p a r t f i v e

Phoebe laughed for the first time since Kathryn had started talking.

"I think I'm going to like this pilot of yours," she said appreciatively.

Kathryn flashed a grin of her own. "I'm sure you will," she returned drily. "And just for the record, he's not mine. He belongs to an extremely hot-tempered half-Klingon."

"B'Elanna Torres?" Phoebe asked, recalling the name from the media reports, and Chakotay's remark earlier.

"The one and only!" Chakotay responded with a grin. "I never thought I'd say this," he began reflectively, "but Tom Paris is a good man. He's saved us all more than once."

"How?" Phoebe asked.

"Take your pick," Kathryn answered. "He's superb pilot; he's also a highly competent medic. Not to mention our resident joker." She began to laugh, and her companions grinned in sympathy.

"Do you remember the Demon planet?" she said at last, her eyes still bright with fun.

Chakotay leered at her. "You bet I do, Captain. I had high hopes for our doubles, you know."

Kathryn's cheeks went slightly pink, and she shook her head at him. "I wasn't talking about that. Remember Tom's suggestion for keeping Voyager going?"

Chakotay had to think for a moment, but then he grinned on his own account. "Something to do with bikes and pushing, wasn't it. And then there was the prank he and Harry played on Tuvok the day he was promoted to Lieutenant Commander."

"What did they do?" Phoebe asked, fascinated by the lighter side of their trip across the Delta Quadrant.

"Oh, they rigged the computer to respond to any and all queries from Tuvok with 'Live long and prosper,'" Kathryn explained, still smiling at the thought of her helmsman's many pranks.

Phoebe did laugh at that episode; she had met Tuvok on more than one occasion, and could imagine precisely how the Vulcan would respond to such an incident. "Now I know I'd like him!" she exclaimed.

Kathryn raised a brow at her. "Tuvok?" she deadpanned.

"No! Tom Paris!"

"You have met him, actually," Kathryn said. "Dad used to work with Owen Paris. Don't you remember going to their house? You played with Moira and Kathleen, and I-"

"Talked boring Starfleet. Yes, I remember. You mean your Tom Paris was that annoying kid with blue eyes and fair hair?"

"Sounds about right," Chakotay quipped. Kathryn thumped him.

Phoebe grinned at the refreshing sight of her staid elder sister roughhousing, and produced a plate of Gretchen Janeway's famed caramel brownies- and more coffee.

Kathryn eyed them eagerly. "Oh, good for you. I was thinking it was time for more."

"It's a bribe," Phoebe told her frankly. "I want you to carry on with your story."

"Wouldn't you rather hear about the pranks of the three musketeers?" Kathryn protested.

"Also known as Tom, Harry, and B'Elanna," Chakotay supplemented for the younger Janeway's benefit.

"No," Phoebe said firmly. "I want to hear about you, and Seven, and how my sister was convinced that it's OK to be human…"

Kathryn nodded in reluctant acceptance of her sibling's demand, and began once more.

I watch appreciatively as we approach my ship. It's always a treat to see her smooth curves and graceful lines from this perspective. Given everything we've been through, she's in remarkably good shape. Having said that, I'm startled at the proliferation of Borg-green lights on the hull. I know that B'Elanna and Seven have made a number of Borg-inspired adaptations to the ship, but until now I'd never realised how visible they are.

My reverie is broken by the slight bump as the Flyer lands in the shuttle bay. A moment later and post-flight procedures are complete. I send a grateful smile to my companions, and tap my badge. "Janeway to the Doctor."

"Yes, Captain."

"We're back and we have the node!"

"We're glad to hear it," the Doctor says, his slightly acerbic tone undiluted by the communicator channel. "Seven's with me now, Captain."

"Good. How are you doing, Seven?"

"I am as well as can be expected, Captain. When do you wish to begin?" I know she's addressing the Doctor rather than me, so I wait for his response.

"Not yet- not for real, at least. Captain, could you and Mr Paris meet me in the holodeck? We need to run simulations."

"Of course. We'll be there. Janeway out."

I turn to Tom and Tuvok. "Tom, you heard him. Tuvok, if you're recovered, go to the Bridge and see what's happening there. I'm sure Commander Chakotay will be glad to see you." I try not to let regret tinge my voice; I'd dearly love to see Chakotay before going to the holodeck, but duty must come first.

"Yes, Captain." Tuvok vanishes, and Tom and I make our way to join the Doctor.

"She's going into anaphylactic shock!"

My heart sinks at Tom's words. They've become horribly familiar over the past hours. I know what's going to happen next..

"Her implants aren't adapting," the Doctor says for the thirteenth time. "They're rejecting the new node."

"It's losing synaptic cohesion!" Tom barks, his tone urgent.

"Apply a twenty millijoule neurostatic pulse on my mark. Now."

I obey the Doctor's order. My answer is the same as before: "No effect."

"Again!"

"Increase the pulse. Thirty millijoules." I hit the button and watch in despair as Tom and the Doctor try to revive 'Seven.' Once again, they fail. My throat closes over, and I need to look down to blink away the tears of disappointment and exhaustion.

"Computer, end simulation," the Doctor says, sounding as tired as I feel.

I grit my teeth. I'm not stopping now. "Why did you stop?" I demand. I cringe; I sound slightly hysterical.

"It wasn't working," the Doctor tells me with dejected patience.

"Run it again!" I know, and do not care, that my desperation is plain in my voice.

Tom and the Doctor exchange a look before Tom turns to me. "Captain, this was our twelfth simulation. Something tells me thirteen won't be our lucky number."

"The salvaged node has been inactive too long," the Doctor adds gently.

I stare at them both, their faces as drawn as mine must be. Don't give up. I swallow and glare at them.

"Then we'll find one that hasn't!"