III.

Slowly, Chakotay became aware of the warm body next to him. He instinctively wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer. Then he realized that something was horribly wrong. The events of the previous night came back to him. He remembered being awakened by intruders and trying to fight them off. He remembered not being able to breathe and realized that he must have lost consciousness. He realized that he was lying on a hard surface that was not Seven's bed, and he opened his eyes. He looked at himself and Seven and saw that they were lying on the floor, both clothed in plain grey jumpsuits. "Seven," he urged. "Seven, wake up."

Beside him, Seven stirred, and they sat up, surveying their surroundings. "Where are we?" Seven asked.

"I don't know. What's the last thing you remember?"

"You woke me in the middle of the night. There were intruders in my apartment."

He nodded. "I heard two men. I tried to get to them, but they must have drugged us." He rested his head between his hands. "I have a killer headache."

"So do I."

Ignoring the pain in his temples, Chakotay stood. The grey-walled room was furnished with a single bench and a toilet facility, and it resembled a Starfleet detention cell.

Having reached the same conclusion, Seven said, "We appear to be in some sort of brig."

"Agreed. But where?" One side of the cell was protected by a forcefield, and the rest of it looked like a typical Starfleet brig. There were no markings that might indicate their location, but there was a man standing guard outside the forcefield. He wore a yellow Starfleet uniform and the pips of an ensign. "Ensign," Chakotay called him, "where are we? What's going on? Why are we being held here?"

The man did not reply. He did not even look at Chakotay.

"I'm Commander Chakotay, and I'm giving you a direct order, Ensign. Answer me."

The man looked at them, and Chakotay thought he saw guilt in the ensign's expression, but he still did not reply.

"Hey!" Chakotay called again. "Answer me! What the hell is going on?"

The doors to the brig swished open, and an unfamiliar man entered. He was tall and thin, with a gaunt face and eyes that seemed to sink into the back of his head. He wore a Starfleet uniform and an admiral's rank bar. Instinctively, Chakotay disliked him. "I will answer you, Commander Chakotay," he said in a high-pitched, nasal voice, "if you'll be a little patient."

"Who are you?" Chakotay demanded. "Why are we here?"

"Patience, Commander, patience. All your questions will be answered in due time. However, at the moment, I'm here to speak with Seven of Nine."

"I have nothing to say to you," Seven replied.

"Is that so?" the man replied. "I could take Commander Chakotay with me and speak to him instead, but I don't think you'd find him returned to you in very good condition."

"You make empty threats," Seven replied, her tone cold.

"I assure you that my threats are far from empty. All I need to do is say the word, and your precious Chakotay will be hauled away to a torture chamber."

Seven looked from Chakotay to the admiral and back again. Chakotay was shaking his head, but she turned back to the admiral anyway. "I will speak with you willingly if you will answer the commander's questions."

Chakotay watched the other man consider Seven's request. He could see that the admiral was sizing her up, trying to determine who exactly he was holding in his brig. Chakotay was willing to bet that the other man was about to underestimate her.

"Very well, Seven of Nine. I'll answer Commander Chakotay. I am Admiral Vince Garrett, and you are here to serve me. Now, come with me please."

"That is an incomplete answer. Define what you mean by 'serve you,'" Seven replied.

"You'll find that out in due time. Now come with me before I have to ask the ensign here to pull out his weapon."

Seven stood, and Chakotay quickly followed, grabbing her arm. "Seven!"

"I will be fine, Chakotay," she assured him. She gestured to the admiral and the ensign, whose hand was resting on the phaser at his hip. "It seems we have little choice in the matter."

Reluctantly, Chakotay released her arm and watched, helpless, as she walked away with Admiral Garrett.

Outside the door to the brig, Garrett and Seven were joined by two security personnel with phaser rifles. "You anticipated that I would not come with you willingly," Seven observed.

"I simply want to be prepared for all possibilities."

"Where are we?" Seven asked. "This appears to be a space station."

"Very observant," Garrett replied sarcastically. "Are you using your Borg sensory acuity?"

"No." Seven observed the area carefully as they walked through the corridors, acutely aware of the two phaser rifles flanking her. "We must be far from Starfleet Command," she deduced aloud, "for you to have such free reign to violate protocol. How many days has it been since you kidnapped us?"

"Kidnapped is such a strong word, Seven of Nine. I merely reassigned you."

"You drugged us and removed us from my domicile without our permission. We were abducted, not reassigned. How many days?"

"Five," Garrett admitted. "But you've been under the care of my best physicians; no need to worry."

"You kept us unconscious for five days?"

"I couldn't take the risk that you would wake up on the journey."

She considered for a moment why the admiral would want them to be unconscious during the journey. "You traveled by some means other than standard warp travel?"

"Very good," Garrett said, this time genuinely impressed with her powers of deduction.

"How far are we from Earth?"

"At standard high warp?" Garrett replied. "Two weeks on the fastest ship in the fleet."

Using her knowledge of star charts, Seven began to calculate the list of worlds that would be that distant from Earth. She also realized the implication of Garrett's statement, that even when someone realized they were missing and mounted a rescue effort, no one would be able to reach them for at least two weeks. She followed Garrett in silence into a turbolift, down another corridor, and through a set of double doors. The doors led to a sickbay. Two nurses in Starfleet uniform bustled around the work stations, and a short, pudgy man wearing a white lab coat over civilian clothes rose from his desk and approached them.

"Seven of Nine," Garrett said, "meet Dr. Torstin Zupanich."

The man in the lab coat fixed Seven with a grin that sent shivers down her spine. "Seven of Nine," he said, savoring each word on his tongue, "it's a pleasure to meet you."

"It is not my pleasure," Seven retorted. "Why have you brought me here?"

"You are here to help us change the nature of humanity," Garrett said.

"I do not believe that the majority of humanity wishes to change its nature."

"Humanity doesn't know what they're missing," Zupanich replied wistfully.

"And if I refuse?" Seven asked.

"What makes you think you'll have a choice?" replied Garrett.

"Please," said Zupanich, "lie down on the biobed. You are about to become the catalyst for the greatest advancement humanity has ever seen."

"Define the nature of this advancement."

"I've heard that the Borg desire to attain perfection," Zupanich said. "Is this true?"

Seven shifted uncomfortably. "Yes, the Borg seek to attain perfection through assimilation. But I have learned since my time as a Borg that their definition of perfection is… flawed."

"Flawed?" Zupanich asked. "The Borg function seamlessly. They are able to make many advanced calculations simultaneously and to complete tasks with efficiency beyond what any human group could achieve. There is no dissension, no questions that arise from differing opinions, no fights or altercations, no deviation from the command structure. Just imagine if the crew of a Starfleet ship could operate with the same efficiency."

Seven felt a chill go down her spine. "You intend to use me to create a Borg collective within Starfleet?"

"No," Zupanich soothed. "It will be a human collective."

"Enough talk," Garrett cut in. "Lie down on the biobed."

Seven looked at Garrett defiantly. "I will not comply."

"Then you will be forced," Garrett said, and he motioned to the two security guards. One guard pointed his phaser rifle at her while the other one, along with one of the nurses, tried to wrestle her onto the biobed. She struggled against them, and managed to free one arm and strike one of the nurses hard. Then she felt the shock of a disruptor beam hit her, but there was no pain. Instead, she discovered that she had lost all control of her limbs, and she crumpled helplessly to the floor.

"What have you done to me?" she asked Garrett.

The admiral smiled, showing his yellowing teeth, and gestured to the weapon in the hand of one of the security guards. "One of Dr. Zupanich's inventions. It disrupts the neurological system, temporarily paralyzing the victim's limbs. In other words, it's my way of ensuring that you will comply."

Seven was hoisted up on the biobed, and she watched as her hands and feet were restrained. "What are you doing?"

"I'll let Dr. Zupanich explain," said Garrett, the same smug smile still on his face.

Zupanich took a medical tricorder, and began to run it over Seven's cranium. "I'm scanning your myo-neural cortical array. I need to see how much of the Borg network is still intact, and how much your human neural pathways have taken over." He closed the scanner and looked at Garrett. "The myo-neural cortical array is intact. Bypassing her human physiology should not be a problem."

"Good," Garrett said.

Zupanich picked up a laser scalpel from the table and approached Seven. "Now, I'm going to extract some of your nanoprobes so we can reprogram them."

Garrett leaned over Seven, exposing his toothy smile once again. "You, my dear Seven of Nine, are going to be the start of a new collective, my collective."

"No!" Seven cried. "I will not comply!" She tried to struggle against the bonds that held her, but she was powerless to move her limbs. She could only watch in horror as her nanoprobes were extracted and Admiral Garrett looked on in smug satisfaction.

Torres, Janeway, and the Doctor sat together in the rear compartment of the Delta Flyer, poring over the data that Captain Braxton had given Janeway. Paris had managed to convince his father to let him take the Flyer to "test some new modifications" he and B'Elanna wanted to make. He had begged for use of the ship, suggesting that while the official purpose was work, he also would gain some much needed time alone with his wife. Admiral Paris pulled some strings and granted his son's request, all too happy to have some alone time with his new granddaughter as a bonus. Tom had asked for a full ten days, meaning that they would make good progress toward Garrett's secret base by the time anyone realized they weren't where they were supposed to be.

"Garrett is creative, I'll give him that," said B'Elanna.

"If you want to call extreme coercion and brutality creativity," the Doctor replied.

"I just mean it's an interesting idea, using Borg technology to create a hive mind while still allowing the individual to maintain enough personality to be able to function in society, without anyone knowing they've been…"

"Assimilated?" Janeway supplied.

"Exactly. It's original. Ingenious actually, even though it's being used for an evil purpose."

"In fact, Lieutenant," the Doctor corrected her, "the individual does not maintain his or her own original personality. Rather, the individual's personality is replaced and programmed by the person or people in charge of the collective."

Janeway felt a chill run down her spine. Power over others, that was what Garrett was after.

"I wasn't praising Garrett. I think his plan to turn people into drones is as despicable as you do," B'Elanna said.

Janeway could see that the Doctor was about to shoot back another acerbic reply, and she held up a hand. "Doctor, why don't you go to the forward compartment and give Harry and Tuvok a hand. They're working on ways disable the neural transceiver that links to the hive mind."

"All right, Captain. I'd rather do that than sit here listening to Lieutenant Torres praise this evil monster."

"I wasn't…" B'Elanna started, but the Doctor was already gone.

"Let him go," Janeway said. "You know how protective he is of Seven. He's just upset."

"He's not the only one whose friends' lives are on the line."

Janeway let the comment pass without response. "I wish we knew exactly what Garrett is doing," she admitted. "This data includes only one possible way he'll try to create a collective."

"But it's almost certain he'll reprogram Seven's nanoprobes and use them to rewrite the neural pathways of his test subjects. I don't see what else he'd want her for."

"Is there a way for us to re-reprogram the nanoprobes?" Janeway asked.

"Maybe. If I had one to experiment with I could tell you. The Doctor might have a better idea. He's had a lot of experience with nanoprobes."

Janeway looked in the direction the EMH had gone. "We'll ask him later."

"I still think some kind of force field or dampening field is our best bet to cut Garrett off from whatever drones he's managed to create."

"Right," Janeway agreed. "If Garrett has managed to connect himself to the hive by the time we get there, we'll have to get into his base and find him in order to set up the dampening field around him. We have to be within, what, three meters of him?"

B'Elanna nodded, and then asked, "You don't know any more about this secret base of operations of his?"

Janeway shook her head. "Unfortunately, no."

The two women lapsed into silence for a moment before B'Elanna said, "I keep thinking about that time you and I were assimilated. Even after only being partially assimilated, I had nightmares about it for weeks."

"So did I," Janeway admitted quietly. After another moment of silence, she continued, "Garrett's experiments could easily kill Seven. For all we know, he wants to chop her up and use her Borg components for his project. And Chakotay…" She trailed off.

"Chakotay could become a drone in Garrett's collective," B'Elanna finished for her. "No. We won't let that happen, Captain."

Janeway buried herself in her work station. She was perfectly comfortable having a personal conversation when her role was to listen and offer advice. She was much less comfortable being the one doing the talking.

"When was the last time you spoke to Chakotay?" B'Elanna asked, trying a new tactic.

"I sent him a message when I took my leave."

"In person."

"The day he and Seven disembarked. I wished them both the best."

B'Elanna shook her head and turned her attention back to her work station. "I wonder how long it's going to take him to realize what a mistake that is," she murmured under her breath.

"It's not up to us to judge Chakotay's relationship choices," Janeway admonished gently.

"With all due respect, Captain, I've known him for a lot longer than you. I've seen him do this before, and it never ends well."

"Do what?"

"Chakotay has two kinds of women in his life. There are women like you, and me, and Sveta, and his sister, women who are not afraid to challenge him, argue with him, tell him he's being a p'tak."

This statement made Janeway smile genuinely for the first time in days. She chuckled, thinking about all the times both she and B'Elanna had argued with Chakotay or told him flat out that he was wrong. "And the other kind?"

"The women he needs to fix, like Seska." B'Elanna paused. "Or Seven."

"Seven doesn't need fixing; she's quite capable of taking care of herself and more than willing to argue with Chakotay, or anyone else, for that matter."

"But she's young, inexperienced. I've seen them together. He's 'showing her the ropes' of dating, and he's enjoying being her 'teacher.' That's because Chakotay is a good, kind man, and because he is a great teacher; it's one of his natural talents. Why do you think he was so valued at the Academy? But it doesn't belong in dating. Those relationships don't last, or they end badly. Just look at what happened with Seska. Seven's well intentioned, I'm sure, but they're still going to end up hurting each other, or being unhappy, one way or another."

Janeway was looking at B'Elanna with a puzzled expression. As well as she knew Chakotay, somehow this had never occurred to her. And she had a hard time reconciling B'Elanna's statement with what Admiral Janeway had told her about Chakotay and Seven's relationship. "I don't think we can ever truly know how relationships will work out," she said.

B'Elanna turned her gaze back to the captain, studying her, trying to figure out what the older woman was thinking. She opened her mouth to reply to Janeway's cryptic statement, but before she could utter a word, Tuvok's voice came through the comm. "Tuvok to Janeway. We are about to run a simulation to test our latest hypothesis about the neural transceiver."

"I'm on my way," Janeway replied, and hurried to the forward compartment. B'Elanna watched her go, and wondered what her true thoughts were about Chakotay's relationship with Seven. She could only hope that one of them would ever have the chance to talk to him about it.

In spite of having led a dangerous life, Chakotay had never spent time in prison. He had successfully evaded both the Federation and the Cardassians as a Maquis, and his Starfleet days had never seen him incarcerated, either. Sitting in Admiral Garrett's brig now was possibly the most frustrating experience of his life. He had nothing but time, and felt completely helpless. He received two meals a day from one of the security guards. He had tried repeatedly to engage the guards in conversation, but they refused to speak to him. He tried to pass time by doing push-ups, shadow-boxing, and sleeping, but his sleep was restless, and he could only exercise for so long on the meager meals he was given. Chakotay had never felt so alone.

It had been three days, by his count, since Seven had been taken away by Admiral Garrett. He worried about her and wondered what Garrett was doing to her. Was he dissecting her for her Borg technology? Had he somehow found a way to manipulate her mind? Was he torturing her? What was Garrett's evil plan and why had the two of them been kidnapped? He had tried to find some way to escape from his cell, but he was being too well watched, and he had realized on the second day that his efforts at escape were wasted.

As he lay on the bed in the darkened cell under the watchful eye of the night guard, he found his thoughts drifting. He thought about his friends, the men and women he had served with in the Maquis who had followed him through the Delta Quadrant on Voyager. He thought about his family, his cousin in Ohio with whom he had so recently reunited, and his sister, who had promised to make her way from Trebus for a visit as soon as she could. He thought about Tuvok, and wondered how his treatment was going. He wondered how Harry and the Doctor were adjusting to life back at home, and he thought about Neelix so far away in the Delta Quadrant with Dexa and Brax. He thought about Tom and B'Elanna and little Miral and knew that if anyone would be suspicious of his disappearance, regardless of what official excuse Garrett had come up with, it would be them.

And then, in spite of himself, his thoughts turned to Kathryn. He wondered anew at the reason for her sudden leave of absence from Starfleet and her lack of communication since their arrival home. He realized, lying in that cell, utterly alone, that he might never see her again, and the thought disturbed him. Would she ever know what had happened to him? Would she ever understand how much he had missed her? He felt his heart fill with regrets, doubts and memories, and he tried to push them away, to let his mind go blank. He tried to find a place of calmness within, a state from which he could contact his spirit guide, even without the aid of an akoonah, but peace eluded him. He dozed in and out of a troubled sleep throughout the night.

The next morning, instead of the expected ensign with a bland breakfast in hand, he was roused by two men in security uniforms holding phaser rifles. "Get up," one of them ordered.

"Why should I?" Chakotay retorted.

"Time to go," the man replied roughly. "You're coming with us."

Chakotay moved slothfully, sitting up and taking time to run his hands through his hair. "Where are we going?" he asked. "I have to make sure I'm appropriately dressed."

"Move it, Commander," the guard said, using his title like an insult. "We don't have all day. Quit your small talk."

Chakotay continued to move painstakingly slowly, enjoying the opportunity to defy his captors until one of them deactivated the forcefield while the other rushed into his cell, hitting him hard in the gut with the butt of his phaser rifle. "Oof!" Chakotay stumbled as the blow hit him. Recovering, he rose up angrily, ready to launch himself at the guard who had struck him.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Commander," said the other security guard. He had his rifle trained on Chakotay, and the commander stood down. "Now, come with us."

"Where are you taking me?" Chakotay asked, but neither of the guards would answer. "How can you consider yourselves Starfleet officers?" Chakotay asked them as they marched him through the corridor and into the turbolift. "Is this what you trained for? Why you went through the Academy? So you could follow some crazy admiral and imprison fellow officers? Subject them to who knows what kind of torture?"

"We're just following orders, sir," one of the guards replied.

"Don't you ever think about what you're doing? Ask a question? Wonder if it's right?"

Neither of the guards responded as they marched him out of the turbolift and down another corridor. Finally they arrived at their destination, and they herded Chakotay into a sickbay. Chakotay looked around and saw Seven lying on one of the biobeds, her feet and hands restrained. "Seven!" he cried, and lunged towards her, but before he could get very far, there was a phaser rifle in his face, blocking his path and the two guards held his arms.

"Thank you for joining us, Commander Chakotay," said Admiral Garrett as he emerged from an office behind Seven's biobed.

"What have you done to her?" Chakotay demanded, still straining towards Seven.

"Seven of Nine has not been harmed," said another man in a white lab coat who exited the office behind Garrett. "It took us a few days to get the reprogramming just right, but now I have succeeded, and we're ready to proceed."

"Dr. Zupanich has taken very good care of your precious Seven," Garrett added. "Now, it's time for you to join her in the good doctor's care."

Seven seemed to fade into consciousness, because Chakotay saw her turn her head and meet his eyes. "No, Chakotay!" she said. "Don't let them touch you."

The she turned her attention to Zupanich. "Don't touch him!"

"You made our job so much easier, Seven of Nine," Garrett said. "I would have used one of my men as a test subject had you been alone that night when we came to bring you to us. But Commander Chakotay will make a much better test subject, don't you think?"

"No!" Seven cried again. Chakotay watched as she attempted to struggle against her restraints.

"That's too bad," said Garrett, continuing in his patronizing tone. "Dr. Zupanich and I think the commander is ideal. Don't we, Doctor?"

"Yes, Admiral," Zupanich replied.

"After all, the commander has been linked to a hive mind before." Garrett fixed his gaze on Chakotay. "Haven't you, Chakotay?"

Chakotay felt his stomach drop. So Garrett was planning to link him and Seven somehow. "When Starfleet finds you, you'll be put in prison for the rest of your life," he told Garrett.

"I doubt that, Commander, very much," replied the admiral in an arrogantly smug tone. The admiral then nodded to the two guards still flanking Chakotay.

"Get on the biobed," one of them said, gesturing with his phaser rifle to the bed next to Seven.

"No," Chakotay replied.

"Obey or I will shoot you," said the guard.

"Chakotay, do what he asks," Seven said. "Unfortunately, in this case, resistance is futile. Their weapons can temporarily paralyze you. If you do not get on the biobed, they will force you."

Reluctantly, Chakotay climbed onto the biobed next to Seven, his eyes darting around the room, from Seven, to the guards, to Zupanich and Garrett. Seven was right; they were outmanned and outgunned. He could follow Garrett's orders or risk injury to himself or Seven. Once he was on the biobed, strong restraints closed around his wrists and ankles. "Seven, have they hurt you?" he asked, relieved to at least be able to see and speak to her.

"I have suffered no permanent damage," she replied, "but…"

"Shut up!" Garrett snarled. "No talking." He turned to the doctor. "Dr. Zupanich, are you ready to begin the procedure?"

"I'm ready, Admiral," said Zupanich. He approached Chakotay's biobed with a hypospray. "These are modified nanoprobes," he said as if he was explaining a routine medical procedure. "I am going to inject them into your bloodstream. They are programmed to make their way directly to the brain and begin rewriting your neural pathways. You are our first human test subject, Commander. Congratulations."

Chakotay began to fight against the restraints holding him down. He thrashed his head from side to side, trying to block the doctor's access to his neck.

"There's no need to be afraid, Commander," said Zupanich in an eerily soothing tone. "You and Seven of Nine will merely be the first members of a new type of collective. All your old worries, your individual concerns, your personal problems, will fade away. They will be replaced by the clarity of one mind, one thought, and one set of commands." Chakotay continued to struggle, but Zupanich pressed his hand down onto the side of his head, forcing one side of his face against the biobed. "Your life is going to be so much simpler now." Zupanich pressed the hypospray to the side of Chakotay's neck.

"No!" Seven was shouting. "Don't do this to him. Choose another test subject, please. Don't do this to him."

Chakotay felt a sharp sting where the hypospray had made contact with his skin, and then a searing, white-hot pain raced up his neck and through his temple. He cried out in pain and could feel the restraints cutting into his wrists and ankles as he fought against them. White spots began to appear in his vision, and he cried out again. Then he heard the hiss of another hypospray, which dulled the pain and lulled him into a deep sleep.

Kathryn drummed her fingers against the side of the bed as she lay restlessly in one of the bunks on the Delta Flyer. She hadn't slept for forty-eight hours, and she knew she had to get some rest, but her mind was racing, and she was having a hard time falling asleep.

They were still at least five days from the coordinates that Braxton had given her, even at maximum warp. They were spending their days running simulations. What if Garrett did this? What if Garrett did that? They had at least five different possible variants on a dampening field that could disrupt the connection between the nexus or central processor and the collective. In an actual Borg Collective, this would be the hive's link with the queen. Janeway suspected that in Garrett's case, he would want to function as the central processor himself. The Doctor's expertise with reprogramming nanoprobes would also no doubt be useful, but reprogramming nanoprobes took time, and Janeway didn't think time was a luxury they were going to have. The truth was, they wouldn't know what they were up against until they arrived. And by the time they found Garrett's secret base, they might already be too late.

No, she thought. She wouldn't allow herself to think that way. They would be successful. They had to be. She hadn't brought Seven back to her humanity and returned her to a life on Earth so she could be dissected and abused by an insane, power hungry admiral. Kathryn felt her eyes well with tears at the thought. She was so proud of the young woman that Seven had become. She couldn't bear to think that Seven's newly found individuality could be cut short so soon and so cruelly.

Nor could she bear the thought of Chakotay as one of Garrett's army of drones. Like B'Elanna, she had been thinking back on the terror of their brief, partial assimilation. She still had the occasional nightmare about the Collective's voice in her head, still occasionally was beset by the irrational fear of losing her individuality and being forced to perform heinous acts by a collective consciousness, stripped of her ability to decide her own values and her own course of action.

Kathryn knew that Chakotay feared this just as much as she did. Although he had never said it aloud, she had always suspected that this fear was part of the reason he had objected so strongly to keeping Seven on board Voyager in the first place. Whether by assimilation or his inherited 'crazy gene,' Kathryn knew that one of Chakotay's greatest fears was losing control of his mind.

Her thoughts about Chakotay led her back to B'Elanna's statement about his relationships with women. She thought back over the time she had known him. There had not been many women in his life over the past seven years, but B'Elanna was right— each one had been a woman who needed to be saved or educated or "fixed", from Seska to Riley Frasier. And, she could see how Seven might fit that pattern, too. For the first time since their arrival home, she considered the possibility that Seven and Chakotay's relationship might not be set in stone in this timeline. It seemed that they had had a happy relationship in the admiral's world, but there was no guarantee of that in this universe, even if they both came out of this situation alive and well.

Kathryn shook her head, trying to discard the possibilities these ideas generated in her mind. There was only one important thing right now, and that was stopping Garrett and getting Chakotay and Seven back safe. Any other possibilities would have to be dealt with later. Focusing her mind on the image of Chakotay and Seven both safe aboard the Delta Flyer, Kathryn Janeway finally fell into a troubled sleep.