Lead Me Through the Fire
Part Two
Captain's personal log, Stardate 56320.6. Eight years ago today, I made the fateful decision that stranded Voyager in the Delta Quadrant. It seems like only yesterday that I said goodbye to Mark for the last time... I never imagined that hasty conversation would be our last for so many years. And yet, I feel as though I've been with this crew, this family, for far longer than eight years. Looking back, it's hard to believe how far we've come from the divided groups that were thrown together against our will... if someone had told me then how close this crew would become, I don't think I would have believed them.
Captain Janeway sat alone in her dark quarters, staring out the window without seeing. The anniversary of Voyager's arrival in the Delta Quadrant was always a difficult time. Another year spent separated from their homes and families. Another year she had failed to find them a way home. Another year filled with loss.
For several years now, she and Chakotay had marked the occasion by having dinner together. He always managed to make her focus on their triumphs, rather than the people who were no longer with them or the fact that they had spent another year stranded half a galaxy away from home.
She assumed he had plans with Seven this year. He hadn't mentioned the anniversary, and she hadn't wanted to bring it up.
Sitting alone in the dark wasn't making it easy to find something to celebrate. She could feel the familiar pangs of guilt starting to grip the edges of her consciousness like icy tentacles. She squeezed her eyes shut, attempting to will them away, but the twisting feeling in the pit of her stomach grew more intense.
Faces drifted into her thoughts. Ensign Hogan. Lieutenant Stadi. Ensign Jetal. Lieutenant Durst. Ensign Bennet. Commander Cavit. Crewman Suder. Crewman Bendera. Ensign Kaplan. Lieutenant Carey.
She knew she had done the right thing eight years ago, even if it had stranded her crew seventy thousand light-years from home. If she had to do it again, she would. In a heartbeat.
But that didn't make it any easier to live with herself.
.....
The Delta Flyer moved smoothly past a field of unfamiliar stars. A large purple-tinged nebula loomed in the distance, growing larger as the ship approached.
Seated at the science station, Naomi Wildman confidently entered a series of commands on the console before her. She smiled to herself as she remembered the first time Seven had let her experiment with the controls -- she had been petrified of pushing a wrong button and engaging the self-destruct or firing a torpedo. Years of practice and lessons in ship operations had given her more confidence. This time the result of her entered commands was a schematic and compositional analysis of the nebula they were about to survey.
Seven, standing slightly behind her, nodded her approval. "The captain also requested that we scan for omicron particles."
Naomi considered for a moment. "Omicron particles are... in the theta band."
"Correct."
This time when Naomi's fingers touched the first key, two alarms went off simultaneously. It took her a few seconds to realize that her childhood nightmare had not come to life but that the tactical station and the helm were the sources of the noise.
"What is it?" she demanded, her voice higher than normal as she turned to face the rest of the crew.
"We've got company," said Tom at the helm.
At Seven's indication, Naomi quickly surrendered the science station and stood in the middle of the cabin watching the others swing into action. They seemed to forget that she was even there.
"Raising shields," said Tom. "Evasive maneuvers."
"Phasers and photon torpedoes are powered and ready," said Tuvok at the tactical station.
"If we could reach the nebula," suggested Seven, "it may interfere with their sensors."
"Hold on."
Naomi instinctively grabbed onto the back of Seven's chair, her slender fingers digging into the material as the Flyer banked in a steep turn.
Several tense seconds passed as the small ship drew closer to the refuge.
"They will overtake us before we reach the nebula," observed Seven.
"This ship was built for speed," muttered Tom under his breath. "I'll be damned if she's gonna be outrun. Seven, reroute auxiliary power to the impulse engines."
The Flyer accelerated gently, the engines humming as the ship strained towards the looming nebula.
"Still insufficient," said Seven.
"What's happening?" asked Naomi. "Who's chasing us?"
"Go down to the cargo bay," Seven ordered in response.
"Why?"
Before Seven could answer, she was interrupted by Tuvok. "They are firing."
Naomi reached again for the support of Seven's chair. A split second later, the Flyer shuddered violently under the impact of what she guessed was a large yield torpedo.
The first blast was followed by two more in quick succession before she had a chance to catch her breath from the first concussion. The last torpedo struck the shields just above one of the Flyer's fins, throwing the ship off kilter. The jolt provided her with a sudden view of what was unmistakably the corner of a familiar cubical vessel.
"The Borg," she heard herself whisper hoarsely.
Seven turned to her with an expression that was deadly serious. "Naomi! The cargo bay! NOW!"
"Shields at forty-seven percent," reported Tuvok.
Sirens were blaring inside the shuttle now as the computer calmly recited the list of systems that were offline. Another torpedo punched into the weakened shields and the bulkheads reverberated under the blow. Naomi lost her balance and fell to the floor as it lurched under her.
"Forward shields have failed," said Tuvok. "Aft shields are at twenty-three percent."
The Delta Flyer jolted again and the interior of the ship was doused in an eerie green glow.
"The cube has locked onto us with a tractor beam," said Seven, tension in her normally detached voice.
The Borg cube was directly in front of them now, drawing inexorably closer to the immobilized shuttle. Naomi scrambled to her feet and ran.
.....
At the mental apex of the Borg Collective, the Borg Queen smiled in satisfaction as she watched the cube reel in the small Federation shuttle.
Find the information we need. Then assimilate them all.
.....
Naomi considered herself fortunate that she and Mezoti had once snuck on board the Delta Flyer to play a game of hide-and-seek that had gone on for nearly an hour before they had been discovered by a very annoyed Seven. Because of this, she didn't even have to think as she flew down the steps to the cargo bay and headed straight for the cupboard that housed the environmental suits. Her hands clammy and trembling, she fumbled at the catch on the door several times before it cooperated. She yanked the door open roughly and quickly scrambled inside, pulling the door shut behind her.
It was pitch-black. The only light came from a miniscule seam around the door, and even that took several seconds to become visible.
She could hear her heart pounding against her ribs over the sound of her ragged breathing. Clutching her knees to her chest to try and stop her shaking, she sat on the floor of the cupboard and she waited.
.....
Captain Janeway strode out of the turbolift, Chakotay half a step behind her. "Report," she ordered tersely.
Harry rose from the captain's chair and turned to meet them. "We just picked up a distress signal from the Delta Flyer."
The captain's expression darkened and she could sense Chakotay tense behind her. "Let's hear it," she said with a nod.
The transmission was distorted and all they could make out was garbled static. A single syllable came through: Borg.
"Where are they?" she demanded.
"Two light-years from here. Near a J-class nebula."
"Two light-years?" said Chakotay. "Even at maximum warp...."
"...that's still nearly eight hours away," finished the captain grimly. She turned to the helm. "Ensign, set a course, maximum warp."
"Aye, Captain."
.....
Naomi's head jerked up from its resting place on her knees. She held her breath and listened.
Phaser fire.
Shouting. Was that Tom?
The distorted tones of a Borg drone.
A loud thump. Someone hitting the ground. She squeezed her eyes shut in the dark and hoped that it was a Borg drone.
Another bout of phaser fire.
The Borg monotone again.
A scream. Her eyes shot open and she turned her head in the direction of the main cabin even though she couldn't see beyond the dark confines of her hiding place. Was that Seven?
Silence.
She waited. She didn't know how long; it could have been minutes or hours. After a while, the self-control she had imposed to be able to hear what was happening above began to ebb and she started crying softly. She could feel the tears running down her cheeks.
Why hadn't anyone come to tell her it was all right? That the Borg were gone?
What if they had all been assimilated? She let out a choked sob.
A feeling of bitter shame crept over her. For crying. For hiding. For running away.
She wiped the tears off her cheeks and took a slow deep breath before reaching for the door.
Just as her fingers brushed the handle, it moved of its own accord.
She felt a wave of relief pass over her. It's okay. Everything is all right.
The door swung open, flooding her hiding place with bright light.
She squinted against the glare. When her eyes adjusted, she found herself face to face with a Borg drone.
And she screamed.
.....
Captain's Log, Stardate 56491.3. We've been following the ion trail of the Borg cube that presumably attacked the Delta Flyer for five hours now and have finally caught up with them. I've concealed Voyager in the gravity distortions of a pulsar while we assess the situation.
Captain Janeway narrowed her eyes as she scrutinized the menacing image of a Borg cube on the viewscreen. "Any sign of the Delta Flyer?"
"I'm having trouble penetrating the Borg shields," responded Harry.
"What about life signs?" asked Chakotay.
"It's impossible to tell at this distance."
"If they've had the Delta Flyer for twelve hours," mused the captain, "chances are it's deep inside the cube by now. We need to be able to find our people and get them out fast." She looked around the bridge. "Suggestions?"
Icheb was the first to speak after a long pause. "A tetryon pulse."
He shifted on his feet nervously when he immediately had the attention of the entire bridge crew, but quickly gathered his wits. "If we program a torpedo to emit a highly concentrated tetryon pulse when it hits the Borg shields, it should overload their shield grid and disrupt it enough to allow our sensors and a transporter beam to penetrate inside the cube."
"The effect would only be temporary," warned Harry.
"How long?" asked the captain.
"Fifteen seconds. Maybe twenty before they adapt."
She turned to her chief engineer. "B'Elanna?"
"Find the away team, the Flyer, and beam them to Voyager in fifteen seconds or less? It'll be tight, but I can do it."
"The cube will still have power to their other systems," Icheb reminded them.
"So we'll have to be dodging weapons fire while we try and get the away team out," said Harry.
The captain nodded. "Chakotay, take the helm. Try and keep us out of trouble long enough for us to get our people out. How long do you need to modify the torpedo?"
"Half an hour," said B'Elanna.
"You have twenty minutes, then we'll break cover and head straight for the cube. Once the torpedo has been deployed, B'Elanna, start scanning for the Delta Flyer and beam it back to the cargo bay as soon as we're in transporter range. Harry, you'll have to find our people and get all of them back to Voyager before our window closes." She turned back to the image of the Borg cube on the viewscreen. "We're not leaving anyone behind, and we won't get a second chance at this."
.....
The tension on the bridge mounted as Voyager moved farther away from the cover of the pulsar's gravity, drawing steadily closer to the Borg cube ahead.
"Fifty thousand kilometers and closing," reported Chakotay from the helm.
"Have they detected us?" asked the captain over her shoulder in the direction of Ops.
"If they have, they're not doing anything about it," said Harry.
"Thirty thousand kilometers," said Chakotay.
"Power weapons. Load the torpedo."
"Phasers and photon torpedoes ready," replied Lieutenant Ayala from Tactical.
"The tachyon torpedo is armed," added Harry.
"Fifteen thousand kilometers," said Chakotay.
"The cube's powering weapons!" snapped Ayala. "They're firing."
The bridge shuddered under their feet at the impact of the torpedo.
"Ten."
"Wait..."
"Eight."
"Wait..."
"Six... five..."
"Now, Harry!"
A torpedo shot from Voyager's underbelly and sailed towards the Borg cube. It struck the shields and sent shockwaves of green outward from its point of impact. The shields began to flicker and spark.
"It worked!" exclaimed Harry. "Their shields are fluctuating!"
The seconds ticked by, punctuated by the thud of Borg weapons fire.
Engineering to Bridge, came B'Elanna's voice at last, breaking the heavy silence. I've got a lock on them. They're still inside the Flyer.
"Beam them directly to Sickbay and transport the Flyer to the shuttle bay."
Energizing... Several tense seconds passed before her voice returned. I've got them, Captain.
"Good work. Chakotay, get us out of here."
"Gladly," he muttered, banking Voyager into a steep turn. As he pulled out and away from the cube, the nacelles angled into their warp position and the ship jumped past the speed of light in the blink of an eye.
"Lieutenant, make sure we're not being followed," she addressed Ayala at Tactical.
"Yes, ma'am."
She nodded at one of the other officers on the bridge. "Ensign, take the helm."
Chakotay didn't need to be told why she was relieving him. He shadowed her to the turbolift as she informed Harry that she would be in Sickbay.
.....
Neither were prepared for the chilling scene that awaited them.
Barely restrained horror was reflected in Captain Janeway's gaze as her eyes moved over the four members of the away team.
Tom's head was rolled to the side, one arm draped over his waist and the other at his side. A mark from a Borg phaser blast was discernible just below the neckline of the aqua gown. His face was startlingly pale, the translucent skin contrasting with the cold grey of a sun-shaped Borg element that had asserted itself on his cheek.
The captain's gaze turned to the still form of her oldest confidante. Tuvok's normally dark skin had a sickly grey tinge to it, mottled by the nanoprobes swarming under the surface. It was strange, seeing the normally strong and stoic Vulcan incapacitated by such small things.
Seven showed no outward signs of assimilation, but the skin on her face was oddly translucent and there were striking dark circles under her eyes as though she had been several days without sleep.
Her eyes drifted to the small figure in the bed next to Seven. Two puncture marks were visible on Naomi's slender neck, swollen like insect bites. The skin around the perforations was tinged a sickly blue color and engorged blue veins spread like a deadly spider web outwards from the apertures, encompassing what was visible of her shoulder as well as one side of her face, marring her delicate features. The skin on the back of one hand had split open, revealing a cybernetic endoderm under the surface.
Still reeling, Captain Janeway turned to the Doctor. "Will they recover?" she asked, her voice a hoarse whisper.
The EMH nodded, his expression solemn. "Eventually. I managed to extract most of the nanoprobes and reverse the tissue necrosis. We're fortunate the Borg didn't get any further in the assimilation process."
"Yes," she echoed. Her eyes rested on Samantha Wildman, sitting next to her daughter, stroking her hair and holding her undamaged hand.
"Lieutenant Paris had the most progressive damage, so I suspect that he was attacked first. Commander Tuvok was fortunate to escape more severe neurological effects, considering."
Janeway frowned. "Considering what?"
The EMH seemed startled for a fraction of a second before he recovered. "Considering that this is not the first time he has been assimilated."
"Of course." She turned her attention to the fourth Sickbay occupant. Chakotay was sitting dutifully next to the bed, watching Seven as if she might stop breathing if he looked away. "And Seven?"
"She doesn't appear to have been the victim of assimilation, or reassimilation as it were, but something has severely disrupted her synaptic pathways."
"Can you determine the cause?"
"Not until I study my scans further."
"But there won't be any permanent damage?"
"It's being repaired as we speak. She'll be fully conscious in a few days."
"Good. Maybe she can tell us what the Borg were after."
"After?" repeated the Doctor. "You don't think this was a random attack?"
"This was a calculated assault. They left the crew on board the Delta Flyer for over twelve hours, so they obviously weren't in a hurry to assimilate them. If they had wanted the technology from the Delta Flyer, it would have been dismantled within hours. No... they wanted something. Something specific."
.....
"They wanted me."
Captain Janeway's expression was concerned as she scrutinized Seven, standing opposite her in the ready room. "You?" she repeated.
"The reason the Borg sought out the Delta Flyer was because they were looking for me," she elaborated.
"You can't be sure of that. This wasn't your fault, Seven."
"They were looking for me," Seven insisted.
"Why now? What do they want?"
"Information," said Seven. "After the others were incapacitated, one of the drones... probed me." Captain Janeway was unable to conceal her revulsion at the thought as she continued. "He gained access to my nervous system using his assimilation tubules and attempted to access my thoughts and memories. He was searching for information."
"That would explain the severe disruptions to your synaptic pathways that the doctor mentioned. Do you know what they were looking for?"
"No."
"Did they find it?"
Seven looked at her, uneasiness reflected in her blue eyes. "I don't know. But if they failed... they will undoubtedly try again."
.....
The Borg Queen let loose her frustration in a single flick of her mind. She felt it ripple through the minds in the Collective, dissipating and being absorbed by the countless drones connected to her. The emotions rippled back and forth until they were no longer discernible.
Calm permeated their consciousness once more. And the minds began to work as one. Alternatives. Strategies. Plans.
They would get what they were looking for. The threat would be vanquished.
.....
Naomi Wildman fingered the PADD in her hands nervously as stood outside the doors of the captain's ready room. She could feel the sympathetic eyes of the bridge crew on her; she had been living with that ever since the away mission.
The doors finally slid open and she stepped inside. Captain Janeway was seated at her desk with a cup of coffee. Her eyebrows raised slightly when she saw the identity of her caller. "Naomi. What can I do for you?"
Naomi stepped forward and handed her the PADD she was carrying. "I came to give you this. It's my report on the attack on the Delta Flyer."
The captain accepted the PADD without taking her eyes off the young girl. "Did someone tell you to write a report?"
Naomi squared her shoulders. "No, ma'am. But I overheard some of the crew talking... they said the Borg were after Seven."
"We think so, yes."
"I want to help. I thought if I wrote a report..." She trailed off. Her reasoning had sounded much better in her quarters.
But the captain smiled. "That's officer level thinking, Miss Wildman."
"Thank you, ma'am." She glanced down at the floor and bit her lip. "Captain Janeway? Are the Borg trying to reassimilate Seven? Do they want her back?"
She set down Naomi's report and clasped her hands on the desk in front of her. "I don't know," she admitted. "But... I think if they had wanted to reassimilate Seven, they would have. But they left her, and the rest of you, on the Delta Flyer. I think that means they were after something else."
"Like what?"
"I don't know." She could see Naomi was not reassured. Her skin still retained a pallor from her assimilation, and there was a scar below her jaw line that the doctor hadn't removed yet, the only outward sign of her experience. She was sure the emotional scars would take much longer to heal. "How are you doing?" she asked gently.
"I'm fine, Captain."
She smiled sadly. "I meant really, how are you doing. I was assimilated once too, in a manner of speaking."
Naomi stiffened. "On purpose," she said quietly.
"I'm sorry?"
"You were assimilated on purpose. It was your choice. And you were still... you."
Janeway was taken aback. "That's true," she said quietly.
Naomi shifted uncomfortably, looking down at her feet.
"Do you have someone to talk to?" asked the captain finally.
"I... I talk to Icheb. I can't talk to my mom... she's asked me too, but I don't want to upset her. Icheb... he understands what I went through."
"Are you having nightmares?"
Naomi nodded.
She smiled sympathetically. "They'll go away, in time."
Naomi squeezed her eyes shut but despite her efforts tears began to run down her cheeks. The captain was nearly moved to tears as well at the sight of so much pain on someone so young. She rose and moved around her desk to stand in front of Naomi, resting a hand on her shoulder. "You've been through a traumatic experience... one nobody should ever have to go through, far less someone your age."
Naomi nodded and wiped her tears away, bravely meeting the captain's pitying gaze. The expression made her look older.
"Your mother," she continued, "has requested that you not go on any more away missions. But if you want me to, I can talk to her and try to change her mind."
Naomi considered this. "I don't know," she said finally.
"That's all right." She smiled. "My door is always open, if you want to talk."
"Thank you, Captain."
Naomi turned as if to leave, but paused and turned back. "Captain?"
"Yes?"
She hesitated. "Before... before you read my report...."
The captain encouraged her with a nod and squeezed her shoulder.
"I ran," she whispered. The words tumbled out now, and tears ran down her cheeks again. "I'm sorry, but I was scared. I know I should have stayed, and helped, but...."
The captain wrapped her arms around Naomi's slim frame and pressed her close as if she could absorb the young girl's pain and suffering.
"I'm sorry," she sobbed, her words muffled by the captain's shoulder.
The captain gently pulled away, her hands still resting on Naomi's shoulders. "Naomi, listen to me. You did the right thing."
Naomi's expression was doubtful. "What about the three rules?"
"What rules?"
"The three rules about being a Starfleet captain. Keep your shirt tucked in, go down with your ship... and never abandon a member of your crew." Captain Janeway smiled at the recollection. "You told me those rules when I was younger, and I've never forgotten them."
"You're not a Starfleet captain, Naomi. You may be one someday, but here's another piece of advice: don't take that responsibility on yourself before you have to. It's not something I would wish on anyone else, in our situation."
It had never occurred to Naomi that there could be drawbacks to the four pips that adorned Janeway's collar. "Do you ever wish that someone else had been given command of Voyager? That you were back in the Alpha Quadrant?"
"Do you ever wish you had been born in the Alpha quadrant, instead of on a starship?"
Naomi smiled through her tears. "Never."
The smile was reflected in the captain's expression. "Me neither."
.....
The transmission was full of static, but the familiar smile on Neelix's face was still visible and Seven of Nine smiled back.
"Seven!" the Talaxian greeted her. "This is a pleasant surprise! I wasn't expecting to hear from you anytime soon." His demeanor softened. "I understand you had a rather unpleasant encounter."
"The Borg," she acknowledged. "I'm fine."
"I've never known anyone to have a run in with the Borg and be fine."
"I'm unharmed," she clarified.
"That's a relief. What about Naomi? The message didn't say much except that she was involved."
"Her physical wounds will heal, but I suspect this experience will affect her profoundly for a long time."
"She's young to have to deal with something like that. So were you, for that matter."
Seven nodded. "I'm afraid I have more bad news to relate. Voyager will move out of comm range of New Talax within 48 hours."
Neelix's expression grew even more despondent. "We won't be able to stay in contact?"
"We will still be able to send subspace messages, but they will take several months in each direction."
"Well... we did know this would happen eventually."
"Harry and I are attempting to modify Voyager's communications array," Seven continued when she saw Neelix's dampened spirits. "It is possible that we will eventually be able to restore visual contact."
"If anyone can do it, I'm sure you and Harry can."
Seven smiled. "I appreciate your confidence."
"You've earned it." Neelix paused, thoughtful. "Seven, if we're going to lose our commlink, I think I should --"
"I have already informed the senior staff, and Naomi as well. They should be here shortly."
"Thank you."
"I... wanted to share something with you before the others arrived."
"Oh?"
Her lips curved into a shy smile. "I wanted to inform you first, since you encouraged me to proceed."
"Proceed in what?"
"In my relationship with Chakotay." Her smile widened. "He proposed, and I accepted."
"Proposed?" It took a few seconds before the Talaxian's confused expression evaporated into a beaming smile. "Marriage? Seven, that's wonderful! Congratulations!"
"Thank you."
"Does the rest of the crew know?"
"Not yet. Chakotay asked me to wait a few days before we informed them. He said he had something to take care of first."
.....
Captain Janeway rubbed the side of her forehead absentmindedly as the turbolift gently descended. "I still can't believe this might be the last time we ever talk to him."
"He's been a part of our lives for almost nine years now," replied Chakotay.
"It was a difficult enough adjustment when he left Voyager," she continued, "but at least we still had contact with him. And poor Naomi Wildman... he's probably the closest thing she's ever had to a father. And I'm sure she could use one right now."
"I'm sure she'll miss Neelix, but she's got a lot of people that care about her."
The turbolift stopped and the doors opened. Captain Janeway led the way down the corridor.
"Before I forget," said Chakotay as they neared Astrometrics, "do you have plans for dinner tonight?"
"I'm sure my replicator will get over its disappointment at being stood up. What did you have in mind?"
"Dinner in my quarters?"
"Sounds delightful. What's the occasion?"
"No occasion, but I do want to talk to you about something."
Before she had a chance to question him further, they had reached Astrometrics. The doors slid open and they saw Seven already talking to Neelix.
"Captain! Commander!" he said jovially as they entered his field of vision.
"It's good to see you, Neelix."
"How's Dexa?" asked Chakotay.
"She and Brax are doing great. They said to say hello."
"Tell them the crew sends their best wishes. If they could, I expect every one of them would want to be here to say goodbye, Neelix. You've meant a lot to this crew."
"Thank you, Captain. But don't think of it as goodbye... just a 'see you later.'" He smiled. "I'm sure Seven and Harry will have the communications array improved before you've even noticed I'm gone. But just in case... I wish you a safe journey. I know you'll make it home."
The captain felt her throat tighten. "You can count on it, Neelix."
.....
Captain Janeway stared across the table at her First Officer, her lips parted slightly in an expression of shock that she was unable to disguise. "I... I don't know what to say," she said slowly, setting down the wine glass that had been suspended halfway between the table and her lips.
Chakotay smiled, but his expression was tense as he evaluated her reaction. "You could say congratulations."
"Of course, I'm happy for you. I'm just... it's unexpected."
"Seven and I have been dating for almost two years now. And when I came so close to losing her... it just felt right."
"I... I guess I just never pictured Seven settling down."
"We're very happy."
"Yes, I can tell." She reached across the table and rested her hand on top of his. "Congratulations, Chakotay."
The tension is his face relaxed slightly. "Then we have your blessing?"
"Do you need it?"
"No... but I'd like to have it. I value your opinion, Kathryn."
"You have it."
He squeezed her hand. "Thank you."
.....
The rest of their meal passed in a blur. Kathryn's mind was still spinning as she entered her quarters and immediately sunk into her favorite chair. She couldn't understand why this seemed so unreal to her. Although for nine years she had denied any possibility of a relationship with Chakotay, she had never really considered that he might move on. Even his relationship with Seven had never seemed substantial for some reason.
She knew it was selfish, but she had always felt that she and Chakotay shared a special bond, separate from the rest of the crew. The others were free to move on, free to make new lives on Voyager, as Tom and B'Elanna had. But not her... she had responsibilities, responsibilities that kept her isolated. She was the captain; romantic involvements just didn't enter into her job description. But Chakotay had always been there with her, always supported her, always stood by her side.
And now he was making a life of his own. He had someone else to stand by.
Somehow, she felt betrayed. She knew it wasn't fair. Chakotay deserved every happiness he could find... but that thought didn't make her feelings of loss and abandonment go away.
She had never seen him look so happy. And she had never felt quite so alone in all her life.
.....
Captain Janeway strode into Astrometrics, still smoothing the wrinkles out of the uniform she had hastily put on after being woken by the summons. Icheb, Harry and Seven stopped what they were doing as she entered.
"What is it?"
"Our long range scans have picked up something," said Harry.
She joined them at the console facing the screen and nodded. The display resolved into the sector Voyager was traveling through. The view pulled back, farther and farther, until there were too many stars to count and the ship was a pinprick. Then Harry touched a button and green flooded the display. The color reflected in the captain's eyes as she inhaled sharply and muttered under her breath the two words she had hoped never to have to utter again.
"Borg space."
.....
B'Elanna looked around the table incredulously. "Please tell me this is a joke."
"I'm afraid not," replied Seven.
"I don't understand," said Tom. "I thought we were past Borg space."
"So did I," said Seven. "I have no knowledge of any Borg inhabitation of this part of the Delta Quadrant. Neither does Icheb."
"Could these be drones from Unimatrix Zero?" asked the Doctor.
"No. The sensor readings are consistent with completely assimilated drones belonging to the Collective."
"How there could be an area of Borg space this vast that Seven and Icheb weren't aware of?" asked Chakotay.
"The Borg could easily overtake a region of space of this size in under four years," replied Seven.
"But why?" asked Harry. "Until now, we've never seen them colonize another area of space of this magnitude before."
"Until we have more data," said Seven, "we shouldn't waste our time with idle speculation." The ex-drone swiveled her chair to face one of the display screens on the wall, which now showed a scan of the Borg-occupied region of space. "Our scans show that we will cross the border of the Borg space approximately six weeks from now. They currently occupy at least seven hundred solar systems, and appear to be expanding."
"How long will it take us to go around?" asked Tom.
Captain Janeway clasped her hands and leaned forward with her elbows on the table. "We're not going around."
An ominous silence fell around the table.
"Excuse me?" demanded B'Elanna after a few seconds.
"We're not going around," repeated the captain. "It could take as many as ten years and I refuse to give the Borg that satisfaction. We're going through."
"But --" began Tom.
"That's an order, Mr. Paris." If the dissention amongst her staff disconcerted her, she didn't show it as she rose and began circling the table slowly. "Tuvok, Harry -- I want a detailed analysis of our tactical systems and how they could be upgraded or modified to fight the Borg. They've doubtless adapted to our usual bag of tricks, so we'll be needing some new ones. B'Elanna, same goes for Engineering -- every ounce of power you can get out of the engines will be critical. The faster we can cross this expanse, the better. Doctor, I want you to focus on trying to fight the Borg on their own terms, using modified nanoprobes."
"Do you mean some sort of biological weapon?"
"Some way we can defend ourselves if we need to. Seven, Icheb -- your knowledge of the Borg will be invaluable. Give Tuvok, Harry, and the Doctor all the assistance you can, but I want to know as much as possible about this region of space before we enter it so continue your scans in Astrometrics. Chakotay, I want all nonessential personnel reassigned and everyone pulling double shifts until further notice." Reaching the head of the table, she stopped and met each of their gazes in turn. "I have full confidence that each and every one of you will give me your best. I've come to expect nothing less. Dismissed."
The senior staff rose from their seats with obvious reluctance and slowly filed out of the room one by one until only Chakotay remained. The captain showed little surprise when she looked up and saw him standing halfway across the room, scrutinizing her.
"Did you have something to add, Commander?"
He frowned at her tone. "Have you consulted Starfleet about this? I find it hard to believe they would approve of you taking us through Borg territory."
"You're right, they wouldn't."
"So you haven't told them."
"They wouldn't understand. They're not out here."
"No, they're not. But you and I are, and we've been at this crossroads before."
"Yes, we have."
"The difference is, last time you consulted me before you made a decision."
"Last time, it wasn't an easy decision."
"I see."
"It's already taken us ten years to get this far, Chakotay. I'm not going to add another ten just because the Borg have acquired some new real estate."
"It's not that simple and you know it. We have no idea how what we could be facing. Holding our course could mean suicide."
She stiffened. "We've dealt with the Borg before."
"A few cubes here and there," he agreed. "And we rescued Seven from Unimatrix One... but this is different. This isn't a stealth raid with a small vessel, or a skirmish where we could retreat if things didn't go our way." He paused. "When we encountered that nebula filled with Borg cubes, you said it was too big of a risk to take. How is this any different?"
"We would have been up against dozens, hundreds of cubes at a time," she returned. "That's different."
"We could very well get into a predicament like that crossing Borg space and you know it, Kathryn. It could take years to cross this expanse. Are you prepared to put the crew through that?" He took a step towards her and lowered his voice. "Are you prepared to put yourself through that?"
"I didn't say it would be easy, Chakotay."
"No, you didn't. You didn't say much of anything -- you just decided that we were doing this."
"I'm the captain. That's my job."
"To make decisions in the best interests of your crew, I agree."
Her eyes flashed. "If you have something to say, Commander, I suggest you say it."
He took another step towards her. "I think you're letting your vendetta against the Borg and your guilt over our being out here in the first place get the better of you."
"You think we should just give up? Let the Borg chase us around the quadrant?"
"I think you should at least consider options other than taking us right through the heart of Borg territory!"
She looked at him for several seconds. When she spoke, her voice was unnervingly calm. "I've considered our options. And I've made my decision."
He took a deep breath and looked around the room before turning back to her, his expression softened. He reached forward to touch her arm. "Kathryn --"
She pulled her arm away. "Dismissed," she said, her voice cold and emotionless.
She took her seat at the head of the table and turned her attention to a PADD in front of her. He waited for a few moments, but when she continued to ignore him, he took a deep breath and started to leave. When he reached the door, he paused and turned around. "It's dangerous, Kathryn."
She set down the PADD and looked up at him. "I'm aware of the risks."
"I'm sure you are. Maybe you should ask yourself if you're prepared for the consequences."
With that, he turned and left the conference room, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
.....
"Structure. Logic. Function. Control. Structure cannot stand without a foundation." Tuvok reached forward and placed a trapezoidal block on his growing Kathira. "Logic is the foundation of function." He added another block. "Function is the essence of control." And another. "I am in control. I am in con--"
He winced as the chime to his quarters sounded. He took a deep breath and reached for another block. "Structure. Logic. Function. Control. Structure cannot stand without --"
The chime sounded again. "Enter," he said tersely, setting down the block in his hand.
The doors slid open and Captain Janeway stepped in. "I'm sorry," she said when she saw him sitting in front of the Kathira. "I didn't mean to interrupt your meditation. I can come back later, if you'd like."
He rose, pulling his meditation robes towards him to avoid upsetting the half-completed structure. "Not at all, Captain." He motioned for her to sit as he made his way towards the replicator. "May I assume you are troubled by our current situation?"
She smiled slightly to herself. "You may."
"Vulcan spice tea, hot," he ordered.
She massaged her temple with one hand. "I keep expecting to wake up and find that all this was just a really bad dream. I wasn't prepared to face this hurdle again after so many years." She took the tea from him as he sat across from her. "Thank you."
"I must admit that I am surprised at your visit, Captain. I might have expected you to seek my counsel before making a decision, not afterwards."
She sighed. "You're not the first one to disagree with me, and I doubt you'll be the last."
"I did not say I disagreed with you. I merely noted that it is unlike you to question yourself after you have chosen a course of action."
"I guess I just wanted to hear someone say I had chosen the right course of action."
"That is also unlike you."
"I know," she said with a hint of a smile. "That's why it's bothering me." She sighed. "I'm responsible for our being out here... and I'm wondering if that's making me turn away from the safer path in the hopes of reaching the Alpha Quadrant sooner."
"To ease your guilt."
"Yes."
"I have never known you to attempt to relieve your own guilt at the expense of others, Captain. I do not believe you are capable of it."
"Not consciously, perhaps."
"In either case, your logic is flawed."
"Oh?"
"You are assuming that avoiding Borg space is a safer course of action. It would be illogical to base your decision on the consequences of encountering the Borg when we do not know what the consequences of not encountering the Borg could be."
She frowned. "I don't understand."
"Your argument is that circumventing Borg space would be safer, but you have no basis for this claim. Even the more dangerous path may lead to events which will benefit the crew."
"Such as when we encountered the Borg the first time."
"Precisely. Voyager was endangered, but it led to our rescue of Seven of Nine, which has in turn saved us on numerous occasions. Our encounters with the Borg have also forced us to develop new tactical systems which have benefited us in other situations. There is no guarantee that there would not be catastrophic events along a supposedly safer path. A Vulcan philosopher once said, 'You cannot know the path you walk until it lies behind you.'"
"Hindsight is twenty-twenty," said Janeway. "A human philosophy," she added when she saw Tuvok's raised eyebrow.
"Indeed. Each choice will have its consequences and rewards, some of which we will not be able to anticipate until they are already in motion. My Kathira, for example." He examined the symmetrical half-built structure. "Each block that I place influences how the structure will form, but I will not understand that influence until the Kathira is complete."
She sighed. "This isn't very helpful, Tuvok."
"My point was merely that your assumption that Voyager will be 'safe' if we avoid Borg territory is flawed. In this situation, I believe another human philosophy may be the most appropriate."
"And what human philosophy would that be?"
"Trusting your instinct."
"I never thought I would hear a Vulcan recommend following an instinct."
"It is a quality often overlooked and superseded by logic, yet one which can possess a logic of its own. I have also come to appreciate your instincts, Captain, as they more often than not prove to be accurate."
She leaned forward and affectionately patted him on the arm. "You know, Tuvok, even after all these years, every once in a while you can still surprise me."
His only reply was a raised eyebrow as she rose to leave. He accompanied her to the door.
"Thank you for the advice," she said as he paused in the doorway.
"You are welcome, Captain."
When the doors hissed shut behind her, he turned back to the peaceful solitude of his quarters and resumed his position in front of the Kathira. The focus which it had taken him several hours to achieve had been severely disrupted by the interruption. He slowly picked up another block and moved to place it. "Structure. Function. Logic. Control. Structure cannot stand without a foundation...."