I dont own this story nor i am its writer. This story is from SIDoragon.

Season 1 - Episode 2: Basket Case
March 2371

This has got to be the most unappealing place to eat ever devised by a bureaucracy.

This was the first thought I had after stepping out of the turbolift onto Deck Two and walking into the Mess Hall. Looking around, it was very difficult to find anything to go against that initial thought. The space itself was fairly open, and I did enjoy the windows that ran the length of the far wall, but even that did absolutely nothing to change my opinion. It just screamed, "Life is grey, and so are your taste buds."

When you first walked in you were assaulted by the grey carpet on the floor, harsh in its plainness. Enclosing the space were walls that came in two colors; light grey, and dark grey, with steel light scones on the walls. Steel because chrome wouldn't be grey enough. The ceiling was a mixture of backlit diffusing panels and recessed LEDs sporadically placed around the room, which met the goal of providing a source of illumination to keep you from knocking something over, but failed to provide enough of it to really see what you were really eating.

Maybe that design was made on purpose? Get people to eat then leave? In any event, I wouldn't want to read a book in here.

The rest of the room continued to fit this lack of color. Silver metal tables dotted the space, with a dark grey band crossing it in such as was as there was no question which side of the table belonged to someone. These were paired with grey wave chairs; those annoying ones that were one piece and shaped to the form of a chair. At each end of the Hall were replicator stations encased in, you guessed it, more grey.

There are Soviet-era ultra-utilitarian bunkers that have more personality than this room.

Aside from the red or yellow stripes on the crew's uniforms, the single most colorful thing in the room was the strange Mr. Neelix, who was standing behind the impromptu bar doling out food. The Talaxian had taken to his role as chef with a vengeance; the Captain's Dining Room turned Kitchen had a half dozen fires going with various pots and pans stacked atop them bringing things to a boil or swimmer. Part of me was looking forward to trying his cooking because what I could smell was actually pretty interesting, but one glance at that long plume of ginger hair cresting over his scalp, or the long 'whiskers' on either side of his jaw, brought to my mind the image of an angry old tom cat my cousin kept.

It was infamous for basically living in the kitchen, but that hadn't mattered to anyone until Christmas one year. He was forced to give up the kitchen after people started to notice the red hair in all the food.

Since replicator rations were in short supply aboard the ship, Neelix was supplementing the food supply with what he could. So far the ship had stopped at two uninhabited worlds to collect wild fruits and vegetables, while collecting more seeds to grow food in Cargo Bay Two, which had always been a small source of frustration for me.

It was a surprising thing to find, when I got my hands on an actual, complete, map of the ship, Voyager didn't, in fact, have twenty different Cargo Bays. I remember when watching the show, any time there was an issue in a Cargo Bay it was always Bay Two, but the deck and even the location of it shifted from episode to episode. Presumably it was a mistake made by the writers of those scripts and not something to be taken as gospel, but I had been worried until I was able to see them with my own eyes.

Thankfully, some of my confusion had been taken care of. Cargo Bay One is on Deck Four, although it was two decks in height and had doors for both. Cargo Bay Two wan on Deck Eight, and while it was also multilevel there were only entrances on a single level. It was also longer, being roughly twice the size of Bay One.

Of course, this also confused me because by the time Seven of Nine was supposed to join the crew, she took over Cargo Bay Three - which didn't exist. There were several possible places for a third or fourth Bay, but Voyager hadn't established them yet. Maybe this was something that would be done later on when they finally realized they needed more space to store goods and supplies than an even the Intrepid class, which was designed for long-term exploration, had. There were many unused rooms that were marked down for supplies on the map of the ship, so I didn't understand why they wouldn't use anything other than Cargo Bay Two.

With a mental shrug, I decided to risk the food and approached the counter. Neelix immediately noticed me in the dim light, and I just managed to catch his eyes widening in surprise before he plastered on a smile.

He gave me the warm greeting of, "Why hello there, Mr. Shepard! Welcome to the galley. My, my, you are a big fellow. You must need a lot to eat to get that big. Might I be able to interest you in today's special, mashed Jibalian tuber!"

I leaned over the nearest plate and took a quick sniff, confirming that it'd been what I had been smelling. With a grin I told him, "Looks like red mashed potatoes, but smells like sweet corn. Let me guess, it's high in carbohydrates?"

"Actually, no!" The Talaxian beamed at me, laughing happily, and immediately proceeded to explain, "You are the third person to ask me that today! No, the Jibalian tuber is high in a lot of necessary vitamins. A serving of this only has 4 grams of carbohydrates, though it has 8 grams of fiber, but the real beauty of this little gem is that just one of them has a large percent of your daily vitamin needs. I think the Doctor told me it had seventy-two percent of a human's daily needs."

I smiled at that, and gave a friendly nod to the alien as I picked up my plate, juggling it a little with the data padd I was carrying, but before I could walk away he tapped my arm and added, "Now, be warned, I have been told by some of the crewmen that it is a little on the spicy side."

That made me pause.

Slowly, I sat the tray back down, picked up a spoon, and scooped up a bit to try. The moment the red mash hit my tongue I knew exactly what he was talking about. My eyes started to water, sinuses cleared, and I fought down a coughing fit with an effort of supreme will. That effort quickly failed.

Fighting the urge the drink a nearby glass of water, I managed to choke out, "It takes like a raw jalapeno."

"That is what Mr. Paris said," Neelix agreed happily. "I have been meaning to ask if that is some kind of delicacy on Earth?"

I slowly shook my head, glaring at the alien. "Not by itself. It is a spice used to make things hot. They are normally eaten with something else to take some of the heat away. The juice was once used as a weapon on earth, spraying it into our opponents eyes to blind them. Some special breeds could even burn our flesh. I suspect this was one of those."

"Oh dear. I may need to apologize to some people who got the first dishes. Those would have been stronger." The Talaxian slowly added, looking thoughtful but completely unconcerned about the torture he had inflicted.

I finally gave up and start chugging the class of water. As I finished the cool liquid, I told him, "Maybe if you are going to be cooking for a predominantly human crew, it would be prudent to learn what their palette is. I know some people back home who would eat that as a challenge, to win a bet, but not as a normal meal."

I glanced over at the kitchen and tried my best to fight down an aggrieved sigh that I knew was going to become a routine thing. I'd only been awake for two days in this universe, and I was already finding things to get annoyed about.

"Neelix," I began slowly, "when you were preparing this food, did you not wear any gloves?"

"Excuse me?" He seemed genuinely confused by the question.

"Gloves. For your hands. Keeps germs from getting into the food." I explained. "It's why we have rules for handling the preparation of meals. We also wash our hands regularly, but I don't see a sink in your kitchen, or any soap."

I looked pointedly at the tiny kitchen he had cobbled together. "There are also utensils hanging over the cooking elements, and I see food being cooked next to preparation areas used for raw ingredients, increasing cross-contamination." I knew that thanks to the twenty fourth century medicine, most things could be cured with a hypospray, but that shouldn't excuse negligence for basic food safety standards.

Maybe it was just me. Maybe generations of reliance on synthetic food, biofilters, and advanced medicine had eradicated all common sense regarding food handling. Maybe laws or regulations regarding food safety were abandoned around the same time aliens and their culinary habits started to leak into the human sphere.

Oh Gods, I'm turning into Gordon Ramsey. My life is not going to be going around inspecting various kitchens for cleanliness or the cooks for competency!

With a shake of the head, I added, "Maybe you would like to get someone from Engineering to take a look over the space and bring it up to code? It'd make things easier in the long run, and make it easier to cook." I'd just ignore how Tuvok knew about this for several days and hadn't already done something about it.

I glanced down at the tray of food, and gave a mental shrug. I might be able to save it.

Glancing up at Neelix, I finally realize just how much I had annoyed the alien. His mouth was puckered up and his skin tone had shifted from pale to purple. "Now see here. I'll have you know that the Captain approves of my kitchen and I won't have you disrespecting my efforts to provide help to the crew!" he snapped at me.

My first reaction is to bark back at him and give him a piece of my mind. However, I felt myself calming down, and realized doing so wouldn't help anyone. Instead I just picked up my tray, gave the alien a smile and a friendly nod of my head, and walked to the back of the room. Most of the room was empty, so finding a table wasn't difficult. I picked the far corner, with a clear view of both entrances and my back to the wall, my new old memories demanding I sit there. I sat my tray and padd down, but before taking my seat I walked over to the Replicator and decided that this would be worth the use of a ration.

"Computer, half a cup of sour cream and half a cup of shredded cheddar cheese. Room Temp," I instructed. If it was anything like Jalapenos, the oil that caused the burn would bind to the nonpolar milk products.

The machine acknowledged my order with a chirp, and after a couple seconds of watching a small lightshow it had produced my request in a pair of small containers. I dipped a finger into the cream to see if it was real, cringed at my unhygienic action, and frowned a little in thought even as I picked up the containers and took them back to my table.

"If you were just going to replicator some food, why did you take my tray?" Neelix grumbled from his counter. A few people glanced over to see what was going on, but otherwise did nothing.

I sighed in exasperation and said, "I'm not replicating a meal, just some ingredients that you don't have. Come here and try this."

I mixed the cream and cheddar into the hot red mash until it was well blended. I took a test bite, and was a little disappointed, but at least I no longer wanted to drown myself in a glass of milk. I imagine it is because a replicator can't make real dairy products and that was why the taste was off. Biofilters screen out bacteria and pathogens as a safety feature, which might explain why my new memories of food from the Federation didn't really mesh well with the memories from my original life.

Unless you got something spicy, replicator food was bland. Homemade and fresh grown was still best, but most people just didn't have the time or willpower to make a meal when you could just tell the computer to make something. It was likely the reason why restaurants, like the one Sisko's father runs, were so popular in a post scarcity world that had food synthesizers in every home.

As Neelix walked over to me, his frown still cemented on, I gestured for him to try it. He pulled out a spoon, took a bite, and his eyebrows rose in response. "What happened to it?"

"You're a Talaxian. This heat might be normal to you, but not us. If you have questions about what Humans eat, or why, ask us. We learned a long time ago how to bring the heat from spicy food down to a more tolerable level. Fresh sour cream works best, but in a pinch replicated stuff will work as well. Equally useful would be some kind of salted tuber chip." I informed him.

Neelix glared at me for a moment, before he suddenly straightened his back, gave me a nod, and walked back to his kitchen far more quickly than he had come out of it. I grinned, chuckling briefly, and then turned to my meal to dig in.

Once the meal was finished off, the heat bearable, I pushed the tray to the side and returned to the padd I held with a sigh of resignation, similar, but different than a sigh of annoyance. It was the duty roster for Security, handed off to me just before I got into the turbolift up here by Chakotay himself. Starting tomorrow I was in charge of ship security, reporting to Lieutenant Commander Tuvok, and I was about as satisfied with what I saw on the padd as I was with the inside of Neelix's kitchen.

Twenty-two people, including me, were currently assigned to Voyager's Security. Sadly, nine of the original officers were lost when the Caretaker flung the ship across the galaxy. Those nine had been replaced by Maquis, largely at the direction of First Officer Chakotay. Included in the roster were the notations Tuvok left arguing against this.

Eight of those nine I would have to get to know later, but one of them was going to need to be spoken to Now. This wasn't because they had done something wrong, but because some bright spark had decided it would be a smart idea to place a Maquis at the provisional rank of Lieutenant without any prior experience commanding, or even working, in Starfleet.

She and the two other Lieutenants in Security would be meeting me shortly for a sort of orientation, but boy-oh-boy did I see some issues with the rest of the staff. Three Lieutenants, four Lieutenant Junior Grade, and thirteen Ensigns. And on top of that we also had four Chief Petty Officers who were only assigned to Voyager so they could complete their final requirements to be moved up to full commissioned officers.

Of those four CPO's none of which were on track to join Security, they were assigned to Security because of poor fortune and Janeway's lack of leadership. Security had been understaffed when they got there, and with the mission changing from extraction to exploration, they'd shuffled the FUNs around to technically fill the requirements, because obviously someone who'd trained all their schooling to be an engineer could be a soldier without issue. To be fair to Janeway, she started her career as a science officer and moved to command, though it showed in her actions, so she might not understand the problem. Then again, looking at their records, if she is going to throw away a pair of engineers and scientists, I'd happily take them under my wing.

If this is how she treats the rank and file crew, then yeah, I would have been worried about a mutiny if I was Janeway. Huh, maybe that is why Tuvok wrote that holodeck anti-mutiny training program in the original timeline. I wonder if he'll write it again? Would he put me on the pro or anti mutiny side?

I looked up as the far door opened, and blinked as I saw a short, pale skinned alien humanoid with blonde hair walk in carrying a basket full of vegetables. She strode straight into the kitchen, greeting the Talaxian warmly with a kiss. 'That must be Kes.'

She looked more delicate than I remembered, but her face matched the crew manifest portrait I had been given and familiarized myself with. I had to admit, I was both envious and saddened by her species, the Ocampa. Born with great mental potential, gifted with the ability to learn at an accelerated rate as well carrying some genetic memories from their ancestors, they had the trade off of having the comparative lifespan of a mayfly. Only nine years to grow, learn, build a future, and hand it over to the next generation before you died.

When Kes got on Voyager, she had to have known she was going to die long before the ship made it home. That was a hell of a sacrifice she made, to leave her home, her people, behind to die with strangers. Then again, she was barely a year old, so maybe she was going through her species' version of teenage rebellion. Though, with how much she saved the crew, it was likely for the best they found her when they did.

Poor Ocampa. No more Caretaker to provide for them, stuck underground on a desert world while Kazon slavers camp out on the surface waiting for them to poke their heads out. Five years of energy reserves left for them to find a way to survive on their own. With how they were, they'd waste all ten years, then die in their city or escape it completely unprepared. In ten years, the Ocampa that still lived on their homeworld might be extinct.

Then again, we have our own power issues to deal with. I considered. Maybe it's time to start a mental wish list of technologies and ideas to explore that might help. Hell, I still have to make time on the holodeck to adapt the omni-tool design I'd spent a point to buy. And I might need to drop another point into it anyway to make it more efficient. The design I'd received, if built, would look almost nothing like device used in the game, needing a full vambrace and glove to function.

I watched as Kes left the kitchen, paused, and then turned to look over at me. After barely a second's hesitation, Kes smiled and started walking over towards me. As she approached, I felt my new manners kick in and I stood to greet her. Far braver than I would have been in my old life, Kes walked right up to my table and boldly declared, "Hello, my name is Kes. I don't believe we have met."

Extending a hand for her to shake, I smiled back at her, "Commander Branden Shepard. Just call me Shepard."

"A pleasure to meet you, Shepard." she replied, that infectious smile of hers never wavering. "Do you mind if I sit with you?"

"Not at all. Please help yourself." I indicated the opposite chair with a hand as I sat back. "To what reason do I owe the pleasure?"

Her smile faltered for a moment before she seemed to effortlessly grow it back. Her voice was soft as she answered, "Well, to be direct, I wanted to talk to you about Neelix. He seemed very upset when I spoke with him just now. But I also want to know who you are. I have been introducing myself to the crew and getting to know them all."

I glanced over at Neelix, who was staring at the two of us in the way only jealous boyfriends could, and I struggled not to laugh. "Neelix and I have a few differences of opinion on cooking for humans. Nothing that can't be worked out."

"He mentioned something about his food not being good enough for a garbage disposal." She looked at me evenly at that, like she was waiting to gauge my reaction.

A flicker of anger died as I took a slow breath and sighed. "I don't like words being put in my mouth. I simply pointed out that the natural spiciness of the food prepared today would be too much for the average crewmember. I then showed him how to make it more tolerable for Humans. I never said anything bad about his food."

"His food handling," I went on, "is another story. Earth kitchens have sinks to wash hands and food before prep. We separate our cooking stations and our prep stations to prevent cross-contamination."

"Cross-contamination. Are you saying the food has gone bad?" she asked innocently.

"No, potentially harmful organisms or substances on uncooked food is rendered safe by the process of cooking it, but that doesn't help if you put cooked food on the same thing that held uncooked food moments before. There are at least a dozen health and safety violations in his kitchen, and I suggested he have Engineering come up here and make sure everything is safe."

Kes leaned back for a moment, frowning in thought. "That isn't what he said."

"He was likely just saying things to make himself feel better." I offered, not really caring what the Talaxian said. "Sometimes people blow up or exaggerate the truth because they want to provoke a certain emotion. He likely just wanted some attention and sympathy from you, and then in an hour he will be fine."

A lopsided grin graced her face, and Kes rolled her eyes a bit. "That sounds exactly like something Neelix would do. I love him, he is a good man, but he can be very prone to exaggeration. He can be very prideful."

I offered a shrug and a half-grin in return. "He'll have to get used to it. Sometimes the way we do something doesn't make sense at first, but there's usually a reason for it. Usually, that reason has something to do with someone hurting themselves."

Kes thought on that for a few moments, giving my words a good deal of weight, while I glanced around the room and saw some people leave while others entered. I noticed that Neelix was now adding small containers of sour cream and cheese with his plates, so I guessed the lesson was learned. That only left the question of why nobody explained all this to our new aliens before I got here. While Section 31 didn't care that much, I'd have thought that Starfleet, with all of their rules for first contact, would have a protocol to help avoid cultural clashes like this.

"So," the Ocampa said, changing the subject, "why is your uniform different from everyone else?"

She pointed at the grey strip on my shoulders, and continued, "Everyone either has Red, for Command, Blue for Science, or Yellow for Engineering. What is Grey?"

I'd thought about my answer to this question for a long while, having expected it to have come up before now. Starfleet personnel didn't normally wear this uniform, after all. "Technically, it is an unassigned uniform. This is worn by those who don't fall into the three color-coded branches of Starfleet. I wear it, because while I am on this ship, I am not technically a part of the Voyager crew. Or I wasn't until we ended up here. This is the last day you will see me wearing it though, since tomorrow I will be taking over Security duties."

Hopefully, I added to myself, I'd have my new uniform ready in time. Like Hell was I going to have my Security teams wearing the same standard yellow uniforms that every other operations team has. It made it impossible to tell who belongs where at a glance, as if Engineering and Security where the same thing. I was going to be putting them in one of the alternate designs that had been in the records but never implemented. That would last until I came up with something better.

Did I expect Janeway to go along with this? No, not at all. But I'd cross that bridge when I came to it.

"I thought Tuvok was our Chief of Security?" Kes asked, eyes wide at the news.

I gave something between a shrug and nod, before explaining: "The Captain needed to put me somewhere useful. My advanced rank makes it difficult to have me doing maintenance work in Engineering, so the next best solution is to find something I have experience with and putting me there."

She cocked her head slightly, brimming with naiveté, "So you have experience doing Security work?"

"In a manner of speaking," I grinned at the young woman. "I know a few things that should help, at least. My experience is with commanding military forces."

She blinked at me, not understanding what I meant. I don't think the Ocampa even had the concept, and the Kuzon seemed to be nothing but military, so that was possible. Either way, she continued smiling at me, "So what is Tuvok going to be doing?"

I shrugged, "That's up to him. Technically, he is the ship's Chief Tactical Officer, in charge of all Operations, which makes him third in command overall. While Security will no longer be his direct concern, I will have to report to him so I assume he'll have some things to comment on."

"So, what is the difference between military and security for your people?" The Ocampa leaned forward, interested. "On my world, we really didn't have need for soldiers and police were few."

I leaned back in my chair, sharing an easy smile with the young woman. "We usually have a clear division of intent with our armed forces. Security is in the role of policing, to suppress criminal activity, maintain public order and safety, and keep the crew safe from crime. They live in settlements, and stations, and most who do that job aren't part of Starfleet at all."

"Military forces, on the other hand," I waved a hand in front of me, indicating the crew coming in for lunch, "are more focused. We are there to deter hostile invasions from other states, and to engage in combat operations on foreign worlds. Basically, Security's job is to make sure everyone on board this ship is obeying the law and take action to make sure people don't break it. My experience is going to other worlds to stop hostiles there before they can cause problems at all."

There was more to that, a lot more, but this was just the basics. "Both organizations are armed and occasionally end up in combat situations, but my organization is much more heavily geared towards this role. With our situation, the Security crew is going to be needed act a lot more militaristically then they would back home in the Federation. What I'm hoping to do is share some of that knowledge so the crew will get home safe," I ended, taking a drink of water.

"Interesting," was all Kes has to say. Instead she gave me a polite smile, stood, and added, "Well, I need to get back to the aeroponics bay. I'll speak with you again soon."

I stood with her, gave her a warm smile and a nod of the head, and watched her walk away before returning to my seat. There was still another thirty minutes before I needed to go meet with my new Lieutenants, so instead I picked up my padd and kept reading. As I read, my mind kept wandering back to other things I could spend point on to help the crew. How those things could mesh with the other things I already knew. What could be useful now, versus later. What would require special materials, and what I could use a Replicator to make.

Maybe I shouldn't have been so quick to dismiss the arc reactor idea, I considered. From what I remembered of the movie, the original reactor - before Tony miniaturized it - looked a lot like a toroidal plasma containment system for a fusion power plant. I might be able to actually make the damn thing by substituting comic-book physics with Star Trek physics, but I was still not sure what the power output would be. Would it be enough to be worth the work, enough to be worth the points that could be spent elsewhere?

Throwing my Academy education at it, I could guess that the thing works through Palladium-103 and 107 radio-isotopic decay to produce electrical current, albeit how it managed to produce a metric butt-load of current, I didn't know. Then again, if I did, I wouldn't need to spend the points.

Fine, I told myself, focusing inwards. I have 9 more charges I can spend, but I don't want to have less than five in my reserve. So let's spend these four on…

Mass Effect: Omni-Tools (1 Charge)

The option was there, even though I'd already bought it. I didn't get any other information, just the option itself. Mentally selecting it, I felt the charge drain out of me, the foreign feeling of information ready to be learned taking its place.

I leaned back in the chair and closed my eyes, like I was taking a quick nap, and just allowed the flood of knowledge to wash over me. What I knew about omni-tools increased tenfold in a matter of seconds, and I could physically feel the information I'd gained building on what I already knew.

Turns out, it was a good thing I'd paid for this charge. I would have had a difficult time building the device before, but now the design and construction time would be reduced, while versatility would be greatly increased.

With a slow, deep breath of air to clear my mind, I decided on the next topic. This time I tried to focus not on a piece of technology, but a concept. As I did so, I felt a new option appear in my mind.

Efficiency (1 charge)

And holy shit that just made everything I know fall into question. Was what I considering really the most efficient way to build an Omni-tool? Or a warp core? Managing the ships energy supplies? Growing food? I now knew enough that I could see there were problems, and I could barely get the sense of some simple solutions to improve things Voyager's situation. It wasn't a lot, most on the level of getting Engineering to build Neelix's kitchen, and I had a feeling that I'd need a lot more charges in this for any large scale improvements, but even the small ones my new knowledge was feeding me would be a great help on the ship and the crew.

With a shuddering breath, I gripped the table and stabilized myself. I imagined that from the outside observer, I must have looked like I was in pain or suffering from something, but thankfully the little corner was out of the way and I had always been able to blend into the background. My grey uniform helped, working as an oddly efficient form of camouflage in this horribly decorated room.

As I regained more and more control of my thoughts, I turned my mind to the idea of an Arc Reactor, and got two responses:

Marvel MCU: Arc Reactor (1 Charge)

Marvel MCU: Arc Reactor (2 Charges)

So they can cost multiple points, I realized. In a sense, the Omni-tools had as well, to get what I actually wanted. A single point had gotten me a bulky, ponderous system, and it was only the second that netted me what I really wanted. I considered last two charges I wanted to spend and decided on a course of action. Better to find out if I don't need it, than let the question linger in the back of my mind forever.

"Mother of God," I mumbled, unable to control myself, clenching my eyes as tightly as I could as the information felt like it flowed over and into my retina at warp speed. This was not a pleasant learning experience.

But I was already learning things. Important things. I was smart to drop two charges into the technology because I certainly would have been limited with the massive original design that barely broke even on the power output, if that had been the one-point option. Now I had the Earth-199999 design based on Tony's chest mounted Palladium reactor, which could put out three gigajoules of power per second. It was even meshing well with my Trek-knowledge, filling in the blanks and improving the design until it was able to produce four gigajoules per second, the precision possible with their tech light years beyond what Tony could've achieved. The efficiency knowledge, as little as it was, still helped make a difference as well.

A few more charges in that technology, along with more efficiency, and I might have something that would - maybe not end the search for more power - but would significantly help provide the ship with an alternate source of power. I could already see that it wouldn't be compatible with the warp engines, so we would still need more deuterium, antideuterium, and dilithium crystals to power the core. However, the extra power could be useful for replicators, life support and many other systems that didn't draw large amounts of energy at once. If nothing else, a few dozen arc reactors placed around the ship could work as an emergency power supply.

We would be the only people that have them in the sector at least, if not the universe. At least until someone stole one from the ship. Or Janeway traded it away, since it wasn't a Federation tech and she could rationalize it away as not upsetting the balance of power as much as Warp Core technology. Or one of the random people Janeway always invited onboard and gave free reign scanned it. Or the Borg assimilated it.

Christ, this is going to be harder than I thought.