Chapter Eight

Fleet Admiral O'Shaughnessy tapped a large, black-booted foot on the side of his chair.

"Well?"

Admiral Montoya simply shook his head.

"You have no information on Commander Chakotay's whereabouts."

"No, sir, not as yet. But we will find him."

"It doesn't matter. Someone is feeding him information, someone on the inside."

"What could he possibly know?" said Montoya, somewhat derisively.

Admiral O'Shaughnessy returned a cold gaze. "He could know the truth." He rose and walked away slowly from his round window. "Or he could know how to find Kathryn Janeway."

"Kathryn Janeway, as I believe you mentioned yourself, is no longer a threat."

There was a pause. "I'm not sure."

"Sir, she has no friends, no allies. She might as well –"

"She has Apocrypha. I don`t like to admit it, but I`ve come round to your way of thinking about those people. It may be tempting enough, but underestimating one's enemies is a cardinal sin. Look at this."

Admiral Montoya took the computer pad given him, read it, and pursed his thick lips. "What is this?"

"The Cassandras. They've been recruiting, altering the physiology of others in order to expand their collective."

Admiral Montoya's face was ghostly white. "Seven of Nine."

"Yes," hissed O'Shaughnessy, "She is lost to us now. We have lost control, Admiral. First Chakotay, and now this. Apocrypha must be stopped, and the Cassandras terminated."

Montoya's black eyes widened. "I don't understand this," he said. "I thought they would come to an end on their own."

"Apparently the famous death-wish isn't as strong as we thought. Or they're simply making a game of it. Either way, it ends now."

"We have no weapons."

"If we cut them off from the biohazard, they won't survive. It's the only way."

Slowly, Montoya nodded.

Admiral O`Shaughnessy was not a young man. His hair was entirely gray, yet it was still thick, and carefully combed. His features, though faded, were rather handsome, and he had very pale eyes which seemed to take in everything and reflect very little.

"This isn't the first time we've destroyed what we've created, " he said, "and it may not be the last. But the Ultimate Starfleet Officer project will succeed. I know the Cassandras were your brainchild, Peter, and I'm sorry, but we have to know when to cut our losses and move on. These women have become a threat, when once they were simply machines, instruments of our own design. The very thing that made them great – their humanity - will ultimately destroy them. But that can`t be a concern of ours any longer. It is our prerogative, our duty even, to build, and take apart, and rebuild again. "