Four hours and thirty-seven minutes later, all functioning senior crew officers were gathered in the briefing room. The three vacant seats that belonged to Seven of Nine, Tom Paris, and the Doctor were plainly being avoided.
Janeway, frustrated, paced behind her chair. "Seven and Tom are deathly ill by a communicable cancer, echoing each other's actions and, apparently, each other's feelings. Yet no one else on board has any sings of this cancer. Anyone have any ideas? Suggestions?"
All of her officers were busy in thought. Harry looked exhausted, as if he had not slept in a week, even though she had told him to sleep after his debriefing. Hesitantly, he said in a scratchy voice, "Maybe if we examined each method of transfer and ruled them out one by one?"
Janeway nodded and plopped down in her chair at the head of the table. She steepled her fingers together. "Good point. Air is a negative or we'd all have it by now. Some sign would show. Anyone else?"
Chakotay glanced at Torres, not sure if he should bring up his point. Janeway caught the look and pinned him down with a stare of her own until he cracked. "We can rule saliva out. I seriously doubt if Seven and Tom are…together secretly and B'Elanna hasn't shown any signs of the cancer."
Torres glowered but refrained from speaking.
"Not blood, either," Neelix piped up. "Right?"
Tuvok frowned. "Not necessarily. If their blood mingled from a cut that bled then the possibility is likely."
Torres sat up abruptly. "That's it!" She exclaimed. "When Seven hit her head, she was bleeding. Tom had burned his hand, exposing blood and the bottom layers of his skin. He used his burned hand to clean some blood from her forehead. When he was taken to sickbay, Seven's blood covered his arms. That's a plausible explanation."
Janeway felt refreshed. "That is indeed. It explains a great deal and lends more knowledge and understanding to this strange cancer.
"Join me in sickbay."
The Doctor had stabilized Seven, while also accidentally stabilizing Tom. He had come to discover that they were like twins—what he did to one, happened to the other.
Sighing, he bent over the information gathered from the two's brains, not liking what he saw. He was beginning to understand how the cancer worked and the picture it left was a nasty one.
The sound of the door sliding open startled him. Although the quarantine had been lifted, most crew members were studiously avoiding sickbay. He discovered his visitors included all of the attendees of a senior officers meeting.
"What can I do for you, Captain?" He inquired, as the group approached him.
The Captain's eyes sparkled with life. "We've figured out how the cancer is spread—by blood. Tom's and Seven's blood mixed when he rescued her. Which explains the positioning of the cancer. Seven's began in her brain, so Tom has a mass in his brain. Tom's right hand was especially vulnerable when burned, plus it was the entry point for the cancer, therefore he began to grow a mass in his right arm. Somehow Seven copied it."
The Doctor felt sad. He knew his expression echoed his feelings when he received undivided attention from everyone standing near him. "I believe I have solved the mystery of why Seven and Tom echo each other." He paused, still not wanting to speak the words. "The cancer has blended their thoughts, in essence, their very minds, together. They may have two bodies but their minds are as one. Whatever effects one, effects the other. If one dies, so, in theory, will the other. We must find a cure and fast. The cancer is growing too swiftly."
Silence greeted his revelation.
Finally, B'Elanna shook herself. "Well, let's get on with it then. The sooner we start, the sooner we'll find something."
Janeway faced Tuvok. "Do you think you could risk a mindmeld without harming yourself?"
Tuvok regarded her calmly. "I can try, Captain. Where everything goes from there, only in the future will I be able to say."
"Do it but I want the Doctor near to watch your brain activity," the Captain swiveled to face the Doctor. "And if his brain begins to match Tom and Seven's, take him out of it."
"Captain," Chakotay interrupted. "I would like to stay here with the Doctor and Tuvok."
Sensing that Chakotay needed something to be absolved of in his mind, she agreed. The Doctor observed the almost mental exchange between the captain and Chakotay with interest. He had another theory about the closeness of friends and telekinesis.
The group was beginning to disperse, leaving only the Doctor, Tuvok, Chakotay, and the two people on the biobeds who breathed in unison.
Tom blinked. Where was he? It was dark here. Where was the light?
Fumbling in the dark, he eventually found the light panel. He flipped it to activate and let his eyes adjust to the scene in front of him.
He shivered, remembering. His feet carried him toward the far door at the end of the corridor. He knew what would happen, what they would say, what he would do. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to go.
Somehow, his feet kept walking.
Seven of Nine walked closer to the door, curious. This felt like a memory, yet she had no memories of this nature.
Reaching the end with shuffling steps, she noticed a guardian on either side of her as she was led into the room. Quaking with nervousness, she allowed the solemn faced men to lead her to the semi-circle of gathered admirals.
"Thomas Eugene Paris, you know the charges laid against you and that the evidence weighs against you with your testimony. How will you plead?" The burliest admiral spoke without preamble.
Seven was confused. Thomas Eugene Paris? But she was not Tom Paris, she was Annika, Seven of Nine, former drone, ex-Borg. How could she be inside Tom Paris' head and memory?
Even while she thought, she found herself replying, "Guilty on all charges." Her voice was a younger, graver Tom Paris' with no hint of the source of humor he was constantly showing on board Voyager.
"Do you have anything to say before you are sent to the penal colony?" Another admiral asked. His eyes seemed haunted, tired.
I'm sorry, Dad.
Dad? Was this Tom's father?
Again, she/Tom spoke, "I'm truly sorry for the lie and the grief that I have caused my friends' families."
"Anything else?" The first admiral inquired.
She shook her head, remaining silent. Knowing that if she expressed her true emotions, she would embarrass herself by crying.
The first admiral made a motion with his hand and Seven felt the guards twist her around. She craned her neck to watch her father but he would not meet her eyes.
What have I done?
I'm sorry, Dad.
Seven felt a lone tear slick down her cheek.
Suddenly, her vision blurred.
When her vision cleared again, Tom Paris was sitting on the floor of some sort of room that had no walls, his face in his hands, crying. Seven shook free the lingering memory and approached him, feeling ridiculously like crying herself.
Lightly, she touched his shoulder. After a moment of no response, she sat next to him, silent.
When he had control over his emotions, he spoke in a detached voice, "My father was so disappointed in me for what I had done he couldn't speak to me. Couldn't and wouldn't. I wonder how he feels now that I'm gone?"
Seven paused before answering. She could feel what Tom was feeling and knew what Tom knew. Forming her words carefully, she answered him with only, "I'm sure now he realizes how much he loves you and would gladly welcome you back."
Tom didn't answer for several minutes.
"What happened, Seven? Where are we? The last thing I remember is a jumbled mess. I wake up and just we two are here, wherever here is," he asked, turning eyes just as blue as hers to face her.
Unable to meet his probing stare, she took careful note of her surroundings. "It seems familiar to me…" She stopped. No. It could not be.
"What? What 'could not' be?" Tom demanded, even though she had not spoken those last thoughts out loud. "Seven, tell me!"
"We…are in…my mind. The place where I was forced to go to when those that I had assimilated overcame my conscious self. How we got here I can not explain," she shakily answered.
Tom paled. "Can we go back?"
Seven gazed at him for a little while. "Not without help, if I remember correctly."
"And who would that be?" Tom's voice was faint.
"Tuvok, most likely."
"Great," Tom grumbled. "We get to converse with pure logic to get out of here. It can't get worse than this."
Almost to disprove his words, a clamor began. Seven and Tom straightened quickly. A crowd of fuzzy, out-of-focus people and aliens surrounded them before they even knew what was happening.
"I feel a case of deja-vú," Seven said uneasily.
Tuvok stood beside Seven of Nine. He had had to decide which of the two to try the mindmeld on. The Doctor had suggested Seven since she had convulsed so rapidly first.
Before he could place his fingertips in the needed pattern on Seven's forehead, the Doctor yelped from where he was monitoring Seven and Tom's brain waves.
Chakotay hurried to him. "What is it?"
"Seven's brain waves are becoming erratic…Now Tom's are following as well. Something's wrong here," the Doctor bit off as he checked and rechecked his information. "You might not want to try the mindmeld."
Chakotay studied the console himself for a moment. Finally looking up, he told Tuvok, "It's up to you, Tuvok."
Tuvok nodded. "I will try," he said gravelly. He lightly brushed his fingertips against Seven's temple…
…and found himself in a mass din of noise and confusion. Pushing back feelings of I have done this before, he listened intently to a masculine cry of despair. A feminine voice shouted something but only a hoarse scream answered.
As Tuvok watched, the crowd merged and liquefied into a hungry black mass. It towered above a terrified, huddled Tom Paris, who, even as he kept his eyes riveted to the ensign, flickered like a failing hologram. When he flickered, Seven's form could briefly be seen. The black mass crested like a wave and began to topple toward Tom. The younger man emitted another hoarse scream that sounded like him and Seven together.
Seven, opposite Tom, charged at Tom, flickering like he, only opposite. She gave a long cry of challenge and tackled the mass. She splashed through it and came out of the other side, dazed.
"Seven!" Tuvok tried to gain her attention.
She picked herself up and only noticed him when he planted himself in front of her. "Seven," he repeated.
Her eyes stared at him, not seeing him; not aware.
He grabbed her shoulders to keep her from running off into the mass again. "Seven!"
Still she could not see him. Abruptly, he realized he would have to talk to both her and Tom at once to get them to hear him. He needed someone to help him round up the two crew members.
A roar drew his attention. He swiveled around to see Tom collapse, whether under mental strain or terror, he did not know. Under his hands he felt Seven buckle as well. The creature withdrew, sedated, and promptly disappeared.
Tuvok gently laid Seven down, suppressing a wince when her form changed to Tom's and back again. He needed help.
Blinking, he retreated in his mind from the jumbled mess he had discovered. Chakotay was the first person he focused on. "Commander, I need to enlist your assistance," he said.
Chakotay was caught off-guard. "Sure. What do you need?"
Tuvok allowed a small sigh to escape his calm exterior. "I need for you to help me talk to Seven and Tom Paris."
"Enter," Janeway's commanding tone came promptly from her ready room. Chakotay obeyed at once.
Janeway glanced up from her screen as she saw Chakotay glide in. "Commander, do you have a request?" She lifted an eyebrow. "Or a withdrawal?"
Chakotay shook his head in the negative. "I've made up my mind, Kathryn. I'm going to help Tuvok. Maybe then we can put more pieces of this bizarre puzzle together. I just came to ask if you had anymore questions about what Tuvok described. When we adjourned, I could see more questions in your eyes. I've got a few minutes."
Janeway sighed and stood up. "Tuvok does not lie so what he says he saw, he saw. But what no one asked was, 'What is it? Where did it come from? Is it the cancer? Has the cancer mutated? Or is it a cancer at all?'"
Chakotay nodded. He'd been thinking the same things. He sensed that Janeway needed to talk it out so he feigned ignorance and asked, "What are you saying? That it is sentient? That it might not be a 'cancer' but a form of parasite?"
Janeway smiled. "As usual, you and I think alike…" She was interrupted by her commbadge.
"Captain."
"Go ahead, Doctor," she acknowledged.
"If Chakotay is going to do this, I would like to do it now. Even as we speak, Seven and Tom's brain waves and other bodily functions are becoming meshed. I can hardly tell the difference their brains anymore. Time is of the essence," the Doctor rambled, worry evident in his voice.
"I'll be right there, Doctor," Chakotay responded. He exchanged a glance with Janeway.
She sighed again. "I'm researching all of our databanks. I'll contact you if and when I find anything. Good luck."
"And to you, Kathryn," Chakotay said as he walked out of the door.
Complete darkness. Then a brilliant white that was constant and unwavering. Somehow, Chakotay knew to go towards it, just as he knew, but could not see, that Tuvok was beside him. Not speaking, he edged closer to the white. Upon closer examination, he was startled to realize the whiteness was a door.
He swallowed and halted before it. "Is this what you saw?" He asked.
Tuvok's reply was quiet, "No."
Nervous, Chakotay still waited. "Do we knock?"
In answer, Tuvok reached out and grazed the door with his knuckles. The door slid open silently, leading into an equally white, round, empty room.
Empty except for Seven of Nine and Tom Paris. They were silent, standing at opposite sides of the room, facing each other, staring. Their eyes were vacant, as if they were merely shells and the living organism had left.
Chakotay was never one to be speechless for long. He took a tentative step toward Seven. "Seven? Tom?"
At the sound of his voice, the two turned as one to face them, their eyes still not focused. Their mouths opened and Seven began, "Commander, how…"
Tom finished, "…did you get here?"
Feeling chills run down his spine, Chakotay stopped. Tuvok almost ran into him, "Tuvok?" Chakotay murmured. "Were they like this before?"
"No, Commander, they were not. Evidently, the Doctor was correct in saying that their minds are merging," Tuvok answered.
Chakotay had thought that the Borg with their millions upon millions with one mind was spooky but seeing two of his friends and fellow senior officers echoing all movements and thoughts was unsettling.
"I walked," he finally answered Seven and Tom's question. "How…how are you feeling?" He was slightly at a loss on how to proceed.
Seven and Tom paused. When they spoke, it was mostly together, with only a small portion separated.
"I don't really know. I vaguely…"
"…remember…"
"…anything."
"Commander, what is going on? Why are…"
"…we…"
"…stuck here?"
Chakotay looked to Tuvok, plainly signaling for him to answer.
Tuvok cleared his throat. "We are not sure what is happening to you both. The Captain and the crew are all researching ways in which to help you."
Seven and Tom took a step forward. Their voices rose in pitch. "Are we dead?"
"No," Chakotay affirmed. "Just in stasis and constantly being monitored."
Tom blinked and, for a moment, a light sparkled in his eyes. Only his voice said, as only he collapsed in a dejected heap on the white floor, "I keep seeing memories…"
Chakotay noticed Seven was paused, like an image waiting to be reactivated. He rushed to Tom and knelt beside him. "Tom?"
Tom looked at him, actually looked at him. His blue eyes were full of tears. "What the Borg do…I keep seeing memories…"
Tuvok, who had reacted much quicker than Chakotay and was supporting a shaky Tom, gave the Vulcan equivalent of comfort. "The memories are not yours, Mr. Paris. Once you realize that, you will have a piece of mind."
"'Piece of mind'?" Tom laughed, an odd barking sound. He reached up to smooth his hair but stopped and watched his hands shake. "I'm losing my mind and quite literally, too. I don't know I am anymore."
Chakotay felt fearful for his friend. "You are Lieutenant Thomas Eugene Paris, son of Admiral Paris of the Starfleet Federation of Planets. You are an adventurer, an explorer, and a sure-shot, great pilot. You were Marquis and now are a respected, although somewhat unorthodox, Starfleet officer. And you are helping us to get home." He searched Tom's face to see if his words got through.
To his grave disappointment, Tom just clutched his head and screamed. The younger man's eyes began to fade as he chanted, "No! Not again! Notagainnotagainnotagainnotagainnot…"
"…again!" Seven finished.
Chakotay felt like hitting something in frustration. He knew a visit to the holodeck would be in order once he was through here.
A light hand on his shoulder startled him. He saw Seven, this time fully in charge of her thoughts. "Commander, I have no control…"
Tuvok stood, leaving the huddled, vulnerable form of Tom to Chakotay. "Seven, do you have any idea of what is going on?"
Seven staggered but somehow remained herself. "It…is a parasite. That is all I know. None of those assimilated had this creature so the Doctor's assumption in that regard is false. I…" She trailed off and her face turned blank.
Tuvok grabbed her shoulders and shook her hard. "Seven? Seven!"
Awareness returned, but only briefly. She gave them one last message, "There isn't much time. Tell the Captain to hurry…" She lapsed into silence and fell into an identical position as Tom when Tuvok released his hold on her.
Chakotay balled his hands into fists as the room dimmed and fell away. He remained in that stance even when Tuvok clasped his arm in sickbay over the two inert forms laying there.
"There is little you can do for them, Commander," Tuvok said, seeming to read his thoughts. "Anger will only cloud your mind."
Chakotay let out an angry breath. "You're right. If the Captain needs me, I'll be in holodeck two." His thoughts raced frantically but he knew he needed to sort them out one at a time. Only one thing that he knew of could effectively do that and that was where he was headed right now.
Janeway entered holodeck two to discover, to her uncomplete surprise, her first officer punching away at a hanging punch bag. She quietly walked around other immobile bags and caught the wildly swinging bag before it hit her.
"Captain!" Chakotay stopped in surprise. Sweat ran down his forehead and bare chest, dripping from his hair. "I'm sorry. I didn't see you."
Janeway smiled. "You've been in here for two hours, Chakotay. I just wanted to see how you were doing."
To her bewilderment, he grinned and plopped down on a bench, motioning for her to join him. "Actually, I have several theories dancing around in my head that I need to talk through."
"Go ahead," she offered.
He held up a finger. "One. Seven mentioned, during her lucid moment, that the 'cancer' is a parasite. I believe I now know why Seven and Tom's bodies are doing what they are and how…"
At the briefing table, Chakotay looked clean and fresh. Janeway herself had taken a couple of minutes to spruce up before gathering her senior officers. She was giddy with excitement, knowing that Chakotay's earlier revelations held solid ground and were not only plausible, but completely correct. She had cross-referenced the information in the databanks and found their answer.
She smothered a smile and gazed sternly at her officers. None of them looked like they were getting any sleep lately and she knew from asking the Doctor that all of them visited both Seven and Tom often.
"Our enemy's name is the cueproan. It is a parasite native to humid planets and can only be found in a host after digesting the source of nourishment it lives in. It is more deadly than cancer for it feeds, not off the body, but off the mind," Janeway began. She clasped her hands behind her back as she paused.
The Doctor's voice interrupted from the comm as he plugged into the databanks. "It says here that the mind that the cueproan feeds from expands into gradual nothingness, leaving the body alive but with no brain. I wonder if that also means that if more than one mind is devoured, if the expansion overlaps, then the bodies of both hosts become similar?"
Chakotay got a nod from Janeway. After all, he had provided the solution. "Actually," he said. "That is precisely the case. In the few cases known, the cueproan is spread by open wounds and only through blood—sometimes effecting dozens of people at once."
Janeway caught movement near the end of the table. She raised an eyebrow. "Harry? Do you have something?"
Ensign Kim looked nervous. "I…ah…just wanted to know if the process has ever been reversed."
Chakotay swallowed, keeping his face void of any emotion. "Not in the logs."
"Are they stuck like that?" Torres said hotly. She pounded her fist on the black tabletop. "Will they ever be separated?"
Janeway felt ire growing beneath her excitement. "B'Elanna, I appreciate your concern but…"
Over the comlink, in the background, Janeway could vaguely hear the sound of screaming.
"Captain, I suggest you come to sickbay quickly. And bring help," the Doctor's abbreviated explanation cut off.
Janeway immediately took action. "Those who wish to, follow me," she barked, heading for sickbay at a dead run. She didn't know exactly what was happening but a knot forming in her stomach told her that Seven and Tom had entered into the next stage of the cueproan.
When Janeway burst into the sickbay, the scene that greeted her was worse than she feared. Seven, under the hold of the biobed, was emitting one long wail, crying and arching her back as if in great pain.
But, surprisingly, that was not where the Doctor was. He was frantically trying to restablilize a rapidly failing Tom Paris. Alarms ringed as one after another of Tom's organs quit.
"Tom!" B'Elanna shouted and ran to the Doctor's side.
She shouldn't be here to witness this, Janeway thought as she herself raced to the Doctor. He injected a hypospray into Tom as she approached.
He glanced up, a stricken expression on his face. "Nothing is working. Nothing has an effect. I don't understand," he yelled over the sound of Seven's scream.
Tom's eyelids flipped open and he focused on B'Elanna for a moment. His lips moved and B'Elanna strained to hear, bending down.
"Not…like…this…" Tom forced himself to say. The Doctor, finally realizing there was nothing he could do, stopped his administrations to listen as well.
"Don't…want…to go out…like…this…" Tom coughed. "Not…dead…" Then he slowly slumped onto the biobed, his body relaxing, his eyes vacant. The alarms went silent.
B'Elanna let out a Klingon lament that blended and merged with Seven's own cries.
Janeway had never heard a more lonesome sound.