Episode One - Crazy Old Man

Chapter 4
Bigger Problems

Senior Chief Petty Officer Mahesh Paswan day-dreamed of having multiple hands like one of the Trimurti as a boy. He was not religious, never had been, and none of his family followed the ancient traditions of their people. He barely followed the traditions of family dinner. Still, he liked the idea of Vishnu and regretted that no matter how he channeled the idea of preservation, the Defiant was just not going to put itself back together.

And, also, he only had two hands. He would have liked a few extra at the moment.

He could have had, but things weren't so desperate that he wanted a Romulan's help. Her Reman attendant was in sickbay, and certainly not an engineer like her file proclaimed. If he ever needed to blow up the Defiant, he knew who he'd ask.

Ensign Vorik shook his head, an impassively grim bend to his otherwise aloof expression. "The warp core is maintaining pressure of twenty-five-hundred kilopascals."

"But why the hell is it doing that?" Mahesh hadn't meant to say that out loud. He wasn't used to being acting-chief, but at the moment it was him, Vorik, and Ballard. Him, his fifteen years of hands-on engineering experience, Vorik, and Ballard—three years between the two of them, and all of those concentrated in Vorik. Vorik had opened his mouth to answer when Mahesh snapped, waving one of his hands in a preemptive gesture to shut up. "Don't answer that. Ensign Ballard?"

The bright-eyed ensign, blond and valiantly trying to make up for her lack of experience with optimism and teachability, stepped up to the central console. "Yes? Yes, sir?"

"I want you to go, go down to the injectors and visually inspect." Mahesh waved again, this time in the direction of one of the hatches down to the second level of engineering. Even if he had more than two hands, he'd just use the extras to gesticulate more aggressively, wouldn't he? "Go, go!"

He cursed as Ballard ran across the room.

"Visually, Ballard! Not the sensor readouts!" he shouted as she pulled up the hatch cover. "Vorik." Yes, he decided sometime in the last three seconds that they were past honorifics. Vorik seemed to respond anyway. He probably appreciated the efficiency. "We have to release the pressure—without breaking the constrictors. We're dead if they do that."

"I trust you mean that metaphorically," he said, crossing the room as he did.

See, efficiency. A Vulcan could walk and sass at the same time. Sort of like his teenager. All the same, Mahesh snapped his fingers in Vorik's direction. "What are you doing? Contemplating the meaning of existence?"

Vorik picked up his pace, though at that point only two or three steps laid between him and his destination. "Sir, I'm not certain how—"

"Just very, very slowly."

"The constrictors are magnetic; they—"

"Vorik." Mahesh turned his eyes up to the ceiling very briefly. He was an ensign. He had three years' experience. He was trying, but he was a Vulcan. "You will not be known for your ability to reason creatively, I think."

Vorik huffed, and Mahesh didn't pause to point out that clear expression of frustration. He was a young Vulcan. "No, perhaps I will not."

Mahesh joined Vorik at his panel, and showed him the combination of fine-tuning the constrictors and slipping them off and on power to keep them in some strange place between open and shut, off and on, dead and alive. "There. See?"

"This is extremely counter to protocol."

"I know." Mahesh patted Vorik's shoulder, once, and he sighed again. "You can report me to the captain after we save the dilithium reaction."

"Sir, I am unfamiliar with this technique," he said, almost plaintively.

"You either work on this or we put the antimatter containment unit in your hands. Do you want to be responsible for an antimatter explosion or loss of warp speeds?" Both of them, dead. One of them, metaphorically.

Vorik swallowed, his vision shifting like glass before he focused on the console in front of them. He nodded.

"Vorik." Mahesh waited the half second for him to raise his eyes. "I trust you."

Mahesh left the constrictors in Vorik's dexterous hands—anyone else would have been shaking uncontrollably, probably—and went back to the mystery of why the pressure wasn't releasing on its own. He tapped his combadge. "Paswan to Worf."

No answer.

"Laanat hai." Any problem with the comms system would have to be addressed later.

While Vorik worked on releasing the pressure, Mahesh was tied up in keeping everything else aligned and contained. Antimatter containment was a tricky thing on a normal day—but what day was normal in space?

This was his specialty, anyway. It was why he was here with Defiant. She wasn't quite as sticky as one of those Vulcan science vessels—he'd gotten to observe on one of those for six months ten years ago, and damn—but the fine control that let Defiant be quick and powerful also made her volatile. Like Natalia.

He'd think about her later. Hopefully when they were about seventy-five-thousand lightyears closer to home.

It felt like hours later, but was possibly only a few minutes that Ballard spoke in his ear. "Chief?"

Mahesh didn't know what the correct address was anymore. He just tapped his combadge. "Yes?"

"Sir, I think I found it. I think," Ballard said a moment later. "Every single injector's calibration seems to have shifted about a third of a percent. The diagnostics aren't seeing it, though."

"Oh? Tricorder?"

"Yes, sir."

Mahesh left the dilithium crystal chamber on standby to buy himself a few minutes and registered the wavering decline in warp core pressure while Vorik worked, steadily but slowly, on the other side of the room. "Can you adjust them?"

"I think so," she said.

"Good. Get started." He tapped his combadge and, with a sigh, watched the fight continue. He'd just have to toss all his eggs in one basket. A few injectors that far out of sync wouldn't be a problem—but all of them sure would. It was the only thing that made sense. "Vorik, forget that. Go help Ballard."

"Yes, sir."

Mahesh watched Vorik take a half-step back from the console, pressing his shaking hands into the edge before averting his eyes.

"I think we'll be out of the woods," Mahesh said, though he wasn't sure.

Vorik didn't respond, but ran across Engineering and opened the hatch to the ladder below. Possibly contemplating the meaning of existence on the way.

Mahesh tapped his combadge again. "Paswan to Chakotay."

Again, nothing.

Even though she didn't say anything, Mahesh somehow felt T'Rul smirk across the room. "That doesn't concern you?"

"I have bigger concerns right now." Mahesh tapped the back of his fingers against the console in mild frustration. But even now he could see that the work Ballard and Vorik were doing was having an effect. They really were out of the woods.

Seventy-five-thousand light years away from the woods they should have been in, but out of these woods, anyway.

"If you're so bugged about it, why don't you go up to the bridge and see for yourself?"

T'Rul seemed less amused about that, but she nodded. Reached for the communicator on her belt that looked almost a century out of place to Mahesh with his combadge, and spoke into it. "Sulla."

"Mistress."

"The bridge has been out of contact for the past ten minutes or so." She looked up at Mahesh, her harsh brows looking even more intense than usual. "Please investigate."

"Yes, Mistress."

T'Rul hesitated, as though that was not all she wanted to say. She eyed Mahesh, and he got the sense he was somehow eavesdropping on his own ship. Finally, she added, "Use force only if necessary," and clipped the communicator back to her belt.

Mahesh glanced once toward the door, and then back at T'Rul. "You think there's something untoward going on up there?"

"I think I'd rather be certain."

Mahesh went back to work, but only for a moment. "So, Sulla's not an engineer…"

She smiled. Damned unsettling. "Sulla is whatever I want her to be."

#

Tuvok found consciousness again, but kept his eyes closed and ensured his telepathic defenses were in place. He'd gotten more practice with it over the past months, with Mister Suder always somewhere probably probing nearby minds. Tuvok doubted Mister Suder had the control or genetic ability to do much more than that, and it was good for everyone if that was true. Either way, Tuvok's own control and defense worked even when he was unconscious.

Tuvok noted he was bound, hands and feet, but he was otherwise unrestrained. He could speak if he wished, and he didn't think he'd been drugged.

Readying himself to face whatever he saw, Tuvok opened his eyes.

The Defiant bridge was calm and still under Thomas's commanding eye. Commander Worf sat straight and unmovable in the chair at tactical, otherwise alive and well. Dax appeared to still be unconscious at the science station, as was Chakotay slumped in the captain's chair.

Tuvok glanced at Suder, his feet propped up on the console at ops. At Tuvok's turn of attention, he smiled, eyes closed. Otherwise, he didn't react. Paris, the Maquis at conn, picked at his nails.

"Welcome back." Tuvok glanced up and over his shoulder at a firm pat from Ayala, next to him. "You feeling okay? Headache?"

Tuvok straightened, put his attention squarely on Chakotay in front of him. "Since I doubt your concern for my well-being is genuine, I see no point in responding."

Thomas smiled at him. "Come on, Tuvok. I thought we were friends." He pushed away from the wall near Worf to meander toward Tuvok nearly threateningly, phaser in hand. "Though, of course, that was before I knew you were a spy."

Tuvok eyed Thomas, and considered his options. Honesty was preferred, perhaps for precisely such situations. It no longer mattered what Tuvok said, because Thomas would have reason to disbelieve him. "Though I doubt it would matter to you," Tuvok said, "while my actions have seemed dishonest, I have never directly lied to you."

"Yes, I'm sure you were very careful." Thomas nodded toward Suder in the corner as he crossed the bridge and knelt before him. He rested his hand on Tuvok's knee, phaser pointed directly at his chest. "But here's the thing: I don't really care."

"Reasonable." Tuvok removed his eyes from Thomas's, and took the next second to fold up and put away the terror shredding his organs. Fear of death was illogical: it was never a matter of if, and only a matter of when. Death in the line of duty with Starfleet was always a possible outcome.

Thomas tapped his knee twice with his fist, and stood. "Right now, we are so fucking far away from the battle lines, we're practically on the same side. We need your help."

That… was surprising. Tuvok looked up, relief loosening the compressive strain on his lungs. "What would compel me to assist you in your commandeering the Defiant?"

"The alternative is stranding us seventy-five-thousand lightyears away from where we started."

Tuvok considered. That would be unfortunate. He glanced at Worf, occupying himself in giving Tuvok a dangerous glare. Being seen as a liar certainly did complicate matters significantly… "Please explain," he said, for little other reason than to buy time.

"Simply put: if that array is what brought us here, we think it can send us back." Thomas pointed at the viewscreen, as if Tuvok needed the demonstration to recall the alien station outside the G-type star system that had performed biometric assessments on the crew of the Valjean. Likely the same had been done to the Defiant crew.

Tuvok turned his attention back to Thomas before he could continue. "However, the alien commanding the array does not plan to return us to the Alpha Quadrant."

"Your deductive powers continue to be more useful than a tricorder." Thomas smiled, tight-lipped.

Tuvok arched an eyebrow, but couldn't see how that figured into their conversation. "I assume you have more evidence than simple deduction."

Suder raised a hand without opening his eyes. "Did a little investigating while you were napping. Our friend over there never intended to return his laboratory specimens to the corner of the galaxy he got them from."

Thomas hoped that Tuvok could discover a way to reverse the process by which they'd been delivered here. The universal translator installed in all of their heads was of limited utility when faced with precise machinery and alien coding. Tuvok had experience, though limited, in manipulating systems he was unfamiliar with to usually beneficial outcomes.

"I'm sure you know none of the Maquis really have the expertise and knowledge you have," Thomas said. "I was thinking with Dax's help, you could get us out of here."

Tuvok looked at Worf again, saw Dax begin to shake off the effects of the stun with a mild groan. Worf was apparently doing his best to wordlessly warn Tuvok that defecting would surely result in his death, probably at Worf's hands. Tuvok had no doubt that was the case.

"We don't have a lot of time," Thomas added.

Tuvok frowned. "And the limiting factor is?"

Suder kicked off the console and rose, his black eyes focusing on the prize of his straight and aggressive stride. "Death," Suder said, leaning over him.

"Specifically," Thomas said, "the alien on the array. Old age, I'm guessing. You want to lay off the dramatics, Suder? Damn."

With a grin that bared his teeth, Suder tapped his finger into Tuvok's chest. "That Vulcan control doesn't crack, does it?" He leaned in close, his warm breath slipping past Tuvok's ear. "I've wanted to see what goes on in there for months…"

Tuvok didn't move, and shored up his defenses—didn't blink when two of Suder's fingers passed briefly over the touch-points on his cheek. "This is hardly less dramatic, Mister Suder."

"What's going on?"

Tuvok felt a new relief filling his lungs with his next breath when Chakotay spoke. Thomas gave Chakotay an irreverent salute in the style of some old Human military while Suder drew away. Tuvok didn't believe that Chakotay would be able to lend any stability to the situation, but he might draw away some of the attention. Tuvok needed to think.

"Welcome back to the world, Captain," Thomas said with a deferential nod. "And, Dax. Sorry about that. How you doing?"

"Oh, fine." Tuvok heard the sarcasm lance her tone, and saw her shift as if more physically uncomfortable than psychologically. "Waking up trussed like a hunted targ is one of my favorite things."

Tuvok saw Worf's expression change slightly, and he wondered if that was supposed to be some sort of sideways communication, a signal of some kind. Engaging in any sort of unarranged plan with a Betazoid in attendance was highly unlikely. Tuvok had no way of warning any of them that Suder was just as likely to kill any of them with no warning and for no reason. He was a shockingly effective killer of Cardassians, even if not efficient. He savored his vocation like some Humans relished the taste of chocolate.

Thomas, though, smiled at Dax somewhat softly. Tuvok couldn't imagine he would mistake her femininity for weakness. "Well, not that I wouldn't like to discuss that in more detail, but I'd like to skip the part where you try to wile your way out of your bonds."

"Skip to what?" Dax asked.

"The part where we work together to get out of this mess."

Chakotay scoffed. "And then what?"

Thomas shrugged. "I'm flexible. We could kill only some of you as opposed to all of you. The point is that none of us Maquis can work with the technology over on that array to get us back. And, while sitting on the command deck of the Defiant is really cool on its own, it's not really doing me much good all the way out here. So how about a compromise?"

"There is no compromise," Worf said, "if you want to take the Defiant."

Thomas nodded, as if maybe that wasn't exactly the case. "What do you think, Chakotay?"

"I think it doesn't matter," Chakotay mumbled. Tuvok wondered if he was really as discouraged as he sounded, or if it was some kind of ruse. "How do we know the alien on the array will even let us modify his technology?"

Tuvok looked to Thomas, who looked at Ayala. "He does keep sending us back," Ayala offered. "We might want to think about what we'll do when he doesn't let us mess with his stuff."

"We require information," Tuvok said, quietly, to Suder's apparent delight that he'd decided to speak. "Unless we desire to leave our missing crew here, we must first locate them. I believe B'Elanna may be helpful in modifying the array."

"I can agree to that," Thomas said.

Tuvok gave a demure nod. "However, I will not assist unless you guarantee the crew's safety."

Thomas frowned. "I'm sure nobody wants to hurt anyone, but you aren't in a position to negotiate."

Tuvok cast a glance in Chakotay's direction. He should have been the one speaking, as the officer of rank, but he wasn't. He was slumped in the captain's chair, apparently contemplating his shackled wrists in silence. Thomas hadn't looked at him once.

With a small nod, Tuvok had to agree. "If you believe you alone are capable of returning the Defiant to the Alpha Quadrant, that is correct." He glanced at Suder.

Tuvok hoped Thomas understood the look to be indicative of the rest of his crew. The majority of the Valjean's crew was, at this point, intended primarily to take the Defiant by force. Perhaps four of their number had knowledge enough to return the Defiant to the hands of those who could make more efficient use of it. Tuvok was not confident in their ability to modify a wholly alien system, and he assumed Thomas had similar opinions.

Thomas sighed. "Alright. Goal number one is to get B'Elanna back."

"And Julian, Kim, and the Reman," Dax said.

Thomas shrugged. "Let's just hope they're all being held in the same place." Thomas then turned to Suder. "Did you ask where they are?"

"I had other things on my mind," Suder said. "They weren't on the array, so I'll give you three guesses."

"May I?" Dax turned toward the science console before her, holding up her hands in the obvious request to be set free. "We know the pulses from the array are aimed at the fifth planet in the nearby system. So let's take a look at it."

Ayala crossed the bridge to stand next to her. "I hope I don't need to tell you it's a game of roulette whether Suder's phaser is set to stun or kill." Suder looked at his phaser's display as if he didn't even know.

Dax smiled, sarcastically. "I just want to look. No funny business." When Ayala loosed her wrists, she held both her hands up to demonstrate her harmlessness.

Tuvok doubted the veracity of that implication, though he wasn't sure why.

Dax worked quickly, reporting as she went. "As Mister Suder suggested, it is possible that those pulses from the array were used to transport your engineer and the others to the planet." Ayala leaned over Dax's shoulder to watch, and Dax looked confused. "The interval between each pulse has decreased by point-four-seven seconds since we've arrived."

"They're getting faster?" Thomas frowned. "I wonder why that is."

"No idea." Dax pulled up the planet's vital statistics. Tuvok could see the golden globe from here, mottled with dark brown rocks, cracked like old pottery. "That fifth planet is a desert—no oceans or rivers. It looks like it has all the basic characteristics of an M-class planet, except…" That was when Tuvok realized the computer image wasn't compensating for any clouds—it was a live image. "There are no nucleogenic particles in the atmosphere."

"Excuse me?" Thomas looked at Dax, as if almost offended.

"The planet is incapable of producing rain," Tuvok said.

"Exactly. I've never seen anything like it," Dax agreed. "There must have been one hell of an environmental disaster for this to happen."

Nobody else seemed all that concerned with the scientific discovery this represented. Tuvok might have been interested, tangentially, under other circumstances, but didn't have time for that at the moment.

"Alright." Thomas looked at Chakotay, and then everyone on the bridge seemed to jump out of their skin as the comm on the back door spoke to them.

Tuvok didn't jump. He hadn't been expecting it, but to be startled under these circumstances seemed ridiculous.

"Attention bridge: you have been out of contact for ten minutes. We will assume your death or hostile intent should you not reply. You have one minute."

Thomas glanced at Chakotay, immediately removing the binds on his wrists. Chakotay tapped the panel at his arm. "That won't be necessary. Please standby. We're experiencing…" Chakotay hesitated, but didn't look at Thomas. He didn't look at anyone.

Tuvok adjusted his expectations and watched.

"We're working on some malfunctions in here. We'll have it fixed soon."

"You have five minutes," the voice said. "If you are unable to open the door, I will utilize explosives to gain access myself."

Chakotay laughed in obvious disbelief, and Tuvok had to admit to some amount of shock himself. Though, perhaps, had Dax managed to send a message to someone else in the ship that the Defiant had been commandeered?

"That's really not necessary, Sulla," Chakotay said. "We'll let you in. In five minutes."

With that, Chakotay turned his attention to Thomas. "Cut them loose." At Thomas's hesitation, he added, "Unless you'd rather be gutted by a Reman assassin in about five minutes."

"Reman," Thomas mumbled, but nodded to Ayala.

It wasn't enough evidence, but Tuvok couldn't help but wonder: why was Thomas taking Chakotay's orders? Was Chakotay one of them?

Tuvok pinched out the flicker of anger and focused.

Ayala released Tuvok, then cautiously did the same to Worf. Worf only rubbed his wrists, looking to Chakotay for guidance. Chakotay made a placating gesture with one hand as he tapped the panel again. "Sulla? We're opening the door. We have guests, so don't panic."

"I don't panic," came the response.

The door opened, and a female Reman stepped onto the bridge. Tuvok had never seen one before, and found her appearance rather unsettling: ashen skin with a snubbed nose and bat-like ears. She walked with the elegance of a Romulan and the power of a le-matya.

"Welcome to the bridge," Chakotay said, rising and watching her prowl the perimeter.

Sulla stepped up to Chakotay, ever so slightly taller than he was and looked down to find his eyes with her wide yellow ones. "You will find subterfuge is ineffective against me," she said, and lifted her hand to rest against Chakotay's chest. "As well as most things."

Chakotay shook for a moment, sounded like he was gagging. Tuvok didn't much care if he was one of the Maquis or not. He rose at nearly the same time Worf did.

"She's not hurting him," Suder said, though it was too late.

Worf had ripped Sulla from her feet while Tuvok placed himself between Chakotay and the Reman now recovering from hitting the wall.

Sulla rose with force, but did not strike Worf, to Tuvok's surprise. Instead, she took a step to breathe directly into Worf's face. "I would like to continue this contest at another time, Klingon. In the meantime, my mistress has forbade the use of force."

"Then what the hell were you doing to him?" Thomas demanded.

"Determining why all of you are lying," she said, and cast another glance around the room. She lingered on Tuvok, and then eyed Suder as well.

Tuvok had no doubt an entire conversation passed between them in the first moments they gazed at one another, a carnivorous smile growing on Suder's face. Remans were, he remembered, touch-telepaths like Vulcans—though with genetic disposition and training they could be more. He didn't know whether Sulla had obtained either of those things, and shored up his own telepathic barriers once again.

Finally, Sulla broke off. "I have no interest in your petty bickering. Whether you, or you," she said, looking first to Chakotay, then to Tuvok, "gain command of the Defiant does not interest me—at least, not at present."

That, Tuvok thought, was more evidence. The only way he'd know for certain was if he interrogated Chakotay himself. Perhaps he could arrange that.

"Locating Marius is my mistress's first priority. I trust this will be taken into account?" Sulla said.

"Finding our missing crew is our top priority, Marius included," Chakotay said, raising a hand as if in reassurance, and tapped his combadge. "Chakotay to Engineering."

"Senior Chief Paswan here."

Chakotay hesitated, as though that was not the name he was looking for when he'd called. "I take it Commander Taussig didn't come back?"

"No, sir. He was killed," Paswan said, and sighed. "Ensign Vorik is the highest-ranking officer, but he's busy with repairs. What can I help you with?"

"Does the Defiant have impulse?"

"Yes."

"Thank you, Chief. Keep working and let us know if you need anything." Chakotay tapped his combadge again, and then looked at Riker. "I think we should run the Valjean with a skeleton crew, at least until we know what we're up against—and the Defiant could frankly use the help."

"Agreed." Riker looked at Ayala, who nodded. A wordless conversation had occurred between the two, as Tuvok had witnessed several times between them over the months he'd been with them. "Suder and I'll head down to Engineering," Riker said. "See if we can be useful."

"Alright," Chakotay nodded, and Thomas and Suder left just as Chakotay was taking his seat in the captain's chair. "Mister Tuvok, would you please beam over the Maquis from the Valjean as…" He held a hand out to Ayala, as if he didn't know his name.

Tuvok couldn't tell whether it was feigned ignorance or not. Either way, he was not beaming over any of the Maquis crew. "Captain, may I speak to you for a moment?" He looked at Ayala. "In private?"

Chakotay looked at Ayala, too, but rose. "Sure. My office. Mister Worf, you have the bridge."

Tuvok followed Chakotay to his office, bracing himself for what he expected he would have to do—telepathically assaulting a commanding officer would come with some serious consequences, especially if he was wrong. He was certain he could logically justify his actions at this point, and even more should Chakotay give unsatisfying answers.

Chakotay's office was very small, only large enough for the desk and accompanying chairs. They would need none of them. He turned to Chakotay. "We will not move any of the Maquis to the Defiant."

"Why not?"

Tuvok arched an eyebrow. Feigning ignorance on this point was more telling than it should have been. "You are aware they plan to commandeer the Defiant. The Defiant's crew has been reduced by a significant percentage, though not enough to preclude the short trip to the neighboring system."

Chakotay nodded, but didn't seem convinced.

"Sir." Tuvok straightened, and Chakotay raised his eyes again to meet Tuvok's. "Are you a Maquis sympathizer?"

"What? No." Chakotay took a step back, seeming insulted or afraid.

Unfortunately, Tuvok could not take his word for that. He followed Chakotay's steps until Chakotay ran out of room. "Mister Paris, arrested for his activities with the Maquis, was on the bridge and aware of my position as spy aboard the Valjean, showing you are either careless or harbor malicious intent." As an instructor at the Academy for Advanced Tactical Training, he found that difficult to believe. "You have deferred to Thomas in all command decisions."

"He was the one holding the phaser!" Chakotay said, nearly desperately flinging a gesture in the direction of the bridge. "You can't believe—"

"No, sir, I cannot believe you." He pressed Chakotay into the wall, despite the relatively weak struggle as compared to his own strength, and lifted a hand. "Are you a Maquis spy?" he asked again, and hoped Chakotay gave him the only reasonable answer there was.

"No!"

"Do not struggle."

"Lieutenant—!" Chakotay clawed at Tuvok's arm, tried to fight him off. The delay was only seconds. Chakotay reached for his combadge, and Tuvok snapped it off with a drag of his fingers. It clattered to the floor, and Tuvok ignored it.

Though Chakotay kicked and scratched, Tuvok forced him to the floor, laying his fingers across the commander's cheek. "My mind to your mind," he said past the strain of holding Chakotay still. "Your thoughts to my thoughts."

Chakotay sobbed, but he had obviously had very little training in withholding his mind from telepathic invasion, if any. "Lieutenant, I—"

"Are you a Maquis sympathizer?" Tuvok demanded again, and Chakotay could not avoid thinking the answer for him.

Yes. Yes, I am. The following thoughts to crystalize were various insults and curses of eternal torment and physical ruin. Complete shock and confusion that Tuvok was doing this at all.

But he was a security officer. He was a spy. More than either of those, he was an interrogator. He'd done this and more many, many times. Chakotay was naïve to think only a uniform could offer immunity. "Who else on board is with you?"

"No one!"

Tuvok dug deeper. Chakotay's father had joined the Maquis as well, and was killed by Cardassians nearly two years ago. Chakotay designed to join them in his honor. He'd reached out to the individual who delivered the news of his father's demise only six months ago.

God, no one, believe me, stop, Chakotay's voice in his head groaned. Get out.

There was no one else.

Stop, please, stop.

Tuvok pressed off, breaking the connection and watching Chakotay whip away from him. He braced himself on the floor, retching ineffectively.

"I regret the necessity," Tuvok said, and stood. The meld had only lasted seven-point-seven-four seconds, but he imagined it felt much longer for both of them. "However, the lives of the Defiant crew are at stake. You do not have their best interest in mind."

Chakotay coughed, groaned, and adjusted to rest against the wall. "Go to hell."

Tuvok looked around the room, and could not be uncomfortable. Of course, this far away from home, the centering people and places that kept him from becoming dangerous were out of reach. He could not return to any of the monasteries he once visited to recover from operations precisely like this one. He could not bring to mind the intense distress at causing anguish like that Chakotay felt now at having his thoughts under siege and mind offensively touched. Tuvok had to feel nothing at the knowledge he was inflicting this pain, and that, while logical, was morally repulsive.

The only places he could go for help were seventy-five thousand lightyears away.

It would make no difference if he allowed the entire Starfleet crew of the Defiant to be killed. He would address his dubious ethics at another time.

"Get out," Chakotay rasped. He hadn't risen—in fact, he'd bent even more severely to rest his forehead on his fists on the floor.

"Excuse me?"

"I said get out. Do whatever the hell you want, just get out."

Tuvok looked at the door for what might have seemed to Chakotay to be a long time. "Very well. However, I must insist that you not remain alone for long. An interrogative meld is a stressful—"

"Get out!" Chakotay's scream did what his orders may well never have done again.

Tuvok took a step back out of the door, and watched it close before him. He had no frame of reference for who to send to comfort Chakotay, since he'd only joined the Maquis six months ago and didn't seem to know anyone on board in the slightest. He didn't even know Thomas, despite their collaborative contact to take the Defiant together.

That would have to do. Tuvok rounded the corner to find the nearest comms panel, and tapped it. "Tuvok to Engineering."

"Engineering," Paswan replied.

"Mister Riker's presence is required on Deck One."

"Acknowledged."

The comms light dimmed again, and Tuvok waited for Thomas to appear from the turbolift. Less than a minute later, he did. "What's up?" Thomas asked, somehow having returned to his previous genial attitude toward him.

That wasn't likely to last much longer. "Chakotay is a Maquis sympathizer and traitor to the Federation." Thomas stared, as if in shock, but didn't deny it. "I cannot allow you and Chakotay to commandeer the Defiant, and was obliged to take what information I needed from his mind by force."

"Oh." Thomas huffed, looking at the door over Tuvok's shoulder, and grimaced. "You—?"

"I performed an adversarial mind-meld," he said, with a brief nod. "He will require support."

"Yeah, no shit." Thomas's look became livid. "I don't even know him," he said, obviously in spite of his growing anger. "What the hell am I supposed to do?"

"Ensure he does not injure himself." With a light sigh, Tuvok went to stand outside the door. "He may wish to speak about it. He may not. Responses vary widely."

Thomas shook his head. "Why me?"

"You are the closest thing to a friend he has on board."

Tuvok watched Thomas run both hands through his hair as he breathed, and requested entry. When there was no answer, he tried again. "Chakotay, it's Riker. Let me in."

After several seconds, Chakotay opened the door, and Tuvok went back to the bridge.