p a r t t h r e e

By the time I arrive at the Bridge, my idea is fully fledged, and I make a beeline for my Ops officer.

"Harry, we passed a Borg debris field six or seven days ago just outside the Yontasa Expanse." He looks at me, his open face showing his thoughts. I ignore it for the moment, and give the order. "See if you can find it on long range sensors."

"Yes, ma'am." It's not crunch time- yet- but I let it go.

Chakotay's voice sounds behind me. "It's not every day we go looking for the Borg. What's up?"

I turn to face him, slowly. I see the concern in his eyes, and I know he's remembering our earlier conversation. "Seven needs a new cortical node," I say. We exchange a long silent look, and our communion is broken by Tuvok's emotionless voice.

"Captain, need I remind you the Borg often return to salvage damaged cubes."

I look at my old friend, my Chief of Security. "It's a risk I'm willing to take."

Chakotay speaks again, and I know from his tone that he's speaking as my First Officer. "I want to help Seven as much as anyone," he says, "but if we're not careful we'll all end up with cortical nodes."

The glance he shoots at me, and then at Tuvok, tells me his thoughts. It's only been a couple of months since Tuvok, B'Elanna, and I were assimilated ourselves, during our efforts to free the drones of Unimatrix Zero.

I meet his gaze, acknowledging his concern in all its many layers. "That's why I'm taking the Flyer," I tell him flatly. "Alone."

My First Officer's jaw hardens, and I see a flicker of anger, quickly controlled, in his dark eyes, but before he comments, or protests, Harry tells us he's located the Borg debris field.

I give my orders without looking at him, keeping my body, my eyes, focused on my lover. "Transmit the co-ordinates to the Flyer." I pause, look away from Chakotay, and look back again. Deliberately, I speak gently. "You have the Bridge, Commander."

Chakotay says nothing. It's Tom Paris, our irrepressible pilot, who speaks up, his voice breaking the tension in the room.

"With all due respect, Captain, the last time you took the Delta Flyer to confront the Borg it ended up in a couple of thousand pieces." The words are cheeky, typical of what I've come to expect from him, but the steady gaze he fixes on me tells me more than his words, and I force a smile at him.

"I intend to bring it back in one piece this time," I assure him, trying to keep my voice as light as his.

Tom's blue eyes never leave mine. "A good pilot might be able to help you do that." It's not altogether a suggestion.

I see Tuvok nod approvingly out of the corner of my eye. "Particularly if he's accompanied by an experienced Tactical Officer," he adds.

"You shouldn't do this by yourself, Captain," Chakotay tells me, and as I look at him again I know that he's grateful to Tom and Tuvok for saying what he could not.

Always, always we make this dance between friends, lovers, and colleagues, and when our lives become dangerous, as they often do, it's difficult to separate the personas, difficult to know what to say, what to do.

I blink, and look, carefully, at each of the men in this room. They're all so dear to me, in different ways. Tuvok is my anchor. Tom, a younger brother who can make me smile when no-one else can. Harry's almost like a son. And Chakotay- I cannot express in words alone what Chakotay is to me.

I swallow, and make myself speak properly, with command, as a Captain should. "Well, then, gentlemen, I guess you're with me."

Tom and Tuvok follow me into the 'lift. My eyes remain fixed on Chakotay's until the doors close.

For a moment, I'm overwhelmed by sheer terror. I wonder if I'm mad, to think of such a thing. I look at my two companions, and am filled with desperate gratitude. In their own ways, they're both fond of Seven, but I know it's me they're doing this for.

I reach out and clasp a hand from each. They respond as I've come to expect- Tom, with a quirky grin, and Tuvok with a return squeeze so slight I could believe I've imagined it. Only I know I haven't.

We've gone head to head with the Borg before, I remind myself. More than once. We've won every time. Surely, surely, this time our luck will continue to hold.

"Were you angry?" Kathryn asked Chakotay softly.

He shrugged slightly. "More surprised and annoyed, rather than angry. I know you, Kathryn. You were feeling angry at the prospect of losing Seven, and you wanted to do something that would help. I wasn't too impressed that you hadn't informed me of what was happening, or that you'd decided to risk yourself –yet again!- especially so soon after our last encounter with the Borg."

"You never said anything," Kathryn whispered.

"What was the point? It was something I knew you needed to do, and there was no point in fighting it. I knew you'd need me afterwards."

Phoebe looked at him. "You knew that?"

Chakotay shrugged again. "You forget, Phoebe, this wasn't long after Kathryn's own assimilation." His voice was unwontedly harsh. "She was still recovering from that- mentally, if not physically." He glanced at the woman sitting motionless beside him, and gentled his tone. "I think, too, that her desire to go the cube herself was part of that recovery process. She wanted to take from the Borg, rather than losing to them yet again."

"Yes. Yes, that's it, although I don't think I rationalised it to myself in quite that way."

Phoebe watched her sister and Chakotay exchange a long look laden with words unsaid and an emotion that was almost palpable. She shifted.

"Anyone for more coffee?" she suggested as brightly as she could.

Kathryn nodded and pushed her cup. "Please. I'll need it."

Silently Phoebe refilled their cups before sitting once more, allowing Kathryn to continue with her tale.