppled over the rail, landing with a thud on his back, stunning him. The drones followed.

In a sudden whirl of movement a lithe figure dressed in brown leather charged at them, her narrow blade thrusting out into the neck of a seemingly victorious Borg. She slid it out again and slashed at the face of a second, before being forced to retreat in the face of another two drones. She dropped the blade in surprise at her action and backed up in terror.

"You are Borg," they announced, advancing on her, "You will return to the Collective, You are to be assimilated. Resistance is futile."

Recovering slightly, the Colonel rolled to his knees, then to his feet, in time to thrust his blade into another drone as it plunged at him. The steel blade snapped as the Borg dropped. Undeterred he swung around and buried the remains of the broken blade deep in the chest of the last drone facing him, the force of the blow smacking it back over the rail that he himself had just fallen over.

Looking around he saw Seven of Nine retreating from her two attackers. Letting loose a scream of rage, which froze everybody on the Bridge, he charged them. He caught the first, spinning it around and smacked the palm of his hand into the optical extension, ramming it back into the eye socket, temporarily blinded with pain it staggered away, crashing into a console. He grabbed the last one by the throat, lifting it bodily from the ground, throttling it. "I hope they are watching and listening, in that Collective of yours," he snarled, "Because this is the second time I've fought you bastards and I'm getting really pissed off. Note this and note it well. Seven of Nine is under my protection, if she's to be assimilated it will be by me and of her own free will. If you bastards try to collect her again, so help me, God, I will seek out your Collective and destroy it," With a sharp twist he snapped the drones neck, it fell to the ground, lifeless.

"Colonel, behind you," screamed Kim.

The last drone caught hold of the Colonel and extended its assimilation tubes into his neck. The Colonels eyes went wide with surprise. Immediately he grabbed the arm and spun around, ripping the tubes out again. Continuing to hold the arm firmly he spun again twisting the arm as he went. The prosthetic arm of the tactical drone tore off at the shoulder. Without stopping his spin the Colonel swung the flailing arm across the neck of the stunned drone. It dropped to the ground stunned, the Colonel dropped on it, hands on its throat, throttling the life out of it. As the drone stilled the Colonel looked around, seeing an absence of further risk he slumped to the ground, blood flowing freely from the lacerations on his throat.

"Status?" Snapped the Captain, recovering from the shock at the ferocity of the bloody fight, she had just witnessed.

"Shields are up again Captain!" Announced Kim, returning his attention to the console.

"Adjusting course Ma'am," announced Paris.

"Engineering to Bridge, We've unwelcome company down here!" B'Elanna's voice sounded.

"Chakotay!" Snapped the Captain in desperation, "Take the Colonel's weapon."

"On my way," he announced, hefting the unfamiliar weapon the Colonel had thrown him and dashing for the lift.

"Seven of Nine to Sick Bay, medical emergency on the Bridge," called Seven of Nine on her communicator, kneeling by the Colonel.

He took her hand gently, "The bags I brought up, they contain Thermite charges, strap it to one of the Borg, beam it back to the cube, you know where it will do most good!" His order was a whisper.

"I shall comply," Seven of Nine confirmed gently kissing him. She let go of his hand as his face tensed, went grey and he drifted into unconsciousness. She felt a tingle in the back of her neck, it seemed to be reinforcing her resolve.

She snapped up the bags the Colonel had mentioned, "Captain, your assistance," she ordered, "The Colonel has given instructions to return the Borg with the explosives he brought with him."

"He brought explosives on the Bridge!" The Captain was incredulous, "We could all have been killed!"

"The Colonel believes that if the Borg over powered us, death would be preferable," replied Seven of Nine, as she worked feverishly. "Your assistance is required, we must set the detonators and beam the bodies to the Borg Cube before shields are restored," she continued coldly.

Quickly the Captain stooped to comply with the blonde woman's orders, whilst Seven started to programme the transport.

"I have located the central power system, I shall beam the bodies and remaining Borg there. The explosives will disable the vessel," she announced after a moment.

"Ready," reported the Captain, standing back.

"Transport in progress," affirmed Seven, "We should vacate the area immediately, the Colonel prefers chemical detonators, they are reliable and irreversible, but inaccurate timers, we have approximately five minutes before detonation." She recommended.

"Another cube is on the sensors Captain," Advised Kim

"Tom, full impulse, then maximum warp when available, get us out of here!" The Captain translated the recommendation into an order. "Chakotay, Engineering status?"

"The Borg have gone, Captain," he replied, "They seemed to have lost the will to fight by the time I got here. Warp power will be available in about ten minutes."

The Doctor stepped on the Bridge to find Seven of Nine cradling the Colonel's head.

She looked up at him, "The Colonel has been damaged, he has a wound in the throat and may have been partially assimilated, you will treat him," she demanded.

Suddenly flames were seen emitting from the giant cube, as the explosives sent with the Borg dead erupted.

Seven scanned the Tactical Console, "The explosives have disabled the Borg Vessel. Power readings have ceased." She announced calmly. She turned back to the fallen Colonel.

Quickly the Doctor stooped and examined the Colonel. He applied a hypo-spray, then turned to Seven, "He'll be all right," he claimed calmly. "There are no probes in him, it's just the loss of blood that made him collapse," He advised, "I'll get him to sickbay for treatment."

For the first time in several minutes Seven of Nine appeared uncertain, "I witnessed the drone inject him," She protested.

"Then he didn't inject him with enough," The Doctor argued, "His blood is highly resistant to infection, it may have destroyed them quicker than they could replicate themselves."

Only then did Seven of Nine let herself go, sagging to the floor in tears of relief and fear. Gently the Captain took her hand, "Come with me, we need to talk," she commanded gently, helping her up.

"Captain, something's wrong, there's a huge energy reading coming from the cube," shouted Kim, "It's forming a spatial rift."

"Tom, get us away from that Cube!" she demanded.

"It's no-good Captain, I can't get us away, something is pulling us in!" He called.

"It is a temporal vortex," advised Tuvok taking his station and examining the readings.

The ship lurched towards the vortex that was forming around the cube.

They watched in horrified fascination as the cube disappeared into the vortex, "We're next, I can't hold her," Called Paris, unnecessarily.

The view on the screen seemed to spin as they entered. It continued to turn for nearly five minutes, then they were ejected into a new region of space, the Borg ship barely 100 Km away from them.

"Status?" Groaned the Captain, trying to get the dizziness from her head.

"There are no life signs remaining on the Borg vessel Captain, the temporal vortex has closed," Tuvok advised.

"Where are we?" She asked.

"The computers working on it Captain," Announced Tom Paris, "I don't think we're in the Delta Quadrant though!"

"Damage report?" She asked again hopefully.

"Warp drive is out again, no estimate yet as to when it'll be online again," Tuvok replied quietly.

"I'll be in the Ready Room, with Seven" she announced, "Let me know when there's some good news!" She led the distraught Seven into her room.

As the door closed Seven of Nine collapsed into a chair and cried. The Captain watched her as the pent up emotions flowed unsure of what to do. A memory of a conversation she had with the Colonel came to mind, 'She's not an automaton she is human, she needs to feel cared for,' he had criticised her. She sat beside the distraught woman, putting her arm around her, pulling her close. Seven responded to the act, pushing her head into her shoulder. Eventually the tears stopped and she began to regain her composure.

"I have recovered Captain!" She announced finally, regaining her composure.

"Your command style seems to follow the Colonels pretty closely, is there something you want to tell me?" The Captain asked quietly.

"I wanted to hold him, but he gave me an order and I couldn't refuse. I could feel him try to help me carry it out," she blurted confused.

"The implant?" The Captain asked, "I'll get the Doctor to remove it."

Seven considered the statement carefully, then answered, "No Captain. I do not wish to lose the intimate contact, it has been both enjoyable and comforting," she considered the last words.

"Are you certain?" The Captain asked earnestly, "Nobody wants you to give him control of your mind, I suspect he would lead the protesters," she commented.

"He has never attempted to use it without my permission and it has been helpful. He used it on this occasion because he was concerned for my safety and unable to function properly. It helped me to carry out the actions that were necessary to protect the ship, I wanted and needed his assistance," Seven confessed, still confused.

"Think about it!" The Captain suggested, getting up to return to the Bridge.

"I have Captain," Seven responded firmly, "I wish to go and see him."

"Okay," the Captain agreed, "But I'll have to ask him the same question, he may see it differently," she warned, walking towards the door and the Bridge

"Report?" she demanded, as she sat in her seat beside the newly returned Chakotay.

"Warp power will be back on again in a couple of hours, but we're still not sure how we got here," he replied. "I think the answer is in that cube," he pointed at the dead ship on the screen.

"The computer has a fix on our position, Captain," called Ensign Kim, "But I don't think your going to like it," he added.

"Let's have it," she sighed.

"The good news is, we are in the Alpha Quadrant, barely a light year from Earth," he announced grimly, "But we're six hundred years too early!" He added.

She groaned, "One day we will have some good news without strings attached," she moaned.

"Chakotay, take an away team to the cube and find out what caused the temporal vortex," she demanded.

He nodded and left the Bridge with Tuvok, calling for Seven of Nine and Torres to join him in the Transporter room.

Seven of Nine arrived in the Sick Bay to find the Colonel sitting on the couch with the Doctor fussing around him.

When he saw her, he slid off the bed and walked towards her, leaving the Doctor cursing.

"Really! I can't check if you are free of Borg probes if you keep moving," he protested.

"Just accept the bastards failed!" The Colonel snapped, his irritation at the Doctors fussing showing.

"Perhaps they decided I wasn't a worthy addition to the Collective," he added, grimly.

He put his arms around Seven's slim frame and pulled her to him, "I seem to be forever in your dept. I am sorry you had to use the knife I gave you though, it is upsetting to see death so close for the first time, but it will pass. I am however as grateful as always," he whispered sadly, kissing her forehead.

"You used the implant to make me carry out your instructions!" She snapped, pulling away from him.

She looked into his haggard face, it looked alarmingly like it had a couple of weeks ago when he had collapsed. She also saw his eyes open in surprise.

"No! I would never use our link like that," he denied hotly, "Not without your permission! You know that!"

"Do not deny it, I felt it," She snapped back.

"Never!" He denied again with passion.

"Then what was it I felt?" She demanded, uncertain in the face of such adamant denial from the honest Colonel.

He sat on the edge of a console, "They tried to tap into your implant," he confessed quietly, "I pushed them back. I let some of my demons out, I think they saw some things they didn't want to see!"

"Why did you do it?" She asked shocked, "You could have been destroyed?"

"I told you they would have to get past me, before they could threaten you. I meant it, no matter what the cost. They were threatening you, I responded in the only way I could," he answered flatly.

Seven of Nine's communicator bleeped, calling her to Chakotay's away team.

"Your in demand," the Colonel smiled, "You had better go. Don't worry, I won't go back to what I was without a fight and that is something I know about," he smiled softly, "I'll put them all back again, after a good cup of tea."

She leant into him, putting her arms around him, briefly resting her head against his neck. They kissed gently, "Thank you," she whispered, turning to leave.

"Get!" He smiled, smacking her bottom lightly, "You've got work to do."

He watched her leave, walking tall and swaying, happy again. He sighed wistfully then turned back to the Doctor.

"As you've finished meddling with your electric brain, Doctor, may I go and find some proper medical treatment?" He asked with a wicked smile.

"And what would that be?" The Doctor asked in mock surprise.

"The only thing in the Galaxy that is guaranteed to put injured men on the road to recovery," he announced impressively, "A good strong cup of NAAFI tea. Love it or loath it, you can't be ambivalent over it."

"Very well you can go!" He agreed, "What Seven sees in you I can't imagine?" He added.

"Nor can I, Doctor, that's what makes her so special," The Colonel admitted as he walked through the door.

"Away team to Voyager," called Chakotay as the team looked around their beam in site, "We're aboard, the Borg appear to be all dead, but it doesn't appear to have been just the explosion."

"Keep an open channel," Captain Janeway responded.

"Will do, Chakotay out," He responded.

He turned to Tuvok, who was examining an inactive Borg with a tri-corder. "Anything?" He asked.

Tuvok looked up, "There is nothing mechanically or physically wrong with the drone," he announced impassively, "It appears it deactivated itself."

"What could do that? It takes some major stress for the Borg to commit suicide?" Chakotay was shocked.

"I believe the Colonel may have had an effect," Seven spoke up coolly, "When I was in Sick Bay with him he told me that he blocked a transmission meant for me. It released some of his old fears," she explained quietly.

Tuvok blanched visibly, "That was unwise, they could have killed him," he commented with feeling.

Chakotay looked at Tuvok in amazement, he had never seen him display such a degree of emotion. "How bad could they be?" He asked incredulously.

"Commander, you do not wish to know," Tuvok replied still shaken. "Suffice it to say, they are disturbing even for a Vulcan."

The team split up into pairs to search the cube.

Following a small and intermittent reading upon her tricorder, Lieutenant Torres led Tuvok through the maze of catwalks and corridors, eventually they met a strange machine that had not been integrated into the ship's systems. It appeared to be a simple box about 1.5 Metres cubed, unusual hieroglyphs marked a control panel on one of its matt black sides. They approached the strange device carefully.

"The Borg have a new device aboard," Torres announced over the intercom, "I think it may be the item that created the vortex," she continued, "Seven, I need your help to examine it."

"This is not Borg technology," Seven confirmed a few minutes later and examining her tricorder carefully, "There is a multi-phase Tacion emitter and additional devices that I am unfamiliar with. It has been damaged by a power overload. We should beam it to the ship for closer examination," she declared finally.

She moved to a console and examined that, finally she activated some of the controls. "We will have to download additional information to the ship," she announced, "The device was responsible for the vortex."

Chakotay nodded his agreement. "Away Team to Voyager, we think we have found the cause of our predicament, beam it to Cargo Bay 2, we need a comm. link to download data Seven of Nine has found about it," he called.

"Beaming it out now Commander. Link available," the cool reply came.

The Senior Officers gathered for a staff meeting two hours after the Away Team returned.

"Let's start at the top," announced Janeway, "What killed the Borg?"

"The Verniculum that controls their thoughts shut down during the overload, without its protection they went insane with pain," Tuvok announced grimly, "The Colonel may also have had an effect."

"How?" She asked pointedly.

"Captain, my logs show that a high-power sub-space transmission was directed at my Neural Implants," explained Seven. "The Colonel blocked it, the presence I felt was not him trying to make me carry out his instruction, but the residue from the transmission."

"Where and how did you create a signal that strong without it affecting Seven?" She asked incredulously, looking at the Colonel, he still looked tired and drawn from the encounter.

"I simply carried out my duty, Ma'am. I'd do it again, but it was like ripping out a transplanted organ just because it's the wrong colour." The Colonel replied quietly, "I think the concentration I put into it blew it up though! I can't feel it anymore," there was a trace of sadness in the voice. Seven reached for his hand and patted it for comfort.

"Okay, how about the Time Machine. Why did they have one?" Captain Janeway pressed on.

"There was data I was able to download from the computer matrix," Seven of Nine started, "The device was obtained when they assimilated race 10283, the Trilurians. The vessel was one of eight designated to test the device. Seven of the Borg cubes were instructed to follow Voyager when we were detected. Our ruse was successful, they followed the probes we launched," she confided.

"They intended to use the device's properties to allow travel in time and space to aid in an assimilation of the Alpha Quadrant, the explosion we set off caused it to activate prematurely."

"They intended to arrive here in the past?" The Captain spoke slowly and carefully.

"Precisely," Seven admitted.

"Can we use it to return to the right time as well as location?" Asked Chakotay.

"Details for calculating the settings for the device were not recoverable," Seven admitted uncomfortably, "However the device does have a 'Return to origin' function in its matrix."

"Can we use that?" Chakotay asked, "Even the Delta quadrant is nearer to home than where we are."

"The machine was badly damaged," advised Torres quickly, "We are working on it, but there are some parts we can't replicate."

"Can we improvise or manufacture them?" the Captain asked quickly.

"We aren't sure what they do," answered Torres, "If we could get the materials then perhaps we could reproduce them," she added looking at the Colonel pointedly.

"Why look at me?" he asked in surprise.

"Because you are the only person on the ship, who may be able to arrange the parts we need," she replied simply.

"I think I've missed something," he commented, "Would somebody care to enlighten me as to where exactly here is?"

"You don't know yet?" The Captain was surprised, "We have jumped six hundred years back in time, as near as we can tell you are within two years of where you started out," she explained breathlessly.

"Ah, I see," he announced, "You are hoping that I may be able to touch up a few people from my past to get you the bits, before I go," he thought for a moment.

"Very well, I'll have a look at the parts you want and find a supply for you, Ma'am," He said in resignation.

He stood, "I assume you will wish me to leave quickly and quietly, so I'll pack now, ready for your convenience, Ma'am," he announced flatly.

Saluting he left, leaving the rest of the room staring at each other in stunned amazement.

"No!" Seven gasped in alarm, "He thinks we will force him to leave!"

"It's his home. It's where he belongs," the captain pointed out. "But we won't throw him off," she assured the alarmed Seven of Nine.

"Voyager is his home," protested Seven petulantly. "Captain, when you released me from the Collective. You refused to allow me to return to the collective, despite my wish to do so, because you believed I did not belong with the Borg, because I had been changed. He no longer belongs with what he knew, because we have changed him!" Seven of Nine argued immediately.

"We've stopped him leaving before. When he believed himself to be a danger to you, because there was no where for him to go," the Captain claimed gently. "We are near his real home, we can't stop him this time," she added calmly.

"It is debatable that we have used and benefited from his services, but now you wish to dispose of him with a clean conscience," Seven snapped petulantly, "People expect him to perform his duty then disappear as if he had never existed. He applied that definition to those that required him to perform the tasks he was set on Earth. Perhaps he should also apply them to us?"

"You're saying, he is preparing to leave just because he expects us to want him to go?" Chakotay asked.

"He believes it would save embarrassment for the Captain," Seven claimed hotly.

The Captain sighed heavily, "It's those regulations again, and his sense of duty," she commented, "He's bound to them so tight, I could throttle him with them."

She looked around the room, "Can anybody give me a good reason for him not to go?"

"He's incredibly useful when we're in a scrape," suggested Kim earnestly.

"That is true, but we have survived 'scrapes' before," Tuvok pointed out, "He has sworn a pledge to protect the ship and Seven of Nine, the later was affirmed less than 24 hours ago."

"But the one to serve his army was made more than thirty years ago," pointed out Chakotay, "It probably means as much to him. He is tactically gifted though, we've seen how he predicts events in an emergency, we've seen how he has taught the crew to think and react in an emergency. He is a valuable member of the crew."

But his actions are in contravention to Star Fleet Protocols! Protested Tuvok.

Who cares, they work better than Star Fleets rules! Exclaimed B'Elanna Torres.

"Anything against?" Asked the exasperated Captain.

"He still struggles with the technology," Tuvok announced immediately.

"He'll never be approved by Star Fleet, he'd shake it to its core," announced Paris with a grin.

"Perhaps it needs a good shake," commented the Captain viciously.

"I'm going to try and get him to stay," she decided after some thought, "He has given everything to help us, and he has suffered because of things we've tried to do to him. We owe it to him to make sure he knows he has the choice of staying."

"If you fail, I will remain with him," Seven of Nine threatened, her fine features hardening.

"He'll not let you," the captain pointed out kindly, "Adapting to the life he leads would be more difficult than his adjustments to match us." She got up and left.

The packing of his belongings was the longest and hardest hour of the Colonels' life. As he packed his equipment in to his pack, he thought back over the things he had seen and done in his 18 months on Voyager. He was going to miss everything he thought sadly, the friends, their quiet confidence and encouragement in his struggle to come to terms with the things he didn't understand. The way they had looked to him for help, encouragement and advice in times of need. There was something even more important he was going to leave behind. His heart and soul, he had given it freely to one special person, and she had seemingly returned her own. The realization hurt him to the core. Finally he shrugged the pack on and made for the door, to be met by Captain Janeway.

"Is that all you have after eighteen months?" She asked in shock seeing his pack. "One, half empty rucksack? You have fewer belongings than Seven!"

"I've told you before Ma'am. I travel and live light," he pointed out.

"We don't intend to throw you off the ship!" she blurted.

"That is a pity," he confessed slowly, "Things would be much easier if you were, it would make the breaking of one or other set of pledges seem that much easier."

"I don't want to go, but I must return. It's time to stop fooling myself. That I'm an explorer and spaceman, have friends and family, the love of a beautiful young woman and all the other things I thought only existed in dreams. Now I must wake up, go home and do my duty," he continued, his voice sharp with desperation and sadness.

"You are part of this ship, you don't have to leave! We would like you to stay." She protested.

"I still do not belong here. I still can't even get the replicators to work reliably," he said desperately. "I've put people and things in danger too often, I've got to go for everybody's sake."

But you've rescued us from far worse danger than you've put us in! The Captain claimed.

"How about Seven? She loves you, she's just claimed she will follow you and you will care for her," she asked, desperate now.

"She mustn't," he whispered, swallowing hard, "She belongs here, I belong on the Earth 600 years before you were born. I'll always love her, please tell her that!" he added softly.

Seeing a deep sadness in his eyes, she tried a different approach. "You broke your sword, saving us, perhaps we still need your protection?"

He sighed, "I can forge a new one, it's only steel and I was only doing my duty," he replied.

"You have friends on Earth?" She asked, desperately searching for any argument.

"Yes, I have a couple of friends," he admitted quietly. "They were not like those I have on this ship, they were 'workmates', people to go to the pub with and share the day's experiences, here it's like a social family. I've never even had a family before! I've even found love and kept it safe nearly as long as my marriage, but even that is different, it's deeper somehow. You think I've helped Miss Nine find her humanity, I'll tell you it's been a two-way process, I've found people here who can explain it to me," he explained despondently.

He sighed deeply, "Forgive me Ma'am, the outburst was inappropriate," he declared recovering, "I shall learn how to do without again and return to my duty, I hope it's still there!" He finished in resignation.

He stood to attention and saluted her smartly. "It has been a privilege to meet and serve with you, Ma'am. I'll have a look at the parts Lieutenant Torres requires then await your convenience," he announced calmly and marched out, leaving the Captain staring after him, totally bemused.

"I've come to look at your bits, Lieutenant," the Colonel announced entering Cargo Bay 2.

"They're on the bench," Torres called, getting up from the machine.

He examined the parts on the bench carefully as she joined him.

"I recognise some of these. Your not taking the piss are you?" He asked in surprise, "Are you sure you can't replicate them?"

"You can't possibly!" Disputed Lieutenant Torres, "There's nothing like them on the ship!"

"Don't care what you have on the ship," he claimed stubbornly, "I do know what some of these are!" He insisted.

He picked up a length of buckled rectangular tube, "This for instance looks very like a microwave conduit, simple aluminium. The insides have been plated granted and it is bigger than the ones on our command and communications trucks, but that is what it is. That yellow ball I've seen somewhere as well," he pointed to a yellow sphere 18" in diameter, "And as for this circuit board," he announced waving a flat board at her, "You're having me on, aren't you?"

Torres was stunned by the comments and became flustered. "Nobody channels microwaves through aluminium, the loses are too high!" She claimed desperately, "The tricorder says it is an unusual alloy of gold."

"Can't help what your tricorder says," he countered harshly, "This tube is not an alloy of gold or any other metal, it's too light."

"I worry for the future of mankind when he can't believe his God given senses," he commented quietly, as Torres reached for her communicator.

"Torres to Captain."

"Janeway here," came the instant reply.

"The Colonel is with me in the Cargo Bay looking at the parts we require, he thinks we've made a mistake," she called.

"What sort of mistake?" The Captain asked in surprise.

"He's just identified most of the parts we need," she replied simply.

"I'll be right down. I'll bring Tuvok and Seven!" The Captain announced.

"If I may, I'll have a look at this machine of yours?" The Colonel decided.

The Captain arrived less than ten minutes later. "Report?" She snapped entering the bay.

"Somebody is having a huge practical joke at your expense, Captain," The Colonel announced, standing up from a close examination of the Time Machine.

"This machine," he kicked it in disgust, "Is a back shed lash up! I suspect the only reason it's still in one piece, is because it's so badly made!"

"That's the considered technical appraisal of a caveman is it?" She asked sternly, "Where's B'Elanna?"

"She scuttled off to find a new tricorder," he said, "I upset her when I told her to stop taking the piss."

"Why do you think she was taking the 'piss'?" She asked cautiously.

"Because she took the tricorders' readings as gospel and didn't look at it with her eyes and hands," he replied evenly.

"Go on?" She prompted, as both Tuvok and Seven approached the damaged parts with their tricorders.

"That ball for instance," he pointed to the globe, "Lieutenant Torres claimed was gold and sulphur alloy. I'm not very good with replicator alchemy, but I do know a little metallurgy. I'll tell you nobody will cast a metal with that much sulphur in it. Perhaps that's why you can't replicate it!"

"How do you explain the tricorder readings?" Asked Tuvok, offering his tricorder to the Colonel.

"If I see a bird that, flies, waddles, swims and quacks like a duck, then I say, 'That is a duck'. I ignore the placard it's carrying that says, 'I am a dog'," the Colonel snapped, "That ball started life as sulphur, it was then coated in gold. I don't know why or how, and I don't know why the maker did it so badly."

"Perhaps the questions you should ask are, 'Is this the machine that caused your time shift?', 'Does it have to be made so badly for it to work at all?' And perhaps, ' Who on Earth actually made it?' Then perhaps we could go and ask him for spares and a manual," He continued harshly.

"You weren't using the last question figuratively were you? You believe it was made on the Earth?" The Captain asked carefully, catching the inflection.

"No, Ma'am, I wasn't," he admitted. "I found some part numbers and familiar symbols on some of the undamaged parts. I can even tell you it was built sometime after 1987 and he probably lives in the United Kingdom."

They gazed at him in stunned silence as they took in the full implication of what he was claiming. Somebody from the Twentieth Century had designed and built an operational time machine. The claim was as incredible as it was fantastic.

"You are very certain," Tuvok claimed at last, "Can your claims be proved?"

"Circumstantially. Yes," the Colonel nodded.

Picking up the microwave guide he had examined earlier, he handed it to Tuvok. "On the flange where I've scrapped the gold off, you can see a small arrow and two sets of numbers," he described. "The lower number says 1986, the upper number matches Ministry of Defence pattern as does the arrow. The tube was manufactured in 1986, I suspect it was a reject because there is no serial number. There are several other parts marked similarly, there are even maker's marks on some of the chips on the board that needs replacing."

They looked at each other in amazement.

"Okay, how do we find the person who made it?" asked the Captain brightly.

"I've made a note of some of the part and serial numbers, Ma'am. It might be possible to trace them when I get back to Earth," suggested the Colonel. "But it will take some time, he may not have built it yet, or may have strapped himself to the thing when he set it off. He may even have been locked away in a looney bin by now, the idea of time travel is far fetched," he pointed out.

"We have six hundred years," the Captain pointed out, "We'll start looking!"

She hit her communicator, "Captain to Paris, set course for Earth, full impulse," she ordered heading for the door, followed by Tuvok.

Seven of Nine delayed her departure. I wish you to stay, she declared quietly to the Colonel.

He looked at her in surprise. No, you don't, he assured her. There will be somebody more deserving of you than I am. You will forget me in a few weeks.

I forget nothing, she retorted. I wish to remain in your company. I have feelings for you.

She moved closer, placing an arm around him, reaching up to offer a kiss, but he broke away.

Please! Don't make this any more difficult than it already is! he whispered desperately.

He turned and staggered for the door, leaving Seven of Nine watching him in despair.

Lieutenant Torres had watched silently from behind the time machine came up and took Seven of Nine's arm, turning her around to face her.

Seven, you okay? She asked, seeing the distraught look on the ex-Borgs face.

I wish him to stay! Seven of Nine said carefully controlling her voice. Yet he wishes to leave me.

There was real anguish in those blue eyes, B'Elanna decided, and she felt for her.

He doesn't, not really. He doesn't think he has a choice, now we are close to his Earth! B'Elanna tried to explain.

Just let the Captain work on it, she continued. You won't be the only one that will miss him if he goes. She will as well. It means she is as determined as hell to keep him.

Seven of Nine considered the engineers comments, then straightened up. We will see, she declared more stiffly. The Colonel will remain on the ship. With that she marched stiffly from the bay, leaving B'Elanna gazing after her in concern.

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