Cracks 08 With Murderous Intent Read online

  The Star Trek: Voyager premise and its characters belong to Paramount Studios, a Viacom company. No infringement on Paramount's or Viacom's rights is intended. Other stories in the series: Cracks in the Wall Clear as Mud Test of Faith Echo of a Nightmare Flight of Memory Inheritance Whither Are They Vanished? The Judgment of Karis

  "With Murderous Intent"

  by the P/T Collective

  " . . . so then Janine is rubbing sunscreen lotion all over my back, and we both can't stop laughing. I've got this glop all over my swim trunks and she's got it all over her suit. It's really embarrassing. Then Neelix comes over and asks us if we want dinner in this little gazebo he's got in his resort program. I've got sand all over me, sticking to this glop, and Janine's just told me that I must be the Sandman, and I can't talk I'm laughing so hard. I didn't want him to think I was laughing at him, but I can't even breathe, and . . . well, maybe it isn't that funny to you. Maybe you had to be there," lanky red-haired Ensign Ethan Simms smilingly whispered to his partner as they turned down the corridor of Voyager. At 0305 hours, deep into Gamma shift, it is always expected that anyone walking in the hallways is to speak as quietly as possible. That can be hard when one is on the edge of the giggles. Ensign Mikel Hudson smiled back. It was good to see a smile on Ethan's face again. "That vacation was just what you needed after Janine's getting lost in that Samhain Nebula, or whatever the captain called it, even if it were only on the holodeck." "Yeah, if we hadn't had that mess with Mrs. Karis Paris, we could have had our getaway sooner. I didn't mind, though. I was just happy to have Janine back. The time off could wait." "You never told me the details about your reunion with Janine after she and Lieutenant Paris tumbled out of that Other World and back onto Voyager, Ethe." The young security officer cleared his throat. "Well, Mik, some things just ought to remain private, you know?" "That good, huh?" This time there was no answer but a very broad smile. Hudson never did find out if Simms would have eventually answered his question. Some odd sounds further down the curving corridor drew the attention of both members of the security team. "Sounds like a scuffle of some kind," said Simms. His fellow security officer agreed with a quick nod and they hurried down the hallway. At the last juncture before Transporter Room 1, the two young men rounded the corner and saw a figure crouched over that of another. Even from that distance they could tell who the crouching figure was -- the snugly-fitting brown velour suit of Seven of Nine was easy to recognize. The figure on the floor was not so easy to identify. He was wearing the read and black of an officer in the command track, but until they got close they could not tell who it was. "Ensign Garvic!" breathed out Simms. The geologist had stayed in the background for the previous several months, doing his job, but joylessly. Not many of the crew particularly cared for him. Not after he'd lied about the crash of a shuttle, trying to blame it on a piloting error by Tom Paris when Garvic himself was responsible. He had been found out and reduced in rank from lieutenant to ensign. Now Garvic was lying very still. Too still. His chest did not seem to be rising and falling. Hudson was about to call for an emergency beam-out to Sickbay when Simms, checking out the fallen man, caught his partner's eye. Shaking his head, Simms whispered, "No hurry, Mik. Garvic can't be helped. His neck is broken." Looking up at the beautiful young woman who had been a part of the Borg Collective -- the real connected one, not any splinter group like those Voyager had met up with before -- Simms asked, "How did this happen, Seven?" "I have no idea. He was lying here when I came. He has ceased to function?" "Yes, Seven. Ensign Jack Garvic is dead." * * * * * Fifteen minutes later in Sickbay Captain Kathryn Janeway stood at the foot of Biobed 1, hands on hips, listening to the doctor give his report. Ethan Simms, Mikel Hudson and Seven of Nine hovered nearby. "There was nothing to be done," the emergency medical hologram concluded, surveying the still form of Jack Garvic. "It is a clean break. Even if I had been next to him when the incident occurred I doubt I would have been able to resuscitate him." He replaced his tricorder on the stand. "I'll get started on the autopsy as soon as Lieutenant Paris reports for his shift." Janeway nodded absently, her attention drawn to something else. She approached Garvic, and brushing away the brown hair from his collar, revealed a small red welt, dried blood and pus giving it a grotesque appearance. The doctor, Simms, and Hudson let out sounds of surprise. Seven cocked an eyebrow and stepped closer to examine it as the doctor whipped out his tricorder once more. Hudson whistled in amazement. "What IS that?" Neither Simms nor Seven could provide an answer, and the doctor concentrated his diagnostic wand on the unsightly protuberance. "Doctor?" demanded Janeway when no diagnosis seemed to be forthcoming. "Do you have an answer for us?" "I wish I did, Captain," the doctor said somberly, tapping at his medical instrument futilely. "The tricorder seems to be malfunctioning because according to it, Jack Garvic has just been resurrected!" "What?" Janeway snatched up another tricorder, only to be given the same diagnosis: Jack Garvic was alive! "Simms, check his pulse!" she ordered crisply. The security officer pressed two fingers against the side of Garvic's neck, and to be on the safe side, pressed an ear to the supposed dead man's chest, and checked his wrist. "No pulse, Captain. According to the five human senses, he's dead." "But not to the tricorder." Janeway glared at the misbehaving tricorder. "Doctor, get Lieutenant Torres down here to check out your instruments, and get started on that autopsy the minute Lieutenant Paris arrives. Don't use the instruments unless you're absolutely sure they aren't giving false readings. If you have to, replicate a stethoscope. Understood?" "Aye, Captain." "I'm calling a senior staff meeting. Simms, Hudson, Seven, you're with me. Doctor, contact me in the briefing room the minute you're done." * * * * * Lieutenant Tom Paris arrived in Sickbay to find the doctor and Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres standing over Garvic's body and arguing loudly. He paused in the doorway, wisely staying out of the conversation before cautiously entering the room. "Doctor, I am telling you, there is nothing wrong with these instruments!" B'Elanna snapped. She was valiantly trying to contain her temper; Tom recognized the signs immediately. "And, Lieutenant, I am telling YOU that this man is dead!" the doctor retorted, equally agitated. Considering the doctor was a hologram, Tom would normally have found this amusing, but the doctor's anger was directed at B'Elanna. "I have consulted all of the medical histories in the databanks and I assure you, there has never been a case where a human with this injury has survived! It is medically impossible!" B'Elanna took a deep breath and started to pace around the biobed, shaking her head as she walked. "Well, Doc, I don't know what else to tell you. I've run three diagnostics on all of these instruments and they all pass with flying colors." She stopped and stared at Garvic, her eyes boring into his still body, as if she could see straight through him to the molecular level and determine what was going on inside the man. Tom chose that moment to make his presence known. He slowly stepped forward to look at Garvic. He looked at the man who had nearly destroyed him, nearly taken away his future, his sanity, his life. He should have felt relief that the man was finally dead, but he didn't. There was too much about Jack Garvic that had reminded Tom of himself. Tom looked up at B'Elanna. "What's going on?" he asked quietly. His voice seemed to have a calming effect on the engineer, for which the doctor was grateful. For as much as he was known for his acerbic tongue, he did not enjoy butting heads with the half-Klingon. With a heavy sigh and a conciliatory nod towards the doctor she replied, "Well, for starters, we can't decide if Garvic is really dead or alive." "He looks pretty dead to me." The doctor smiled triumphantly while B'Elanna snorted, "Yeah, well, tell that to every piece of medical equipment in here." "So we have a mystery on our hands, do we?" Tom rubbed his hands together gleefully, enjoying himself far too much for both B'Elanna and the doctor's ta
stes. They glared at him in stereo and he took a small step back, his hands held up in front of him protectively. "Sorry," he drawled. "Just stating the facts." "What facts?!" B'Elanna growled. "Is he dead or is he alive?" Tom looked at the doctor questioningly. "Doc? If there's any possibility that he's still alive, I for one don't want to be doing an autopsy." The doctor harrumphed and crossed his arms. Shaking his head he muttered under his breath, "This man is dead. He couldn't possibly be alive." Tom gently touched his arm. "There was a time when you had pronounced me dead, but I came back to life." He grinned wickedly. "Fortunately," he gave B'Elanna a knowing look, "you had scheduled the autopsy for the following day. Maybe we need to do a little more investigating before we write Garvic off for good." They stared at him in stunned silence. How could they have forgotten when they had nearly lost Tom? The lieutenant called out to the computer, "Sickbay to Captain Janeway." "Yes, Lieutenant?" "There's a small problem. B'Elanna can't find anything wrong with the instruments, but the doctor says that there's no way he could have survived." "That is a problem. What about the autopsy?" The doctor answered her. "We've put the autopsy off until tomorrow. Though until I can do an autopsy, we won't be able to tell what 'damaged' him, as Seven would put it. Which is going to make solving the case rather difficult." "We'll just have to do our best, then. Janeway out." * * * * * The captain dropped her head into her hands. She knew she shouldn't think this way, but it almost seemed Garvic had caused more trouble than he was worth. He had always been a malcontent even before the incident with Tom. He had worked half-heartedly; he had never disobeyed orders, but she always got the impression that he wasn't really obeying them either. Now he couldn't even die like a Starfleet officer. She was puzzled over his death. So far they had found no weapons. The doctor wasn't even sure what had killed him. The only people who could even vaguely be considered witnesses were Seven, Simms, and Hudson. Somehow, she couldn't imagine any of them as a murderer, not even their Borg. Besides, Hudson and Simms had come onto the scene well after the dea -- the accident. Janeway rose from her chair and walked over to the replicator. "Computer, double espresso." A lot of rations for such a frivolity, but she had a feeling it was going to be a long night. * * * * * "Ouch!" "What did you do this time, Ethan?" "Banged my head. There isn't much room in here." "Jeffries tubes aren't exactly known for their space. I still can't figure out how we end up with these jobs." "Well, somebody has to do it. Besides, if we can find the weapon, we might have some clue about how Garvic might have died." "You mean, how he was 'damaged.' The doc hasn't proved that he's really dead yet, you know." "I don't see how he could be alive with no pulse. Well, I doubt we're going to find anything here." "You're probably -- Wait a sec, what's that?" "I don't know, Mikel. Looks like it's made of some kind of metal. Steel, maybe?" "Looks like it. It must have been some kind of tool. It looks like it's some kind of lever. Something maybe to help turn something?" "Hey, I think I've seen that somewhere. Like in a book or something." "Must have been a history book. I don't think this is exactly standard issue for starships." "Ethan, is that blood?" The two security officers looked at each other. "Let's get this to Tuvok." "Agreed." * * * * * "Come." Tuvok looked up to see Hudson and Simms rush into his quarters. Ethan had an old-fashioned tool of some sort in a secured container. Was that dried blood on the end? If he hadn't been Vulcan he would have been impatient. As he was, he merely raised his eyebrow. "Sir, we found this hidden in one of the Jeffries tubes," Hudson reported. "It appears that it could be the -- " "The weapon. Yes, I know," Tuvok said as if it were old news. "Sir?" Ethan questioned him, his own eyebrow raised. Without a word Tuvok walked over to the storage compartment in his office. He opened a drawer and pulled out a box which he set before the ensigns. "I wonder what one serves with wild goose?" Mikel asked wryly. "Excuse me? Oh, I see. A reference to the human term 'wild goose chase'. That would seem to be appropriate in this situation." "What better way to lead us off than to plant false bait?" In the box were four objects, all made of steel and all with dried blood on them. "Are there any more?" Hudson asked. "No. I have scanned the ship for objects made from this metal and these are all." "Well, it'll be pretty easy to find the real one, won't it?" Ensign Simms asked. "I mean, all we have to do is see which one has blood on it that matches Garvic's." "All of them do. And there are no other traces of DNA. I don't know how the culprit planted them, but he or she made sure we wouldn't know who it was." "And they've had us running all over the ship for hours. For all we know, they might have struck again!" Mikel said. "Ensign Jenny Delaney to Tuvok!" "Yes, Ensign?" "It's about Meg, sir. She's dead!" Hudson and Simms exchanged surprised glances which quickly turned grim. Tuvok, for his part, said calmly, "We're on our way, Ensign. Tuvok out." The security chief turned to the junior officers and requested, "Please accompany me to Ensign Delaney's quarters." The two nodded and proceeded to follow Tuvok out the door. It was a short walk to Jenny Delaney's quarters, just down the corridor and a right at the turbolift. Once they had reached their destination, Tuvok rang the chime. The door opened to reveal a hysterical Jenny Delaney, her face streaked with tears. "She's over on the bed! She was here when I got here! She hasn't moved; I can't find a pulse. Oh, my God!" The blonde dissolved into tears. Hudson took the bereaved girl gently by the arm and led her to the opposite end of her quarters, trying to soothe her, while Simms and Tuvok approached the body that was sprawled haphazardly on the bed. The junior officer surveyed the situation. The girl was immobile, her face pale, her limbs limp. Could it be possible that there was a murderer on board? His mind tuned out Jenny's crying and Ethan's words as he silently ran over a possible suspect list in his mind. His reverie was shattered when Tuvok announced, "Ensign Delaney is not dead." Three heads snapped around to look at him. "But there was no pulse, and she wasn't moving," replied a shocked Jenny. "Do any of you have a tricorder?" At Tuvok's request, Mikel produced the instrument he always carried with him on duty and handed it to the security chief. Tuvok quickly ran it over the girl's body. "As I suspected. Ensign Delaney has been injected with Asplistoxin, a drug that, in given in the correct dosage, does not cause death but the seeming illusion of it. We need to get her to Sickbay; however, I believe she will recover." Upon hearing this, the other Delaney sister collapsed onto the floor in yet another spell of tears, this time ones of joy. "Computer, I need a site-to-site transport," came Hudson's voice. "Four to beam from Ensign Delaney's quarters to Sickbay." The shimmering light enveloped them. A split second later, Jenny Delaney's quarters were empty. * * * * * In Sickbay, Tom groaned to himself. *Not another one! Sure, I haven't been around Meg much lately, but she's still my friend. At least Tuvok knows what's going on and how to revive them. Even if there is some risk involved, and it will take time to recover, they're not dead. Not that I would MIND if Garvic were dead.* Tom shook his head to clear his thoughts. *What are you thinking? Garvic's a person even if he did try to blame that accident on you. The question is, who's doing this?* He reached over to grab a tricorder as Meg appeared on the biobed. "Doctor," Tuvok spoke up, " I believe you will find both of your patients," here he paused to gesture towards Garvic and Meg, "have received a strong dose of Asplistoxin, and there is a cure for that, correct?" "Why yes there is. Why didn't I think of that?" "Perhaps it takes your programming a bit longer to come to that conclusion. I only came to it after remembering a similar incident on the Excelsior. At the time, Asplistoxin was used on twenty people before we apprehended the distributor. Of the twenty, five suffered lasting effects." The Vulcan did not display any emotion as he said this. "Yes, but I must change my program to consider that option sooner. Unfortunately, I can not replicate all of the antidote." The holodoc frowned. "I have to have some of the Asplistoxin to create it, and the replicators can't handle its complex form. We need to find the person administering the drug before I can save these people, and the longer it takes, the lower their chances." "I have a full security team working on it as we speak." Tuvok stood stoically for a moment and then added, "I will notify you if we come up wit
h anything." With this he turned on his heel, and the grim holodoctor turned to Tom. "Mr. Paris, arrange to put the victims in a stasis field. I believe it will help their odds." The doctor turned his attention to the medical tricorder he held in his hand and absent-mindedly walked back to his office. As Tom was starting to arrange for the stasis field, the intercom in Sickbay brought through a message from B'Elanna. "Torres to Sickbay," came across in a voice that was very unsure for the chief engineer. "Sickbay here," the doctor answered. Tom forced himself to remain silent as the doctor found out what was wrong. A million questions flitted through his mind. What had happened? Why had B'Elanna sounded so uncertain? WAS SHE OKAY? But she had to be, he convinced himself. Otherwise, how could she call? "Doctor, we have a crewmember down here who appears to be dead, only my tricorder readings say he isn't." Her voice was very shaky, and Tom was finally able to figure out what had caused the tremble in her hail. B'Elanna was fine; she was just being uncertain of her own ability again. He always heard that particular quiver in her voice when she thought she'd made a mistake but wasn't sure exactly how. Tom almost breathed a sigh of relief, but then his mind absorbed what he had just heard. "Beam the crewmember to Sickbay," the doctor instructed calmly, as though crewmembers were found to be simultaneously dead and alive every day, or at least twice a week. "I can't do that, Doctor," B'Elanna answered uncertainly. "I already tried, but someone seems to have set up some sort of dispersion field. I'm attempting to break through it, but so far I haven't had any luck." "Could someone beam in?" Tom blurted out without thinking. The dispersion field meant that B'Elanna WAS in danger, even if she were still okay, and he had to get down to Engineering as quickly as possible. "I . . . I think so," came her quiet answer. He could hear the fear in her voice, and it made him uneasy. Tom turned to the doctor. "I'm going down there," he announced. Then, just as the doctor was about to protest, Paris cut him off with the words, "Computer, one to beam to Engineering." He took a deep breath, giving the doctor just enough time to say, "Lieutenant," before he said, "Energize," and Sickbay faded around him. * * * * * When he had fully materialized and could finally move after what seemed like an eternity, the first thing Tom did was call out B'Elanna's name. Then he listened carefully. There was no response. He searched the area frantically with his eyes, and finally caught sight of a crewmember sprawled out on the carpeting. It wasn't B'Elanna, but it looked like the dead crewmember she'd been referring to, and so, filled with worry and fear for B'Elanna's safety, he approached the unmoving man. It was Carey. B'Elanna had to be nearby. It had only been a few seconds since she called. Where was she? "B'Elanna?" he called again. "B'Elanna! Where are you?" For a moment there was no response, but then he heard a very soft moan. Without thinking he moved around a console in an attempt to locate the voice. When he found her, he almost found himself wishing he hadn't. B'Elanna was lying on the carpet and when he crouched down beside her she didn't even react. Without thinking, he lifted her into his arms and repeated her name more gently. "B'Elanna?" he asked. Her head moved just a bit in response, just enough to bring into view a small red welt on the left side of her neck. Tom shivered, and echoed B'Elanna's moan with one of his own. *No! Not her too! Anyone but her!* He forced himself to gather some composure. He had to get her to Sickbay and into stasis as soon as possible. As he rose, he noticed her lips were moving. By leaning down and putting his ear right against them, he was just able to make out her words, though he paid them little heed as he felt her sigh in his arms and then cease to move entirely. Though his ear was directly against her lips, he felt not the slightest stirring of air, and he knew without question that she had stopped breathing. He laid her body down gently on the floor. He looked around the room and saw all was still. He walked to the nearest terminal. B'Elanna had figured out how to break through the dampening field around Engineering but hadn't been able to enter the final command. Tom reached down and keyed the display. "Computer, activate emergency transport. Three to beam directly to Sickbay," he called as he made his way back to B'Elanna's still body. With a shimmer they all disappeared. * * * * * "Quick, Doc, open up two more stasis lockers. B'Elanna's been injected too." The doctor opened two more lockers and Tuvok and Tom proceeded to carry the two latest victims to their new quarters. Once they had them inside the doctor hit a button and the drawers slid shut. "What happened down there, Mr. Paris?" Tuvok asked. "I'm not sure. I got to B'Elanna right before she passed out. She said the strangest thing," Tom stated with a very confused look on his face. "What did she say?" Tuvok asked. "Did she see who attacked her?" the doctor questioned. "She said someone's name, but I'm not sure what it means," Tom replied, still trying to make some sense of things. "Perhaps she was naming her attacker," Tuvok stated. "She said 'Kes,'" Tom told them. The doctor's mouth dropped. Tuvok looked back at Tom with an eyebrow raised. * * * * * "Are you sure, Mr. Paris?" the security chief asked. "Yes, that's what she said, I'm positive." Tom trailed off, his gaze wandering toward where B'Elanna's body lay. He was silent for a moment before continuing, "But that's impossible! She's gone!" "Now, now, Mr. Paris, no need to get agitated," the doctor reprimanded, moving toward his patient. "It's possible that Lieutenant Torres simply was mumbling incoherently. Drugs tend to have that effect on people. Don't give it another thought. She could have just as easily said 'Seska.'" "I tend to agree," Tuvok replied. "I see no evidence to suggest the return of Kes. It is more likely that Lieutenant Torres was simply disoriented." Tom nodded. "That makes sense." He glanced toward B'Elanna again. "But this doesn't," he cried, gesturing. "That's three people! First Garvic dies, then Megan, and now Vorik and B'Elanna! No one on the ship had any reason to go after those two! I mean, I'm sure there are several people with grudges against Garvic. It could have even been considered suicide. But I can't think of anyone who would have the motivation or the mental unbalance to do this!" Tuvok opened his mouth to reply, but the doctor beat him to it. "I learned long ago, Mr. Paris, that it is useless to look for sense in this universe. You'll simply drive yourself insane trying to find any." * * * * * On the bridge a beep emanating from a console drew Harry Kim's attention. "Captain," he said after a glance. The commander of the starship Voyager turned in her chair to regard her ops officer. "What is it, Harry?" "We're being hailed." "Who, Harry?" Chakotay asked, consulting his console. "I don't see any ships." "It's coming from an M class planet about three hours away. Should I put them through?" "Onscreen," Janeway commanded. The viewscreen changed from a starscape to a picture of an alien in the blink of an eye. "Greetings. I am Tarath of the Garn. Allow me to extend our friendship and hospitality as we invite you to enjoy shore leave on our planet." I thank you for your offer, Tarath of Garn, but I must decline. We have an emergency on board." Tarath's eyes shifted to a person out of the line of sight of the bridge crew. "I confess that we suspected as much, Captain. Allow me to introduce someone who may be able to help you. This is Dr. Lioree Hacent." The entire crew gasped as a young woman took place beside the official. Her resemblance to Kes was astounding. "You are troubled by sickness on board and you have . . . ." Her voice trailed off and she studied Janeway's face intently. Finally she said softly, "I remind you of a lost crewman." "Yes, how did you know?" The young doctor smiled. "Her name leaped into your minds all at once. You see, we are a telepathic race." * * * * * Janeway sat in her ready room listening to the lovely doctor with a growing sense of concern. "Let me get this straight, Dr. Hacent. You say this is a sub-viral microbe? So my people were not assaulted by another crewman? And more may fall ill?" "Without a doubt, Captain. My people have a lot of experience with this affliction, although we still do not understand all its mysteries. It is called Enkema-3 and it thrives in deep space. Have any of your crew been outside the ship?" "Yes, we sent a team out about a week ago to do some repairs to the hull." "Then they most likely brought it back in on their protective clothing. Now I'm afraid your entire ship is contaminated." "How do we combat it?" "You can flood your ship with a series of gases to prevent further infection, but you can expec
t several more crewmen to produce symptoms. The incubation period is about eight days. More will fall ill before it's over." Tuvok spoke to the doctor, asking about the gases, and Janeway could almost hear the sorrow in his voice. She knew he was thinking of Kes. How could he not, with her virtual reincarnation sitting right there? Dr. Hacent's ears weren't pointed, and her eyes were gold, not blue, but still. Tuvok ended with, "How did you know of our situation?" Dr. Hacent smiled an embarrassed smile. "I made contact with one of your crewmen. It sounds wrong, I know, but it is how we defend ourselves. I chose a crewman at random and looked into her mind. I saw that your intentions are honest, but from the way I lost contact with her I knew she was infected with Enkema -3. I contacted Tarath immediately. I was afraid you would conclude your people were dead and destroy their bodies." "How can they be revived?" Tarath and Dr. Hacent exchanged glances. "We are not sure, for you are different from us," Tarath said. "Enkema-3 produces a chemical -- a toxin -- that mimics death. Garns who have had it say that they hear and understand everything around them, but they cannot move or speak or use their telepathic powers. I am not surprised you mistook the toxin for a drug that feigns death. Garns are revived by being 'called back,' if you will, into consciousness by someone close to them. The good thing is, once you have been infected, you are immune. The bad thing is the longer the delay, the further away the consciousness goes. Sometimes the person cannot be recalled. I would suggest you continue on to our homeworld, which is only a few day's journey from here. Lioree and I will do what we can to help you, but you will find more expert assistance there." "Captain," said Dr. Hacent, "Could I see the patients?" * * * * * At the hiss of the doors the doctor looked up from B'Elanna's stasis chamber and promptly dropped the padd in his hand. Then he recovered and snatched it up off the floor. "Doctor," said the captain, "may I introduce Tarath and Dr. Lioree Hacent of Garn. They have come to assist you." "Hello, Doctor," started Tarath, then he gasped profoundly and jumped backwards, pulling Dr. Hacent with him. "Ahh! Lioree!! He has no soul!" The doctor frowned, clearly offended, and snapped, "I am a holographic entity." Janeway intervened by holding up a hand. "Our doctor is a complex computer program. He has served us exceptionally over the last four years. He is a valued member of our crew." Tarath stared into the doctor's eyes. The doctor stared back. "You are spooky," said Tarath. "I am no such thing," retorted the doctor. "I'm sorry," said Dr. Hacent coming forward. "You startled us. We are not used to a body without a mind in it." "I beg your pardon!" began the holodoc. "I'll have you know -- " "Lioree," said Tarath, never taking his eyes off the doctor. "I think I will return to my post as soon as possible. I will notify the homeworld that you are coming their way." "I understand, Tarath. Please proceed, Doctor." The doctor snorted and turned back to B'Elanna's chamber. "This is the most recent of the victims, and over here is the first," he said, turning to Garvic's chamber. Dr. Hacent looked intently at Garvic's still form. "This man is . . ." she hesitated, then continued, ". . . very far away. He is wandering in a dark place. He is alone. He is in terrible pain. He is being followed by . . . a dark shape." She glanced at the readouts and looked up at the doctor. "How did his neck come to be broken?" "We don't know," said the captain. She whirled around, "Are any of the others so afflicted?" "No," said the doctor. "I would like to perform surgery on the ensign to repair the damage as soon as possible. The break was severe; certainly it was not self- inflicted." "Then I believe Enkema-3 may have saved this man's life. Someone may indeed have tried to kill him, but when the sub-virus made him appear dead, they stopped their attack. Perhaps, Captain, I spoke in haste. Perhaps you DO have a murderer aboard." She turned again to Garvic, her gold eyes full of sorrow. "So very far away, " she whispered. "Dr. Hacent," Captain Janeway asked, "you mentioned that among your people the afflicted are 'called back by one close to them.' How exactly is this done? We need to see if we can somehow do that with our own people before the rest of us drop off." The blonde alien tore her gaze away from the still form of Ensign Garvic, and looked up at the captain. "We enter the mind and search for them. Once we have found them, it is a matter of leading them back." Tuvok stepped close, his Vulcan hearing having allowed him to catch the exchange. "Enter their mind? In what manner?" Lioree looked up startled at Tuvok's silent approach. Her eyes widened as she sensed the disciplined telepathic mind of Voyager's security chief. "You are a telepath?" "I am a Vulcan; my people are touch telepaths." "Then perhaps I should clarify. We do not actually enter their mind, we join ours to theirs, and using our link to our own thoughts, lead them back to us." "Sounds remarkably similar to a mindmeld, Tuvok," Janeway interjected. "No, Captain. If my understanding is correct, it is more than that. The linking of the minds must be closer, stronger. It would be a mind fusion, a full joining of the minds, the two entities becoming one until the link is broken." "Exactly," Lioree said. "That is why it should be one close to the victim. The process is so intimate that any other would be . . . intrusive? Uncomfortable? In any case, it works best if the two are close intimate friends or lovers." "Captain," the doctor interrupted. "This is all fine and well for a telepathic race. But humans and Klingons aren't telepathic. And no offense to Mr. Tuvok, but he's not close enough to any of the victims to try it." "Tuvok?" "The doctor is correct, Captain," Tuvok answered with a sight shake of his head. "From what I understand now, I would be unable to assist any of the victims. The only way I could see to do it would be similar to Fal-tor-Pan, the ancient rite of refusion. Only the strongest of Vulcan matriarchs have ever been able to attempt it, and then only on Mt. Seleya, with many of my people to lend their strength. Perhaps our efforts would best -- " "I could do it," Lioree whispered. "Excuse me, Dr. Hacent?" She took a deep breath, and let it out. "I said I could do it. I could be the link between the two minds." "Are you certain?" Tuvok asked, an eyebrow rising. "Yes. But it will be hazardous for all involved. If the link falters I might lose both of them and myself." "Then you can start with me," Tom Paris interrupted. "Lieutenant," Captain Janeway began. "No! I'm sorry, Captain, but don't stop me. If there is any chance to bring B'Elanna back to me -- to us, then I'll take it. I don't care about the risk. We, I -- " The captain laid a hand on his shoulder. "I understand, Tom." She looked around Sickbay, thinking quietly, then made her decision. "Tuvok, I want you to start synthesizing the gases needed to decontaminate Voyager. Dr. Hacent, you've got your first volunteer to try and revive someone." She turned to the EMH. "Doctor, you will monitor the entire procedure." "Captain, there may be noth -- " "There may be nothing you can do if something goes wrong, but then you may come up with something. Get Sickbay ready for -- " she stopped in mid-sentence as the doors opened to reveal the stricken form of Harry Kim, a limp Seven cradled in his arms. "Captain," Harry said, his voice choked with emotion, "she just collapsed, she's not breathing, and her pulse -- " "On the biobed, Ensign," the doctor ordered. "Now!" Harry fairly ran to the indicated bed, and gently laid Seven on it. He stepped back out of the way as the two doctors began examining her still form. The captain watched as Tom took Harry aside, telling him that there was a cure possible. "Captain, I believe that we should start the procedure to revive Lieutenant Torres now. I will place Seven in stasis until we are sure that the process works, then we can revive Ensign Delaney. Her sister should do for that. As for Mr. Garvic and Seven -- " "I will try with Seven, Doctor," the captain's voice brooked no argument. "Yes, Captain." "Well, let's get to it." Tom and the doctor carefully removed B'Elanna from the stasis chamber, and laid her on a bio-bed. As Lioree and the doctor prepared, Tom kissed B'Elanna tenderly on the lips, and whispered to her. "I'm coming, B'Elanna. Wait for me, I'll come for you." A soft touch on his shoulder roused him from his reverie. "Mr. Paris. Tom," Lioree said. "If you're ready, lie on this bed so we can begin." She indicated the adjacent biobed. With one last look at B'Elanna's still form, Tom laid down. "Let's do it, Doc. The sooner I get B'Elanna back the better." Lioree smiled down at him as she placed the fingertips of her left hand on his forehead. *Your love for her is very st
rong, Tom. This should be easy for you to do.* Tom was startled to hear the voice in his head, for her lips hadn't moved at all. *Close your eyes and think of her. Picture her in your mind, see her moving toward you as though in a mirror and she is your reflection.* Tom did as he was told. A strange sense of being more than himself, and at the same time incomplete, enfolded him. Without prompting, he strained toward B'Elanna; toward his other half. In his mind he reached out toward the image of her, and as his fingers grazed hers, the two suddenly rushed together, melding into one image. Then he was no longer in Sickbay lying on a bed. He was standing in a gray shapeless place, a mist all about him. Looking desperately about, he could find no trace of B'Elanna. "B'Elanna!" he cried out to the mist, his very soul lending strength to his call. "B'Elanna, come back to me. Help me, show me where you are." A soft sobbing seemed to come from ahead of him and Tom began walking toward it. As he did, the mist seemed to fly by, and he found himself in a small room with a door. The sobbing seemed to come from behind it. As Tom approached the door the sobs became understandable. "Why? Why did you leave us? Why did you leave me, Daddy?" he heard B'Elanna moan. He opened the door to find B'Elanna curled up on a small bed, her shoulders shaking and tears running down her face as she cried for her father. The sight broke his heart. He rushed to the bed and reached out to her, taking her in his arms and holding her close to him. "B'Elanna, it's all right. I'm here." Her sobs continued unabated, but she wrapped her arms around him and cried into his chest. "He left me, Tom. And -- and I don't know why," she moaned softly. "Please, please, don't leave me like he did." The anguish in her voice wrenched at him, as he rocked her gently. "Never, B'Elanna. I won't leave you. I'm here for you. But don't you leave me either." That roused her. "Leave you? Why should I do that?" "You did. That's why I'm here, to bring you back to me. Back to Voyager." B'Elanna looked around at her surroundings. "This is my room on Kessik, when I was -- How did I get here?" Tom explained about the sub-virus that was attacking the crew, and finding her in Engineering after she had called about one of her crew being down. He explained about the Garn, and how Dr. Hacent resembled Kes. "That's who contacted me! I knew I saw Kes, it must have been her. Tom? How did you get here? And what about Joe Carey? He's the one I called you for." Tom explained about the 'calling back,' and the fact that their minds were melded, letting Tom search her out. "Joe was there in Engineering, but he was already gone. The sub-virus had gotten to him. They have him in Sickbay now." "You took a hell of a risk to come for me, Tom." "I'd die for you, B'Elanna. I love you." He lowered his lips to hers, and as they made contact, he felt himself rushing backwards. He tightened his grip on B'Elanna, feeling a slight resistance, afraid she would be torn from him. "Don't let go!" he thought to her, crushing his lips on hers. "We're going back." "It hurts, Tom." He felt her body shudder, then a burning sensation shot through his body, spreading out from the points of contact between himself and B'Elanna. "We've got to fight the pain. Whatever you do, don't let go!" As the pain built to near unbearable levels, the two clung desperately to each other, their love for each other giving them the strength to withstand it. Then there was a flash of light and sound. Tom awoke, gasping, and heard B'Elanna do the same. He smiled as he realized that it had worked. Without looking over to the next bed, he knew it had worked. He reached his right hand out, and felt B'Elanna wrap her left hand around it. Neither of them had needed to look; they both knew the other was there. Lioree stepped back, her face strained, but smiling as she watched the two join hands. Voyager's doctor immediately began checking his instruments, scanning not only Tom and B'Elanna, but Dr. Hacent as well. A smile crossed his features as he announced his results. "Captain! There is no longer any trace of the sub-virus in Lieutenant Torres' body. The procedure worked." He looked down at his two patients. "How do you two feel?" "Exhausted," they both replied at the same time. "You can't imagine how tiring it was," Tom said. "Or how painful," B'Elanna added. The captain looked from one to the other. "Let's hear it. We need to know everything that happened, so that we can call back the others." Tom and B'Elanna exchanged looks, then related their experience. "The burning sensation you felt is not uncommon," Lioree added, from where she stood examining Seven, their next subject. "The sub-virus seems to have a slight intelligence, and tries to force the two apart. If you had let go of each other, we would have lost one or both of you permanently." "Well, at least I know what to expect," Kathryn replied. Lioree shook her head as the captain made to lie down on the biobed next to Seven. "I'm afraid that you can't do this, Captain Janeway." "And why not?" "Because, this one is not thinking of you. Her thoughts are far away, and slightly . . . mechanical? But they do not concern you." "Then how -- " "Who among you has almond eyes and black hair? That is who she is thinking of." All eyes turned toward Harry Kim. Harry did not see the eyes fastened upon him. His eyes were on the biobed holding the motionless form of Seven of Nine. The emotion on his face was there for all to see. Those who saw remembered past instances in which Harry had shown his attachment to the beautiful but remote woman. B'Elanna, despite her grogginess, recalled teasing a very worried Harry only a few weeks before when Seven had run away in what she had thought was a summons back to the Collective. Instead she had returned to her parents' ship, to the place where she had been seized by the Borg and been assimilated. Tom remembered Harry's staunch defense of Seven in Sickbay. Tom had been chewed out by the young ensign after he had treated her cut hand with what Harry had felt was a cavalier attitude. Tom had warned Harry to be careful. It was clear that Harry had not been. At least, not with his heart. The first thought to enter the captain's head had been a pang of disappointment. She had tried so hard to integrate Seven into the crew. She was like her daughter! Yet Janeway immediately pushed those thoughts aside as being unworthy. Ruefully the captain recalled Harry's discomfiture at finding many references to his "predictability" in Seven's personal log. Clearly this was not a negative for Seven. For a split second Janeway thought, *I wonder if this is how my mother felt when I started to date?* The captain shook it off. *Ridiculous. This is nothing at all like that.* The alien doctor had not truly needed to ask who the young man with almond eyes and black hair was, any more than she needed her telepathic senses to sense the fond concern on the part of all the Voyager crew in attendance. Lioree had been sure that the stricken young man who had carried Seven into Sickbay was the one she had seen in Seven's mind. As the thoughts of the crew of Voyager washed over her, she could tell that the attachment of this young woman to this young man was not one sided. Any surprise felt in their minds was that Seven actually returned his feelings. Finally, Harry seemed to catch on that all of the eyes capable of opening on their own were looking at him. "Captain, we have to hurry! Aren't you going to help her?" "Apparently not, Harry." "You have to, Captain! She'll die for real if you don't! You're the closest to her on board." "That's where you're wrong, Harry. It seems Seven has someone closer to her than me aboard this vessel. You." The young ensign gaped at the captain open-mouthed for a few seconds. Then a brief flicker of a smile crossed his face before a look of determination clamped over his features. "Well then, let's get started. What did you say I have to do?" Quickly Tom filled Harry in on his experience with B'Elanna as Dr. Hacent, standing next to Seven and an empty biobed to her left, calmed herself. "Are you all right, Keh -- Dr. Hacent, I mean?" The captain shook her head a little at her momentary slip. This doctor did look so much like Kes. "I'm all right, Captain. I just needed to clear my mind of the last experience to prepare myself for this next task." Before the captain could reply Harry said, "I'm ready, so let's get this over with." He was standing over Seven's bed, looking at her so intently, as if he could will her awake just from his desire to see her look at him. Glare at him, probably, but Harry would welcome one of Seven's glares now. Everyone but Harry smiled at his eagerness. He reclined on the biobed, but not before taking Seven's Borg-enhanced hand in his and giving it a quick squeeze. "Do I have to let go, Doctor?" he asked. *No, Ensign Kim. You may continue to h
old on to her hand if you wish.* Any answer Harry might have made to Lioree was subvocal. Tom watched, fascinated, with B'Elanna in his arms, as they sat together in the biobed in which B'Elanna had been playing the role of Sleeping Beauty. Now it was Harry's turn to play Prince Charming for Seven. The faces of both the Garn doctor and the young ensign were intent. Harry's lids moved back and forth, sometimes slowly, sometimes rapidly, as if he were in a deep dream. Several times he grunted, and a couple of times his lips moved as if to mumble something to the watchers. Suddenly, there was a gasp from Seven as her lungs dragged in a deep breath of air. Her arms flailed, and Tom was suddenly worried that Harry's grasp on Seven's mind might be slipping, from the way his fingertips were sliding away from Seven's. Then there was a wordless cry from Harry, as he tossed his head from side to side. The Garn doctor almost lost her physical contact with Harry and with Seven. Harry leaned over on to his right side, and just as his right hand was going to slip away from Seven's hand, his left slapped onto her wrist, steadying her hand in his. A few more whimpers could be heard from Seven, incredibly enough. "Is everything going all right?" asked B'Elanna. "Is this what happened with Tom and me?" "No, Dr. Hacent seems much more agitated." Janeway took a step forward, wondering if there was some way she might intercede. The two figures, in complete synchronization, sat up in their adjacent biobeds as Dr. Hacent slumped to the floor. Tom jumped up to grab her, but the doctor was quicker. Seizing the Garn doctor by the shoulders, he pulled her off the floor and carried her to the biobed Tom had vacated. Janeway spared only enough of a glance at Harry and Seven to see that both were clearly awake before joining the doctor at Lioree's biobed. Tom was already there, responding to the doctor's commands. Although B'Elanna's attention was monopolized by the activities at the Garn doctor's bed, a quiet sounding voice drew her back briefly to Harry. It had been his voice, whispering, "Welcome back," to Seven. With all the activity, B'Elanna was the only one besides Harry to hear Seven's equally soft reply. "It is good to be back, Ensign Kim." A second later she went on, "and thank you." * * * * * "We've got her," declaimed the doctor. "She's coming to now. Step back Mr. Paris, Captain Janeway. Give her some air." Lioree turned to her side and began to cough. Raising herself on to her elbow, Lioree shook her head as the captain told her, "Please, Doctor. You must rest. Retrieving my people like this is obviously too much for you." "No, Captain, I'm all right. This has nothing at all to do with Ensign Kim and Seven. She's back, isn't she? I could feel her returning to consciousness before I collapsed myself." A quick glance at Seven's biobed confirmed that Harry Kim now sat next to Seven, still clutching her hand. They were facing away from the others and apparently oblivious to the Garn doctor's dilemma. The captain was reassured. "It would appear so." Lioree smiled weakly. "I knew all was well with them. But we will need to contact my people and see if they can send others to Voyager to help revive the rest of your crew that has been infected by the subvirus." "Of course, Dr. Hacent. You must rest." "No, I cannot rest, Captain Janeway. I need to help you search. I could feel it, when I was coming out of the telepathic connection. The hate. The intent to kill. Captain, now I am very sure. You have a murderer on board this vessel. And this murderer has already chosen another victim. You." * * * * * He crawled throughout the bowls of the ship. The dim gray walls confining his spirit and adding fuel to the already burning rage that raked over his soul. His eyes were black holes sucking all the light that bounced from the safety lights along the corridor. The monster had a human form, though the dark eyes made the man look as if his very soul was a den of iniquity. He reached the end of the tunnel, the intersection giving him pause, but only for a minute. He continued steadily on, his frantic mind not interpreting the sights and sounds that were received by his eyes and ears. In his mind he saw only the evil committed against him and his crewmates. He saw corruption in every figure of power. Janeway was the headwater of his river of pain and anger and he was going to destroy her. Tuvok had said that in order to effectively deal with anger he must confront it and destroy it. *Tuvok, you were right. But I was thinking too small.* His arm reached out to lay another false clue. A small red mark swelled on his arm, the color giving testament that all was not right in Jeffrey's Tube 32 Section 12B. * * * * * "Me?" Janeway couldn't have been more surprised if Dr. Hacent had revealed herself to be a Horta. "I'm the next victim?" "It would seem reasonable," interjected the doctor. "No offense intended toward you, Captain, but it is your destroying The Caretaker's array that caused Voyager to be stranded in the Delta Quadrant. Much of the crew left family behind. After four years, an already emotionally disturbed crew member would feel the need for retribution for being ripped away from his or her family." Dr. Hacent stepped forward and gently touched Janeway's shoulder in a Kes-like movement that made the captain wish the Ocampa hadn't left the ship. "I'm sorry, Captain. But the emotions I feel -- the overpowering anger and betrayal, a sense of indescribable rage -- " The woman's hand gestured helplessly searching for words that weren't there. "It's all directed toward you. I'm sorry I can't be more specific and point out the individual, but as I am unfamiliar with your crew . . . ." "I understand," Janeway reassured her, her mind still reeling at the thought of one of her crew wanting to kill her. Was this how Julius Caesar felt? *Nonsense,* she thought, brushing away the errant idea. *The important thing is to find whoever it is before he or she hurts someone else.* * * * * * The grayness surrounded her like a cool fog. B'Elanna floated in a slow circle, only vaguely aware of the fact that there was no solid surface beneath her feet, no solid anything. She wondered for a moment where she was, until dim memories of her experience with the. . . had the doctor said a virus? . . . began to resurface. She was on a different plane of consciousness, her sluggish, sleep-fogged mind realized, only this time, there was no childhood room, only grayness, grayness and a very faint but distinct tugging on her body, or at least the representation of her body in that plane. Unafraid but mildly curious, B'Elanna responded to the pull and willed herself without any physical movement to succumb to the tugging. At first she moved slowly, and then with increasing speed as the grayness cooled and darkened around her until she was surrounded by a blackness so cold it made her shiver. Now, suddenly, she was afraid. Afraid and cold. "Is . . . is anyone there?" she called out in a voice that somehow managed not to tremble too much. At first there was no response. Then the tugging grew stronger, encompassed her in a way that felt pleasantly familiar yet chilling in its lack of traceable origin. The force, whatever it was, embraced her in such a way that her heart began to pound and her blood raced. For a moment, she closed her eyes, and she could have sworn it was Tom and not some invisible force that held her close. "Tom?" she called out, unwilling to open her eyes. "Tom, is that you?" But though the embrace tightened, there was nothing but a star-studded blackness when she once again opened her eyes. Still, the feeling was too strong to ignore, so she followed the invisible force, let it pull her through the cold blackness that made her teeth chatter. It was only after what might have been an eternity that she realized she was in space, and that the white dots which resembled stars actually were stars. Within moments of coming to this realization, a tiny gray dot appeared and then began to grow steadily larger. *No,* she realized, *not larger, closer.* It took her very little time to identify the growing blob as a shuttlecraft. It took her longer to realize it was a dead shuttlecraft. There was only one flickering light that she could see within it as it grew, that and the sparks from what seemed to be recent weapons fire. Then the sparks died away, leaving a large ragged scar that made B'Elanna wince as she realized Voyager had lost yet another one. The damage looked too severe to repair. Still, the force, whatever it was, drew her even closer, so close that the shuttle now loomed large before her, and she almost brushed against it. Then she did brush against the metal, still warm from the explosion, but cooling rapidly. The invisible force pulled her to the window just as Tom might have pulled her to an observation port to watch a sun appear over the horizon of a foreign planet. Dutifu
lly she looked inside. Then she gasped. There in the shuttle, lying still and injured on the floor, was her love. She pressed herself against the window of the shuttle, tried to will herself inside, but without success. She had to reach him! He was hurt and he needed her! Unfortunately, the shuttle maintained its solidity and barred her from him. In growing desperation, B'Elanna pounded on the widow. For a moment, Tom stirred, even looked in her direction, but he didn't react. It was only then that she realized she wasn't in her own dream. More images of her experiences with . . . what was it? The virus? No, subvirus, flooded her mind. She recalled the terror, the isolation, and the hopelessness. Now she felt none of that, but she knew without needing to ask that her beloved was feeling all of the above. It was as though she could read his mind. No, not could, had. It was then that B'Elanna realized Tom had caught the subvirus and that he was pulling her down with him into his unconscious mind. Another far more frightening realization followed. The woman that resembled Kes had told Tom that he was the only one who could pull her back. No on else could have done it. Similarly, she knew by instinct that she was the only one who could rescue Tom. The only problem was that he'd pulled her in with him. The fear and weakness lasted for only moments, once she recognized the truth. A scorching anger buffeted the haze in B'Elanna's mind. The human side of B'Elanna Torres, in which she clothed herself daily to fit in with her shipmates, cowered as her Klingon anger blazed forth. No! She would not succumb to a cowardly, dishonorable thing like a subvirus from deep space! An ancestral memory going back generations on the maternal side of her family asserted itself with a vengeance. Never would she submit to meek death, or allow her beloved to perish for her failure to fight, no matter the odds. To fight. To fight off danger, fight off oppression, fight off weakness and falsehood and illness, until inevitable death would come only in glorious battle. B'Elanna had no thought for her usual disregard for her heritage. That did not matter now. Her love was threatened. She would battle for his life on any battlefield chosen. Inside her mind, spiraling down to Tom, lost in the mists of the virus, she called out to him. If she could not touch his hand, she would call out with her love to him. *Thomas Paris! Come to me! Fight with me!* In her dreams, B'Elanna floated towards Tom, smashing the transparent aluminum window of the shuttlecraft as if it were ordinary, old-fashioned glass. *Fight, Tom! You wanted to see my Klingon side, well here it is!* she screamed in her mind, through the mists, through the hazes blown away by the red-hot wind of her anger. She grabbed his hand, pulled him from the wreckage of a nightmare shuttlecraft, and sped up. Up into the light. The light above her, coalescing into burning illumination. A red sun? A crimson nebula? A scarlet sky? * * * * * "They're finally coming around, Doctor," B'Elanna could hear Samantha Wildman say, as if from some far away tunnel. The light was the color of blood through her lids as she cracked them open to the view of the ceiling of Sickbay brightly lit above her. B'Elanna groaned. Not again. "Well, Lieutenant, welcome back, once again," the doctor said cheerfully, as he waved his flickering medical tricorder over her body. "This time, I see you've brought a friend." "Tom?" she mumbled. "Mr. Paris is fine, thanks to you. Look for yourself. And you can cease clutching his hand like that. I need to check to make sure you didn't break any of his bones while you were both under." "I don't understand, who called us back?" asked B'Elanna, still groggy. "Oh, this time, you didn't need anyone else. With the link you've already established with Mr. Paris, you were able to wake up on your own this time, and wake up Mr. Paris as well. We had trouble waking you and realized that he was pulling you down with him. Dr. Hacent assured us that with a little prodding on our part, you wouldn't need to have her assistance this time, since you were immune. She was quite right." Turning her head towards Tom, B'Elanna gazed upon his face while the doctor pried her fingers away from his. He was lying on his back on the biobed half a meter from hers, blinking his eyes and moaning softly. Her concern for him vanished when she heard him say, "Doc, what did I do to deserve being in Sickbay this time?" B'Elanna uttered a good-humored snarl, "Nothing yet, but I'll think of something." * * * * * Kathryn Janeway strode across the bridge confidently. Much more confidently than she actually felt, truth be told. But she was the captain, and half of the job was keeping up appearances. As she came in range of the ready room the door slid open to admit her. She took two steps in and stopped. It was a test. And he passed, barely. On another day, at another time, it would have amused her. Oh, sure, she would have hidden her amusement, mostly. The captain could not out and out mock the first officer on the bridge. But it would have been all right to allow a smile to touch her lips, maybe reach her eyes. As long as she pretended it was an accident of course. The ready room door closed, trapping Chakotay in the narrow gap -- perhaps a quarter of a meter -- between it and the captain. Instinctively he leaned back against the smooth metal, not wishing to completely invade Kathryn's personal space. She was tense enough as it was. "Commander, what shall we check for first? Poisonous Gas? A bomb?" she asked sarcastically, taking one more step forward before turning to glare at him. "I am perfectly safe. Tuvok has had the ready room under continual surveillance since Dr. Hacent's . . . " she paused, " . . . announcement," she finally chose. "As first officer, it is my duty to insure your safety at all times," he reminded her calmly. "Actually that's Tuvok's job," she returned, turning on her heel and heading for the desk. Chakotay followed closely. Janeway, exasperated, made a grand gesture, indicating that he should feel free to check the chair and table for booby traps. For a moment he considered passing, but her safety was more important than any minor annoyance she might currently be suffering. Chakotay pulled out the tricorder he now carried full-time and quickly scanned the area. "I'm going to go out on a limb and declare this area safe." He tried to make a joke of it, but it fell flat. Janeway dropped into the chair, and Chakotay assumed the guest chair. She looked, in a word, beat, and it was only 0900. Chakotay wondered how much more she could take. He knew for a fact that she'd hardly slept the night before. From his vantage point on her couch, he'd heard her tossing and turning most of the night. Finally, about 0300, she had dropped off, only to awaken from a nightmare about an hour later. "Cap -- Kathryn, let me buy you a cup of coffee," he offered finally, shooting her a half-smile. For a moment Chakotay thought she would turn him down, but then, finally, she gave a slight nod, saying tiredly, "Thank you, Chakotay. Coffee would be just the thing." He went to the replicator and requested her favorite blend -- a large -- and charged it to his account. He walked quickly back across the room and placed the steaming mug in front of her with a flourish. "Drink up," he commanded. Chakotay resumed his seat, and waited for Kathryn to take her first substantial sip before speaking again. "Kathryn, would you like to talk about it?" "No. Yes. I don't know. I -- Ah!" She paused to collect her thoughts and take another sip of her drink. "This is a very frustrating situation for me. I don't like the idea of a murderer on my ship. And I don't enjoy being in 'protective custody'. And -- I don't know." "You don't like the fact that a member of this crew, a member of this family, wishes to kill you," supplied Chakotay softly. "No, I don't," admitted Janeway. "I know being captain is not a popularity contest. It is not necessary for everyone to like me. But," she shook her head sadly, "it is disconcerting to find out that I'm so hated by a member of this crew. THIS crew, especially --" Janeway's further words were cut off by the chirping of her combadge. "Sickbay to Captain Janeway." It was the doctor. "Go ahead, Doctor," she ordered. "Captain, Lieutenants Paris and Torres are both ready to return to duty. I'm also ready to release Ensign Delaney. She appears to be fully recovered, thanks to the efforts of her sister. However, Dr. Hacent and I both agree that it is imperative that we determine the most likely candidates for calling back Lieutenant Carey and Ensign Garvic. Especially Mr. Garvic. They have both been under much too long." "Agreed, Doctor," interrupted Janeway. "I'll be in Sickbay in a few moments. We'll finish this discussion then." "Of course, Captain. Doctor out." "Commander?" inquired Janeway, standing up from the desk. Chakotay
attached the tricorder to his belt once more and quickly checked the power supply on the phaser he also now carried. "After you," he answered, standing. He followed his captain out the door. Closely. The captain strode onto the bridge, her first officer shadowing her. "Commander Tuvok, Commander Chakotay and I will be in Sickbay, checking on the conditions of Ensign Garvic and Lieutenant Carey. You have the bridge." "Aye, Captain." A feminine voice came from the ops station. "Captain, if I may be relieved to accompany you?" Chakotay's head whipped around at Ensign Lang's voice. This was a strange request coming from her. Lang was a good young officer, as her excellent service when the Nyrians had taken over Voyager had demonstrated, but asking to accompany them to Sickbay. . . this had to be considered suspicious. He would be there, however, so when Captain Janeway gave her assent, he allowed them into the turbolift. "I hope you don't find me presumptuous, Captain, Commander," Lang said, as the lift descended to Deck 5. "I was just thinking about Lieutenant Carey. We've worked on a few projects together and we're part of the Thursday Night Poker Society in Lieutenant Ayala's quarters. We usually socialize in the same group at Sandrine's. I was thinking that maybe we'd be close enough friends for me to try to get through to him." "Thank you, Ensign. I appreciate your concern for Mr. Carey. Maybe you can help him," the captain smiled kindly. She caught her second in command's eye and noted the easing of tension in his shoulders. Surely he had not suspected Lang! "I guess you didn't play poker last night, Lang, with all of the turmoil here," commented Chakotay after an uncomfortable couple of seconds of enduring a Janeway glare. As the turbolift door swished open, the young officer responded, "You're right, sir, but it was strange. Lieutenant Ayala told Hamilton, Dalby and I to come anyway, just to keep up our spirits. Then he wasn't there himself! He didn't answer his combadge, either. We were afraid he'd collapsed, too, when we finally found him playing pool in Sandrine's with Gerron. Seems he forgot all about asking us. In fact, he swore he hadn't!" As they walked into Sickbay to be greeted by Dr. Hacent she added, "He said he couldn't possibly play poker with Carey out like that. He lost his temper. I've never seen him do that before, Commander. You know how calm Ayala always is." "This situation is getting to all of us," Chakotay said in a calming voice. Even as Janeway discussed the condition of Garvic and Lang's offer with the two doctors, she couldn't shake the idea that this odd behavior was important. She never thought to mention it to Dr. Hacent, however. No need to bother the Garn scientist with minor off-duty personnel issues like this. * * * * * A group of three dispirited officers sat in a corner booth at Sandrine's, nursing glasses of synthale. "I feel so helpless, Lieutenant Torres. Not even a hint of response from him." "Look, you tried. That's all you can do," replied B'Elanna. Tom patted the young ensign's hand. "Don't worry. The doctor will come up with something, S.C." The pilot used one of his most sparkling smiles to his friend, using the pet nickname that Ensign Lang had acquired thanks to her stand on the bridge against the Nyrians. S.C. stood for "Security Chief," a post she'd held for several hours when the ship was overrun by the greedy, sneaky aliens. "I hope . . . " "Ensign Vorik to Lieutenant Torres." "Yes, Vorik?" "You are needed in Engineering, Lieutenant. We are picking up some unusual fluctuations in the port warp nacelle." "I'm coming. Torres out." With a peeved look on her face, B'Elanna rose from the table. "Got to go." "I should get back to my quarters to rest now, anyway. I'm due back on the bridge at 2300 hours. Thanks for listening." The young operations officer also got to her feet. "Both of you leaving me here alone! Take pity on me! I'll only have Gaunt Gary for company." The helmsman heaved a melodramatic sigh. "Quelle dommage, mon cher. I will protect you and keep you company!" Sandrine swept toward the table to pick up the empty bottles and pat an amused Tom on the head. Laughing, the two women exited the holodeck tavern side by side to go to the turbolift. * * * * * B'Elanna sought out the young Vulcan in Engineering as soon as she entered her department. He was nowhere to be seen. The sense of quiet urgency she'd expected to find was also absent. "Nicoletti, where's Vorik? I thought we had a problem with the warp nacelles! What is he doing to fix it?" "Sir?" said Nicoletti, clearly nonplused. "There's no problem with the warp nacelles that I know about." A quick consultation with the other engineers and a careful review of the data showed that Susan Nicoletti was absolutely correct. No abnormality in either nacelle, nor in any of the other systems connected with the warp drive could be detected. In fact, it was all functioning at peak efficiency. One thing wasn't functioning at peak efficiency, however. Ensign Vorik. He was nowhere in Engineering. A computer check and visit by B'Elanna revealed that he was in Jeffries Tube 27A doing routine maintenance on the communications relay circuits in that location. The young Vulcan denied any knowledge of problems with the port warp nacelle. In fact, he denied even speaking to his superior about any problems in the last day and a half. For a Vulcan, he was quite adamant. Some might even say testy. B'Elanna shook her head in confusion as she left the ensign to his work. This was all getting very, very strange. Almost weird. For a Vulcan to forget anything so vital! After all, SHE was the one who'd been flattened by that Enka-whatever- it-is subvirus, not Vorik! Wait a minute. Maybe it was her! "Lieutenant Torres to Lieutenant Paris," she signaled. "Paris here. What's up, B'Elanna? Do you need extra help down there in Engineering?" "Tom, just bear with me a moment. What was the reason I came down to Engineering in the first place?" "B'Elanna! You were checking on the warp nacelle problem! Are you all right? You're not having some kind of relapse or memory loss, are you?" "Not if I hear you say what I think you're going to say when I ask you my next question. Who reported this problem with the warp nacelles?" "Vorik, of course. B'Elanna?" Tom's confusion was easy to hear over the com. B'Elanna looked at the closed hatch of Jeffries Tube 27A. This was getting very strange indeed. * * * * * Commander Tuvok closed his eyes, extinguished his meditation lamp, and sat quietly for several minutes before arising and starting to remove his clothing to prepare for bed. His mind toyed with this puzzle of the subvirus as he moved slowly through his nightly rituals. It was extremely difficult for him to concentrate. The situation was an intriguing one, and taking the time to sleep seemed inappropriate, somehow. However, his body craved sleep, and to deny it the necessities of basic existence was unwise. He might begin to function at less than peak efficiency, and now, of all times, was a poor time for that. The person having murderous thoughts towards Captain Janeway must be apprehended before doing any harm to her or to anyone else on Voyager. Absent-mindedly scratching the ugly red welt on his arm, the security chief of Voyager exhaled his breath heavily in what sounded suspiciously like a sigh before drawing on his night tunic. Walking over to his bed, Tuvok drew back the covers and lay down. There were times, illogical as it seemed, that what his human crewmates called "sleeping on it" actually did assist in the resolution of a difficult problem. As he assumed a prone position on his bed he told himself that this might be one of those times. Taking the time to sleep was more acceptable if seen in such a light. * * * * * "B'Elanna! I was worried you'd never get free again tonight!" Tom called out to her from his booth in Sandrine's. "Sorry I'm late. I couldn't relax until I'd completed the diagnostics on the warp core nacelles one last time." She hurried over to the table and gave his cheek a quick, affectionate stroke before sitting next to him in the booth. "So, have you been sitting here since I left, with only Sandrine to keep you company?" "Lieutenant, how could you think I would waste my time like that when my talents are in such demand all over the ship?" he grinned. More seriously, he added, "I went back to Sickbay, since the captain didn't want me on the bridge until my next shift to make sure I'd fully recovered. Dr. Hacent made two more attempts to bring around Carey." "Two more? Who?" "Both the Delaney sisters, if you can believe it." "The Delaney sisters! If they've been close to Joe, it's been the first relationship either one has ever had that they'd managed to keep quiet!" B'Elanna looked stunned by the implications. Everyone aboard ship had always perceived Joe as someone who was so devoted to his wife and children in the Alpha Quadran
t. The idea of him being involved with Megan or Jenny, let alone both of them, was astonishing. "I questioned it, too, B'Elanna. We all know Joe has stuck to group social activities. I hadn't heard any hint of his dating anyone aboard ship. Jenny said that it wasn't like that at all. Apparently, when Jenny and Megan have had some problems that they wanted to bounce off someone male, they would go to Joe just because they knew nothing like that would ever happen. They tease him sometimes that they're going for advice to their 'big brother Joe.' They were hoping that if he felt towards them a little of the same, like they were his sisters, they might be able to reach him." "They have worked together on rebuilding shuttles a lot lately," B'Elanna mused. "If it had worked, though, I can't believe you wouldn't have called me in Engineering to tell me this, instead of waiting to tell me about it now." The smile that appeared on his face was a bit crooked, like his patented smirks usually were, but there was no sparkle in his sad eyes. "You know me too well, B'Elanna. No, there was nothing, either time." "Lieutenant Paris?" Tom and B'Elanna both turned their heads as a musical voice addressed the helmsman. Dr. Hacent, threading her way carefully past Hudson, Simms, Lamont, and Marco Cavelle, who were in the midst of an exuberant game at the pool table, approached the booth where the two lieutenants were sitting. "May I join you?" "Of course, Dr. Hacent. Please take a seat," Tom said, rising politely. "Thank you. And please, call me Lioree." She smiled as she sat down, increasing her resemblance to the lost Ocampan, although Lioree's voice was considerably higher in pitch than Kes' and could not ever be mistaken for hers. "I've wanted to talk to the two of you about something." "About our being in that trance?" asked B'Elanna warily. She was getting very tired of being asked about that. "Oh, no, Lieutenant. I have all the information I need from you about that. I was just wondering if you know anything about either of our remaining patients, especially Ensign Garvic. Several people have already come forward to volunteer to try to bring Lieutenant Carey back, but there hasn't been even one volunteer for Mr. Garvic. Why is that, do you think?" "How many days do you have to discuss it, Lioree," said Tom in a sarcastic tone of voice. At the Garn physician's startled look Tom added, "I'm sorry if I sound a little bitter, Dr -- Lioree, I mean. It's just that Jack Garvic tried to pin the blame for a shuttle accident on me a while back to try to ruin me. And with my history, no one needs to do anything like that. I've been pretty good at messing things up for myself. I certainly didn't need any help like that!" Briefly, B'Elanna and Tom filled Lioree in on Tom's past, as well as about the lies and dissension spread by Garvic that had the crew temporarily believing that the "old irresponsible Tom Paris" was back, many months before. Only diligent detective work by B'Elanna, Harry, and a few others enabled Tom to clear his name and the true culprit to be identified. "Ensign Garvic would have been drummed out of Starfleet, the same way Tom was after his Caldik Prime accident, if we were back in the Alpha Quadrant. The way it is with us here, all that the captain felt she could do was to bust him in rank from lieutenant to ensign. But no one trusts him anymore. To tell you the truth, when we first got word that he'd been killed, I don't think anyone was upset for Garvic. It was just the idea that we could actually have a murderer on board ship that bothered the crew." "I see. That's dreadful, what he did. I feel sorry for him, though, now I understand a little about him. I've sensed some terribly dark thoughts from him, even under the trance as deeply as he is. I thought I had perceived guilt, too. Tremendous feelings of guilt." "You don't think that those murderous thoughts might have erupted from him and not from someone else, do you?" asked Tom. "I don't believe so, Lieutenant." "If we're calling you Lioree, shouldn't we be Tom and B'Elanna?" "You're right, B'Elanna." Lioree's gentle laugh was drowned out by the loud noises from near the pool table. The three at the back booth turned around to see what the commotion was about. Captain Janeway, closely shadowed by Chakotay, was just passing through the doors into Sandrine's, but the excitement did not appear to be due to her entrance. From the shouts, the trio in the booth could tell that Janine Lamont had downed an exceptionally difficult shot, much to the delight of Ethan Simms and the dismay of Hudson and Marco. Particularly Marco. Tom grinned. "I guess Janine's been taking lessons from the captain," he said. Before either of his female companions could comment, however, Marco Cavelle lost his temper. Even though Marco was known for his short fuse, this display was remarkable. Cursing and shouting, Marco began to swing around his pool cue, heedless of anyone near him. Heedless of Captain Janeway, who was trying to slip past the table to get to a seat in the back of the tavern. Chakotay had positioned his body between Janeway and the mayhem at the table but from the look on her face, Tom was sure she was about to intervene. It all happened so fast. Suddenly Marco lunged back, thrusting his pool cue viciously at a feminine face. The face of the captain. Chakotay's firm arm on her shoulder spun the captain away just before it would have struck her full on the face and, with his other hand, the first officer managed to deflect the blow so that his captain received only a glancing blow on the shoulder. Hudson, grabbing Marco by the arm, ripped off half of his friend's shirt as he and Simms wrestled him to the ground, still screaming in furor. Tom jumped up and ran over to the captain, followed closely by B'Elanna and Lioree. "Are you okay, Captain?" Tom asked solicitously. "I'm fine, Tom. What's gotten into Mr. Cavelle?" "You know his temper, Kathryn," said Chakotay, forgetting himself in his concern for her. Tom's eyes met Captain Janeway's. Could Marco have been the one the Garn doctor had sensed? Both sets of eyes turned towards the doctor who had sped over, not to the captain, but towards Marco. "Don't worry, Captain, we'll send him to the brig," said Simms, looking worriedly at his partner Hudson. "Captain, this man needs to go to Sickbay," interceded Lioree. "Dr. Hacent?" asked Chakotay. "Look at his arm." The group's eyes all turned to where Lioree was pointing. The angry red welt on his upper arm oozed pus and a trace of blood. B'Elanna's hand reflexively went to her neck, to the spot where her own welt had been before the doctor had healed it. "Captain, I cannot explain it, but this man must also have contracted the Enkema-3 subviral infection. Instead of falling into unconsciousness and a death-like state, his mind seems to be deranged. He needs treatment just as badly as anyone else in your crew." Seconds after the fading of the glow of the emergency transport which had transferred Marco, Lioree, Hudson, and Simms to Sickbay, the four senior officers stood by the bar, somewhat shaky now that the immediate danger was past and trying not to show it. "Captain, I know it's Tuvok's rest period, but do you think we should contact him about this?" "I don't think so, Commander. I'm sure Mr. Simms or Mr. Hudson will do it as a natural consequence of their duties. We need to consider the ramifications of what just happened. If this Enkema-3 can cause insanity instead of a death- trance, we could have a serious problem on our hands. Who knows how many of the crew may have been affected without our knowing it as of . . . " "Ensign Simms to Captain Janeway." "Yes, Ensign?" "Captain. I just tried to raise Commander Tuvok to inform him of the incident. I'm not getting an answer, Captain, and the computer doesn't seem to know where he is." "What?" said Chakotay. "Computer, location of Commander Tuvok?" "Commander Tuvok's combadge signal is off-line." The captain made an impatient noise. "Now what? Tom, B'Elanna, check the commander's quarters. We'll look in the mess hall. Meet me in my ready room in ten minutes." * * * * * "I tell you, Chakotay," she said a few moments later, "this situation is beginning to annoy me. We may lose Garvic, Kes' long lost twin sister shows up, you and I are sharing quarters, Cavelle is suddenly deranged, and Carey is still in a coma despite half the female population of the ship trying to get him back! We may as well be the stars of an overdone space opera. Tune in tomorrow to see if -- " As the mess hall doors opened, a blinding flash caused them both to leap aside. A high energy discharge crackled in the air around them, hurtling them both to the floor. Chakotay reflexively covered the captain's small frame with his own large body. She heard a grunt in her ear and smelled the unmistakable stink of seared human flesh from a phaser burn. She tried to reach her combadge, but
Chakotay's considerable weight held both her arms to the floor. Looking around wildly, she saw the mess hall was empty. "Neelix!" she screamed, struggling to move Chakotay's body. "Help!" The Talaxian shot around from behind the counter and pulled up short at the sight before him. He stared for a moment, then for some unfathomable reason he began to laugh hysterically in a very high pitched giggle. Janeway was dumbfounded, but she prioritized her thoughts. She rolled the commander off and jumped to her feet holding a bruised shoulder. She clumsily activated her combadge with her left hand and barked orders. "Doctor to the mess hall at once! Simms, Hudson! Phaser fire in the mess hall! Secure the area, but scan for booby traps before coming in! Mr. Paris, is Tuvok in his quarters?" "No, Captain, we're in your ready room and I think -- " She cut him off. "Ensign Lang! Organize a search team and find Tuvok fast! Kim and Seven of Nine, report to my ready room. All hands, go to yellow alert!" She glanced toward Neelix who was now lying on the floor snorting and chuckling. "Mister, do you want to spend the next 60 years in the brig?" This sent Neelix into new spasms of giggles. He curled up into a ball and made odd whistling noises. The doctor shimmered into existence and spared Neelix a glance before bending over the commander, sensor whirring. "Sounds like a guinea pig family reunion in here," he said. At this, Neelix laughed so hard he began to cough and choke. He tried to stand but fell over, arms outstretched towards the captain. Below his cuffs they could see he was covered with oozing welts. Then, mercifully for all present, he passed out. "How is Chakotay, Doctor?" Janeway asked, sudden steel in her voice. "He has third degree phaser burns. He will be out of commission for a few days, but he will recover. The blast appears to have been a wide range microburst of phaser fire. Luckily for the both of you, it was not nearly as bad as it might have been. Almost as if our saboteur couldn't decide if he really wanted to kill you or not." *Saboteur.* The word sent a chill through Janeway as she realized that someone indeed had made an attempt on her life. Chakotay groaned and she refocused her thoughts. "He's coming around," she said to the doctor. She tapped her communicator again. "Captain to Ensign Zoomo. Arrange a site to site transport for Commander Chakotay. Send him, the doctor, and Mr. Neelix back to Sickbay." "Yes, ma'am." "Doctor, I'll be in my ready room." * * * * * Five minutes later, as she approached her ready room, Tuvok fell into step with her. "Well, where have you been?" she snapped. "I apologize for my absence, Captain," he said. "I could not sleep. I was meditating in the hydroponics bay. I was unaware that my combadge was off-line. I would surmise that someone was trying to keep me from being available to you. I am ready with a report for you on the situation in the mess hall." As she started to enter, he stopped her with a hand. "Please, allow me to enter first." Four people, Torres, Paris, Seven and Kim were in the room already, and as the doors opened, they jumped almost like guilty children. "Mr. Paris, you were wanting to tell me something?" asked the captain. Tom gestured toward her desk in an embarrassed way. Gouged into the smooth surface was a crudely printed word. "Soon." Janeway stared at the word in silence. The reverie was broken by Tuvok. "Captain, it is obvious that someone has a vendetta against you. Coupled with the illness spreading all over ship, it is a dangerous situation. It is my belief that you should remain in quarters so as to avoid the sickness and the predator." Janeway threw him an odd glance. Tuvok had never made such a suggestion before. "What? Run and hide when there are two major crises on my ship? No, Tuvok," she said, moving to stand behind her desk. "I think that's just what this . . . PERSON wants." "Actually, Captain," Harry piped up, "it may not be such a bad idea. I mean, Neelix almost shot you -- " by now all of them had heard of the incident in the mess hall " -- and he normally reveres you. This virus is making people behave irrationally. And more often than not, that behavior targets you." "Harry, thank you for your concern." Her voice took on a determined edge. "But I will NOT abandon my ship and crew in a situation like this. Understood?" The occupants of the ready room all nodded, accepting her chastisement. "Well, then," said Tom, "what should we do? I mean, there are 147 people on this ship. It could be any one of us. We can't very well keep them all under surveillance all of the time." "Actually, we can. And we have." This from B'Elanna. The pilot turned to the chief engineer. "What are you talking about?" B'Elanna went into "engineering" mode. "The ship continually monitors both internal and external sensor readings. Those readings are stored for twelve hours before being deleted to make room in the computer for more. It sounds simplistic, but there should be records of sensor readings of the captain's ready room in the computer. And those readings include combadge signatures." Janeway regarded her critically. "Of course. I can't believe I didn't think of that." "But B'Elanna," Tom broke in, "think of all the people that pass through the ready room. I mean, especially recently, with all the department heads reporting in about the illness or crew members and making incident reports. In the last twelve hours there could have been 100 people!" "Perhaps," replied Janeway, "but the last time I was in my ready room was about 6 hours ago, and I can assure you that this word was NOT here. That can give us a starting place. I think this is our best bet. Meanwhile, Tuvok, you keep compiling the reports of activity and look in on Mr. Neelix. See if he isn't coherent enough to give you a statement. B'Elanna and I will work on the sensor logs. Seven, Harry, keep working on some way to eradicate the virus from the ship. Apparently," Janeway heaved a sigh, "three more people have been infected." "The virus has been purged," said Seven loftily. "Undoubtedly the infected crew were incubating the disease and did not reveal the manifestation immediately, as I did." "Well, Seven," said Torres, "you needn't make them sound like SLACKERS." Paris ignored them. "Captain," Tom asked, "what should I do?" "Fly the ship," B'Elanna muttered as everyone passed out of the room. * * * * * He crawled silently through the bowels of the ship, like a beast stalking its prey. Ah, now this was real freedom, not being cooped up all day at one of Janeway's precious duty posts. Soon, soon he would get her, and it would all change. The dark shape chuckled maniacally to itself, the original noise soon joined by the crazed echo that bounced along the Jeffries tube walls. He paused for a second, listening intently. What was that noise? Soft at first, so soft that it was barely audible. As his hearing tuned into the sound he realized what it was. He peered up through some grating in the ceiling, and, poking his finger through, peeled away a section of standard gray carpet above. He peeked through. Yes, there she was. So beautiful, humming to herself. He gazed at her with adoration. Suddenly, a hate for that sweet sound ripped through his body. It was too high. Why didn't she sing in her proper voice? That beautiful, deep, husky voice. Then it came to him: this wasn't his beautiful girl, it was some impostor, taking her form, deceiving the rest of the crew, maybe, but not him. Undoing all his hard work. Healing his victims. But she didn't fool him. Suddenly, the woman above him mutated into a foul creature, dripping saliva and laughing wickedly to herself. But it was only a picture, painted by his fevered mind. His insane mind fabricated a new truth. *Yes,* he thought, *you'll pay for your vicious actions my dear, but not now, not here. Soon, after I eliminate that witch of a captain, then I'll come for you, and you will pay.* Dr. Lioree Hacent of the Garn sat staring at the medical console. These test results were going to drive her nuts. Why was the Enkema-3 reacting differently with the different species aboard the ship? It had never happened before. Not on that cargo vessel from Kia. They, like Voyager, had had a wide variety of peoples, but they had all been cured the normal way. Nothing like this had ever happened. It was truly baffling. Lioree rubbed her eyes tiredly. *Maybe I need a break,* she thought, *just a few moments away from this screen.* It was so much easier on Garn. With the telepathic interface one didn't have to strain one's eyes so. Humming softly, she swept around Sickbay checking the readings of her patients old and new. That was another odd thing. She had suspected that there would be a couple of cases after the gases had been released, but this many? It didn't add up. Enkema-3 didn't incubate that easily. In fact, it was quite a picky disease, choosing carefully who it wanted for a
host. But this one, it was different somehow. Finally, the doctor came to a halt by the bedside of Ensign Garvic. Even though the doctor had refused the broken neck bones, his lifesigns were getting weaker. She didn't know what to do, no one was coming forward and each hour he slipped deeper and further away from them. From her. Lioree stared into his face, studying his features. Why did she feel such compassion towards him, when everyone else on board would let him die? She touched the side of his face tenderly, feeling the smooth skin under her fingers. The she drew them back quickly and turned her gaze inwards. *Lioree, don't do this to yourself again. Don't you ever learn? Do you remember what happened last time?* Dr. Hacent lowered her gaze to her feet ashamedly. *Of course I remember,* she snapped at her better judgment. *You may fantasize about him, imagine all kinds of injustices in his past to make him like this, but you can't change the fact that he's a bad man,* her better judgment told her. *Yes, but he's NOT a killer, not like Dakku. There's something different. I don't know what.* *Forget him, Lioree. Listen to me. You know that it's useless to argue with your better judgment.* *But I want to do something. If I don't, he'll die.* *If he dies, he can't persuade you to let him loose so he can massacre your colleagues.* *I told you, he's not like Dakku.* But she knew it was useless. With one last fleeting glance at Jack Garvic, she returned to her console. It was best to occupy her mind. But he would not leave her thoughts. * * * * * Ethan Simms was exhausted. First there'd been that pool game where Marco Cavelle had completely lost it and attacked the captain. Then, in the middle of escorting Cavelle to the brig, Captain Janeway's authoritarian voice had boomed over Mikel's combadge, ordering them both to the mess hall because of unauthorized phaser fire. He and Mikel Hudson had spent the last several hours in the mess hall taking readings and searching for the most minute of clues for a hint as to who was insane enough to try and assassinate Captain Janeway, but to no avail. It was as if a ghost were behind these malignant machinations. Shaking his head wearily, he entered his quarters and headed over to the replicator. "Cool water," he told the replicator. Once it finished materializing, Ethan maneuvered himself over to the bed where he sipped some of his water. As he was setting it on the night stand, he was stopped in mid-air by a summons from his combadge. "Simms here." "Ethan, can you come over?" Janine Lamont's voice filtered out through the Starfleet emblem on his uniform. "I think there's something wrong." Her voice trembled with consternation. The water glass fell out of Ethan's hand, soaking the bottom of his pants as he answered tensely,"I'm on my way." He charged out of his quarters at warp speed. Ethan Simms had thought he had lost Janine for good when they'd passed through the Samhain Nebula. He wasn't going to let that happen again. Not if he could prevent it. Ethan reached Janine's quarters in record time. He pressed the chime repeatedly, alternately banging on the door with his fist. "Janine! Janine, open up!" *What if she's already collapsed?* Ethan thought frantically as he increased his pounding. "Janine!" His prayers were finally answered when a sleepy eyed Ensign Lamont appeared at the door. She was disheveled, clearly having just woken up. "Ethan?" she mumbled. "What are you doing here?" Ethan stared, disbelieving, as his heart beat began to slow down. "What do you mean, what am I doing here? You called me saying that something was wrong, and I came running over!" Janine's forehead creased. "Ethan, after you left Sandrine's with Cavelle, I came back to my quarters to get some sleep. I have the late night shift this week, remember? I've been sound asleep ever since. I couldn't have called you." "But it sounded so much like you!" Ethan sighed with frustration. "Who would do something like that, and who could sound so much like you? It doesn't make any sense!" "I don't know, Ethan," Janine answered somberly, stroking his cheek soothingly. She surveyed her arms and felt her neck. "It doesn't look like I have any signs of the virus." Ethan did the same for himself. "Me neither." He heaved another sigh. "I'd better go report this to Commander Tuvok. You're sure you're okay?" "Absolutely," reassured Lamont. "I'll be fine." The two embraced and kissed and then Simms proceeded on to Tuvok's office. And as Lamont watched him walk down the corridor, she obliviously reached under the neck of her tee shirt and scratched at a small, festering carmine colored wound. * * * * * In the conference room, Janeway sat in her customary chair at the head of the table. Taking a sip of the espresso she'd replicated, Janeway massaged her forehead wearily and said,"What do you have for me, B'Elanna?" Torres looked up from the computer panel. "I called up the sensor logs for the past six hours, from when you said was the last time you were in your ready room. I've downloaded the first few hours of data. It looks pretty ordinary. The last one I have so far is of you and Chakotay." "Yes, Chakotay and I left for Sickbay together because the doctor had just told us you and Tom had been cured," affirmed Janeway. Torres touched the panel and scrolled past the screens full of data, her eyes scanning them expertly, looking for anything amiss. "Most of the rest is blank, indicating that no one was there." The captain sighed, irritated by the lack of information. There had to be something! "Hold on a second," murmured B'Elanna, halting the flow of data across the screen. Her fingers flew over the console with practiced ease. Kathryn set her cup down and leaned forward. This might be the breakthrough they needed. The beep-beep emitted every time B'Elanna touched the panel increased in speed and Kathryn saw her chief engineer's face go taut with concern and frustration. "Captain, the information is there, I know it is, but it's encrypted in a non- identifiable code!" "Encrypted? How is that possible? And why wouldn't the perpetrator just delete the information?" Janeway demanded, rising and examining the computer screen. "To delete information in a sensor log would require a level four clearance, and you are the only one onboard who has that authorization. Not even Tuvok could authorize something like this. So instead, the data was, to use an ancient term, 'hacked' into and coded, just in case we realized that we could use the information in the logs to track down the assassin." B'Elanna looked uncomfortable using the term 'assassin,' and Janeway didn't blame her. She was the target, and even she couldn't fully comprehend it. But this was no time to try to 'assimilate,' to use one of Seven's favorite terms, the facts, only to act quickly to prevent the spread of a deadly virus and keep a mad crewmember from attacking. *Just your run of the mill stuff for this crew,* Janeway thought wryly. "How long would it take the computer to decipher the encryption code?" Janeway asked, surveying the odd symbols and characters on the computer panel -- the possible solution to this entire mystery. "It depends. As little as half an hour to more than seven hours. I really can't be sure, Captain," B'Elanna answered, sounding apologetic. She nodded. "Keep working on it, B'Elanna," ordered Kathryn as she strode toward the door. "If you have to, get Ensign Vorik in here also. I hear he's an expert at solving cryptograms. I'll be in Sickbay seeing how the commander is doing." B'Elanna waited until the captain was safely out the door to heave a sigh. She didn't like working in close quarters with the young Vulcan, even if he were a diligent worker. But the faster they figured this puzzle out the better. *It is a deadly enigma we are trying to solve,* B'Elanna thought to herself, *with the captain's life hanging in the balance. We can't make a mistake.* Several hours later, at her console in Engineering, B'Elanna was still at a loss as to how to crack the code. Every time she thought she had made a breakthrough, the encryption code came right back and denied her access. It was driving her crazy. When the console emitted yet another beep that signaled her decryption efforts had failed, she found herself ready to put her fist through a bulkhead. *Still,* she reminded herself, *it could be worse. You could be working with Vorik.* B'Elanna breathed a sigh of relief as she remembered how a few bioneural gelpacks on Deck 4 had needed immediate maintenance and she was able to send Vorik to assist. *Yes. It could definitely be worse.* She set the computer to a standard code breaker program, one that could systematically go through hundreds of combinations of symbols and letters to try and find the link that could crack the code. It could take hours, but at this point it was better than trying to do it manually. The chief engineer stood and walked to the replicator
where she ordered an iced tea. Engineering was basically deserted. It was the night shift, and most of those actually on duty were part of one of the teams doing repairs to various systems on Decks 4, 7, 8, or 13. B'Elanna relished the calm and silence that allowed her to focus on her task. She decided to take advantage of the stillness and run some diagnostics that had been escaping her attention for the last week. Torres was halfway to the console when a shrill whistle emitted from another console. Looking around, she saw it was the console running the code breaker program. B'Elanna ran to the equipment and looked down at the readout. After several seconds of astonishment, she tapped her combadge. "Torres to Janeway. I may have something here, Captain." * * * * * B'Elanna was giving her report to the convened senior staff no less than 15 minutes later. "The program found one link. Now the encrypted sensor readings are three hours worth. They all have random numbers, letters, and sequences. Impossible to tell where the actual information is. But -- " she switched the screen from the entire code to one special segment. "When I ran it through the computer, it was able to identify these 20 minutes as being special. There IS a particular sequence of characters coding this information. It was just too complex for us to catch. And since it occurs nowhere else in the program, I think we can focus in on this particular part. It shouldn't take us all too long to break it now that we know specifically where to look. The other stuff was probably gibberish designed to confuse the code breakers." The chief engineer took a deep breath as she finished her report. "Good work, B'Elanna. Harry, Seven, you two report to Engineering and see if you can give them a hand in breaking this. Tuvok, I want you to increase security clearances for everyone except the senior staff. I don't want this to happen again. Dismissed." As the group headed toward the door, the captain spoke again. "B'Elanna, I want you to get some rest. You've been going nonstop for 18 hours." "But Captain," B'Elanna exclaimed, "I can't -- " "No discussion. Tom, see that she gets to her quarters." Tom nodded his assent. "Yes, ma'am." He took B'Elanna's elbow and escorted her out of the room before she could argue anymore. * * * * * B'Elanna complained all the way down to her quarters. "I don't believe this! I need to be there! I am THIS CLOSE from breaking the code!" she said, striding angrily out of the turbolift. Tom followed her, his long legs allowing him to catch up to the angry half- Klingon. "B'Elanna, you can't go on forever. Even YOU have to sleep sometimes." He stopped as B'Elanna shot him a death glare. He tried another tactic. "Don't you trust your staff?" B'Elanna walked into her quarters with Paris at her side. When the door closed, they stood in silence as Torres gathered her thoughts. Finally, she heaved a sigh. "Of course I do," she told him quietly. "It's just -- " Her speech halted suddenly as she turned towards him. "Bella? What is it?" When she didn't answer, he turned to follow the path of her gaze. There, angrily emblazoned on the wall of her bulkhead, was a message: "You're next." * * * * * Captain Janeway strode into Sickbay with a determined step, and with a small gesture, gathered the attention of the holodoc. Things were rapidly getting out of control -- the latest episode this time in B'Elanna's quarters. The encrypted data files had been destroyed through B'Elanna's computer terminal and the villain had left a threatening message on the chief engineer's wall. This insanity had to stop and Janeway was ready to do whatever was necessary to get things back to normal. *Whatever THAT means,* she thought. "Doctor, I hope you have good news for me." "There's good news and there's bad news," the doc replied with a wry face. "Which do you -- " "Doctor, toy with me and I'll personally see to it that your next duty shift is spent locked on the holodeck in the company of a certain diva with a particularly bad prima donna attitude." "Ah. In that case, it's all good news. There is no sign of Enkema-3 anywhere on the ship; the gases Dr. Hacent recommended to us have been most effective. There have been no new cases reported in the last six hours, either. I believe we are beginning to see the end." "Good. What else?" "Mr. Carey is awake and recovering." "Excellent! Who was successful in contacting him?" she asked, looking past him to the engineer's biobed. "She's here if you'd like to congratulate her." As he stepped aside, Kathryn could see a blonde in the teal blue of Sciences. Beside her stood her little girl Naomi. "Are you all right, Joe?" Kathryn asked gently. "I am now. I was looking for something, Captain. I heard people calling me, but I knew I couldn't go back until I found what I was looking for. Then I heard Naomi crying, and I had to go to her. I just had to. When I saw her, I remembered what it was I was looking for." "Your children," the captain said softly. Joe Carey closed his eyes and sighed. "I miss them so much. They were so close, Captain. I wanted to stay. I wanted to find them." The captain smiled down at Naomi. "But you made him come back." "It was dark. I was scared. Joe came back with me so I wouldn't be alone." "You were very brave. I am very proud of you." The little girl's face lit up but she clung shyly to her mother. The captain continued, smiling at Samantha Wildman. "I think an extra ration for a dish of strawberry ice cream might be in order here. Ensign, do you think you could arrange that?" "Yes, Captain. Thank you." Dr. Hacent, who had been standing silently through this exchange, spoke up. "Captain, may I speak with you? Alone?" "Of course. Er, Doctor?" "I'll be in the brig examining Mr. Neelix," said the holodoc. "I hear he has recovered from his giggle fit. I'll look in on Ensign Cavelle as well." In the privacy of the doctor's office, Janeway looked over the alien doctor with concern. She appeared to be very tired. Her beautiful gold eyes had lost their bright shine, and she sat wearily at the doctor's desk, shoulders stooped. "Captain, it is not all good news," she said. "I would guess in another hour or two Ensign Garvic will be dead. I would like your permission to attempt to reach him by myself." "What? You don't even know him." "The doctor has told me everything. How Mr. Garvic lost his friend Ramey at Caldik Prime. How he tried to murder Lieutenant Paris by sabotaging a shuttlecraft and how when that attempt failed, he tried to blame the shuttle crash on Lieutenant Paris." She closed her eyes and sighed. "He is very far away. There is nothing here that holds him to your ship. Where he is there is no path to follow. I sense a great loneliness in him. Regret and sorrow. But I also sense something else -- a spark of stubbornness, maybe? It may be that I will not be able to find him, but I'd like to try." She glanced at the captain's communicator. "He and I will not be able to communicate much, of course, other than through emotions. The doctor has taught me a few words of your language. I know 'friend' and 'together,' also 'safe' and 'please.' I hope it will be enough." "Doctor, I can't let you risk this. It's obvious you're already exhausted. You've bridged the gap between all our sick crewmen. I can see you're nearly spent." "Captain, I know in my heart I am his only hope. You can't deny me the chance to try. That guilt would be a great burden to me for the rest of my life. Please." She said this last word in English. Without the Universal Translator, her voice had a pleasing, lilting accent. Kathryn Janeway took a long good look at the woman before her. She had done so much for them. Without her would Tom have been able to call B'Elanna back? Would Harry have been able to contact Seven? "All right," she conceded. "But I want our chief of security to be with you. He is a touch telepath. If things get too tough -- if it looks like Garvic is going to pull you in -- I want Tuvok there to pull you out." "I understand, Captain." "Captain!" the holodoc materialized suddenly before them. "Neelix and Cavelle are both in convulsions! We have incoming wounded!" * * * * * The only light in the room was emitted by a candle. One candle. Its flickering glow set patterns moving on the walls, on the floor, on him. He watched it for a moment, transfixed by the dancing light, before he remembered his task at hand. Everything was going as according to plan. All was centered. All was true. Then why did he have no peace? He supposed it was lingering guilt. He knew that he should be guilty, and he tried his best. But the disease must be stopped, the fire must be quenched. All must die. He gave one final glance at the candle, looked up at the ceiling, and cupped his hands around the flame. He felt its life ebb away, and then placed his hands by his side. The darkness surrounded him, strengthening him for his task ahead. But strangely, he missed t
he light. * * * * * B'Elanna stood looking at the words on her wall. *You're next.* She wanted to fight this. She was incredibly angry that someone would do this to her, but even more angry that they would endanger the captain. She wanted a fight. But how do you fight an unseen enemy? Tom wrapped his arms around her, wanting to comfort her. He wanted her to be protected, to be safe, but he knew that his arms wouldn't do much good. So he settled for holding his beloved until he felt the anger begin to subside. "B'Elanna, we'll find a way through this. I'm sure Tuvok and his team are doing everything they can to find whoever it is who did this." "I know, Tom. I just wish there was something I could do!" B'Elanna replied in frustration. "I hate this. I hate being out of control. And I hate whoever is doing this!" "Shhh, Bella. I wish I could do something to make sure that you'll always be safe. But I know I can't protect you. There's one thing I do know, however," Tom said as he turned B'Elanna to face him. "I will do my best. And I will always be here to hold you. We'll fight this together." A soft smile crept onto B'Elanna's face. Tom relished in the sight, he hadn't seen that smile in days. Slowly they both turned to the wall, and hand in hand, wiped off the words. * * * * * "Janeway to Tuvok" "Here, Captain" "I need you in Sickbay. Doctor Hacent is going to try to reach Garvic, and I want you here to make sure she isn't pulled in along with him." "Acknowledged, Captain. I am on my way." "Janeway out." "Computer, lights." Tuvok blinked for a moment as his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness. He then rose from his bed, removed his robes, pulled on a fresh uniform, and wiped his hands on the towel in the bathroom as he went out the door. * * * * * As B'Elanna turned from wiping the grim words of warning from her wall, Tom turned to her, ready to offer his comforting embrace. Instead, she dropped his hand and brushed past him impatiently. He stood for a moment, feeling vaguely foolish, watching her pace the room. Every taut line of her body spoke of her frustration and anger with this enemy who stayed just beyond their reach. He felt his own mouth twist disdainfully as he glanced back at the faint smear their hands had left on the bulkhead. If only their tormentor could be as easily eradicated. "Wait a minute . . . . B'Elanna!" He turned suddenly toward her just as she reached the near end of the cabin and they collided sharply. For a moment Tom was very aware of her femininity as she clung to him briefly for support; then of her Klingon musculature as she easily moved him back to arm's length. "The words aren't completely gone," he said when he recalled why he'd turned. "There's still a smear on the wall." "So?" "Why wasn't the activity log for the captain's ready room wiped out to begin with?" "Because the gap would have been obvious." B'Elanna recovered the old ground with a trace of impatience. "It was encrypted so that it occupied the same volume but was unreadable." "Right," agreed Tom. "And why is it wiped out now?" "Because once the block of encrypted data was discovered, the gap didn't matter. It was more important to remove the files before we broke the code." "And it had to be wiped out in a hurry because the attacker didn't know how long he had before you broke the code." Tom raised a finger. "Which means -- " "That he didn't have time to do a thorough job?" B'Elanna finished. "Sorry, Paris, these isolinear chips weren't just wiped, they were totally randomized. There's nothing there to recover." She turned away from him to resume her pacing. In completing her circuit, she had to steer around Tom who remained rooted where he stood squinting thoughtfully into the middle distance, his index finger still upraised. "What about replicator records?" he asked. "What?" B'Elanna stopped pacing and turned to him. "Replicator records," he repeated. "I heard what you said. I don't understand what that has to do with what's going on." "Hudson and Simms told me they'd found a steel lever with blood on it," Tom explained. "Garvic's blood. Tuvok had found four more just like it." "How come I didn't hear about this?" "You don't drink coffee with Hudson and Simms." "All right. But what has that got to do with replicators?" "Does Voyager use any steel levers?" asked Tom. "And if we do, are any missing?" "No, of course not," snapped B'Elanna. Then, "That means they were replicated. And our oily little sneak -- " "May not have been so thorough with the replicator records!" "Worth a shot," the engineer agreed. "I'll just need one of those steel levers to analyze and we should be able to make a match." "They're in Tuvok's office." "Lets go!" * * * * * Ten minutes later, Tom was examining one of the bloodied metal bars through its transparent containment canister as B'Elanna scanned it with her tricorder. It lay on a brightly lit work bench in Engineering where Tom knew sensors more subtle than his eyes or even B'Elanna's tricorder were probing it a subatomic levels. "It's not a lever," he observed. "The way it flattens along the side at one end makes it useless for prying or turning anything." "It's not steel, either." B'Elanna studied her tricorder's readings, then glanced at a wall screen to confirm that the engineering computer had reached the same conclusion. "It is an iron alloy, significant carbon content, a trace of chromium, and something I'm not sure of. . . . " Her voice trailed off as she studied the computer's analysis. "You know, a heavy bar of metal with an edge like that could be a weapon," observed Tom. B'Elanna spared him a glance. "The smear of blood along the edge kinda makes that an easy guess, don't you think?" she asked. "No, no. I mean it looks like it was meant to be a weapon -- or at least a chopping tool of some sort," Tom pantomimed an over-handed swing. "Like a headless hatchet or a really stubby machete." "It is a *peing-lak.*" Tom and B'Elanna whirled to face the Vulcan who had appeared silently behind them. "A traditional harvesting tool," continued Vorik as though unaware of their alarm. "I believe you'll find that the difficult to identify trace element is *rouk,* an alkaloid peculiar to the northern deserts of Vulcan." "Why did you sneak up on us like that?" Tom moved protectively between the newcomer and B'Elanna. He missed the glint of amusement in her eyes before she again leveled her gaze on the Vulcan. "I did not sneak, Lieutenant Paris," Vorik corrected. "I was on duty at my station when I overheard you discussing an artifact on which I felt I could shed some light and came to offer my assistance." Tom was about to point out that the engineering monitoring station was nearly eighteen meters away and certainly out of casual hearing range, but glanced at the Vulcan's upswept ears and thought better of it. "What do you harvest with a ping-lack?" he asked instead. "*Peing-lak.*" "Pehing-lahkg," Tom tried again. "What's it used for?" "In agriculture it is used to harvest and clean *peing,* a fruit with a heavy husk similar to the coconut of Earth." "You said in agriculture," pressed B'Elanna. "Does it have another use?" "Use?" Vorik considered the word. "No. However, in the ancient cultural traditions of the Northern People it is a symbol of purification." "Purification?" "Yes. I believe the equivalent human expression would be 'separating the wheat from the chaff.'" Vorik looked from one to the other. "A removal of that which is external, false, and useless, to attain that which is true, that which has value." "Like a winnowing fork," said B'Elanna, "or a thresher." "Approximately, yes," agreed Vorik. "Although in the case of the *peing* the matter is more urgent in that the husk is highly poisonous and must be thoroughly excised before the fruit can be preserved." "So this would be a weapon of particularly Vulcan significance?" Tom's eyes narrowed slightly as he asked, his hand unconsciously brushing the hip where his phaser would have been. "*Peing-lak* are not weapons," corrected Vorik. "They are traditional tools and cultural symbols." Vorik indicated the computer terminal with a silent gesture and B'Elanna nodded her permission. With a few deft strokes, he closed her assay program and accessed the main computer's cultural data base. In less than a minute an illustrated article covering all that he had shared with them, but in far greater detail, filled the screen. Tom noted that the *peing* vines had spines as long as his forearm, while skeletons and rotting corpses of desert animals attested to the potency of their poison. He found himself wondering about how hungry the first guy to discover the fruit was edible must have been. "Why is the motif of five *peing-lak* in a star so often repeated?" asked B'Elanna. "The arrangement is meant to represent the five-pointed *peing* blossom as well as the five seasons," Vorik explained. "It is an ancient symbol of justice." Tom was the first to turn away fro
m the screen. "So we're back to square one," he said with a sigh. "Anyone could have come across that and thought a Vulcan coconut chopper would be just the thing to throw us off their track." "Not quite square one," B'Elanna's voice carried a note grim satisfaction. "Now that we have the analysis of the metal in this *peing-lak* we'll be able to trace back to when and where they were replicated. And when we know that, combadge records will let us know who." "A prodigious task," observed the Vulcan engineer. "Might I be of assistance? The more searchers there are, the shorter the search." B'Elanna and Tom exchanged glances. She could see hesitation in his eyes and felt her own reserve at working with Vorik. But they needed to find the killer, and so far Vorik had given them nothing but excellent help. "Why not?" she said with a shrug. "You take that terminal. Tom, you take the one at the monitoring station, and I'll go to the main engineering console." As the other two bent to their tasks, they did not notice Vorik absently rubbing the red welt concealed by his uniform nor the fevered glaze that came to his eyes as he struggled to focus on the monitor before him. * * * * * On the bridge, Janeway stared silently at the viewscreen that displayed the continuous streaks of light that were stars being passed at Warp 4. Looking calm and serene on the outside, her thoughts were a whirlwind internally. *Fine. I'm a target. I can accept that,* she thought. *As captain, my crew sees me as their leader. And even if they consciously harbor no hostility toward me, subconsciously they may blame me for being in the Delta Quadrant. This sickness probably just brought that to the forefront.* Satisfied with that line of rationalization, she continued trying to piece together the puzzle. *But why B'Elanna? Everyone on the ship knows that internal sensors take readings, so knowing to encode them wasn't hard. But how did they know that B'Elanna had found a way to crack the code? And why -- * "Kathryn?" Chakotay's voice broke her out of her reverie. "Are you okay?" The commander took his customary seat next to the captain. Sighing, Janeway replied, "I'm fine, Chakotay. It's just this whole thing -- not knowing what will happen next, trying to figure out who's doing this while keeping the crew from becoming alarmed -- it's just kind of frustrating." "I know," Chakotay told her. "But I have faith in B'Elanna. She'll find something in the logs. And, the more acts committed, the more we have to go on." "It's just," the captain paused, then exhaled forcefully in frustration, "I know I'm missing something. Something KEY. It's right there, I just . . . I can't get it." Any response that Chakotay may have given was cut off by an ensign at the security station. "Captain, an alarm was triggered in Jeffries Tube 32A by an engineering repair team. I can't turn it off, though." Janeway stood and circled to the ensign's station. A small look of surprise crossed her features as she looked at the readout. "It's a fail-safe intruder alert. A kind of motion sensor, but they were all deactivated before Voyager was commissioned. Too sensitive and too much of a hassle. Hmm. Must be a glitch in the system." Her fingers played over the console as she spoke. "The reason you couldn't discontinue the alarm, Ensign, is that you need a Level 1 command code. Security feature, and yet another reason it was discontinued. If it were accidentally tripped, and someone with Level 1 access wasn't around, it could be quite a nuisance." The alarm quieted as suddenly as it began, and the captain returned to her seat. "I never heard about those alarms," Chakotay commented. "They were first installed in Voyager and a few other ships and never installed in any others. A hassle with not enough benefits to justify itsel -- " Janeway cut herself off. "Kathryn?" Chakotay inquired. "That's it," she whispered. "I can't believe I missed this." "What?" "Even if our assailant DID hack into the system to encrypt the codes, he would have to get in to the main computer through a gateway. A gateway to give him access TO the sensor logs. That's a Level 2 clearance." "But if they had enough ability to hack into secured files, couldn't they have hacked into the gateway?" Chakotay asked with skepticism. Shaking her head, Janeway said, "No. If you are at a high enough level to have access to sensor logs, then hacking into them is like digging under a stone wall. A very thick, deep, stone wall. Difficult, damn near impossible, but as we've seen, able to be done. But you have to get to the stone wall first. If you can't, you can't dig under it. And someone without Level 2 or above clearance would be, to maintain the metaphor, on a different PLANET than the stone wall." Chakotay nodded, understanding registering on his features. "So only people with Level 2 or above clearance could have done this. And that means -- " "And that means," Janeway interrupted, her voice full of steel, "that the person we are looking for is on my senior staff." * * * * * "We should start at once," insisted Dr. Hacent. "Ensign Garvic will be dead within the hour if I do not try to help him." She stood next to Garvic's bed, his hand in hers. "Of course, Doctor," agreed Tuvok in a neutral tone. "I was concerned with the effect the procedure might have on you. Telepathy is often a draining experience. I merely wished to be sure you were prepared. Also, the doctor is preoccupied with his other patients," Tuvok reminded Dr. Hacent as he moved closer. "I've already explained the urgency of the situation to your captain, and to the doctor. They both agreed I should begin at once," she answered, a hint of frustration in her voice. "We do not have time to wait for the doctor, and I will be fine, once I've helped Ensign Garvic." "Of course," demurred Tuvok again, the back of his hand brushing her arm accidentally. "I am ready to initiate our mindmeld -- " Dr. Hacent jumped at Tuvok's touch. "I -- Is -- That really isn't necessary, Commander. Captain Janeway and I agreed that your presence was merely a precaution. You are here as "back-up," in case I'm pulled in," she argued quickly. "I don't think I have the strength to maintain two telepathic links at once." Dr. Hacent took a step back, hoping it wasn't obvious how much the brief contact with the chief of security had disturbed her. For a moment she considered calling the doctor into Garvic's room, but decided against it. She was just being silly. The doctor had his hands full with Neelix and Cavelle, and her first concern had to be Garvic. The whole situation had her overwrought, and she was beginning to mistake these kind people's concern for her safety as interference. "I would like to begin," she stated as calmly as possible. Tuvok watched as warring emotions played out on Dr. Hacent's face. He had always found it interesting how much members of other races could betray with a look. She was obviously scared, but also equally determined. "Please proceed, Doctor," he ordered finally. With one last glance back at her companion, Dr. Hacent took both of Garvic's hands in hers. Mustering up all of her waning inner strength, she started forth on her journey. Slowly, she lost sight of Sickbay and of Garvic's sleeping form. No longer did she feel Commander Tuvok hovering at her back. Instead she found herself somewhere dark, and oppressively hot. She tried calling to him. *Ensign Garvic. Jack.* There was no answer. Taking a mental deep breath she tried again. *Jack,* she thought. *Jack. Friend. Safe. Peace. Help. Jack. Together. Safe. Please. Jack.* Over and over, she projected the words of her limited Federation vocabulary into the darkness, giving them all the emotional backing she could manage. Finally, spent and ready to give up, she heard a hesitant reply. *Friend? Safe?* asked a frightened voice. And then there was nothing but darkness. * * * * * He stood back surveying his handiwork. It had been close. Too close, really. But there hadn't been any other option. If he'd acted sooner, he might have been caught. But now, now his secret was once again safe. It was time to continue with his mission. * * * * * "I am releasing you both to your quarters for rest. You are both to remain there for the next 24 hours. And I WILL be monitoring you," the doctor explained to Neelix and Cavelle huffily. "You are dismissed." The two men got up from their biobeds, and beat a hasty retreat from Sickbay. The doctor shook his head, and called, "I said, 'rest!'" after them. Looking around the empty room, he decided it was time to check on his only remaining patient. He turned and headed to the back room in which he had isolated Garvic. The door was closed, and he impatiently punched in the access code. It slid open to reveal Tuvok standing over the biobed where Dr. Hacent now lay, slumped across Jack Garvic. "Doctor," intoned Tuvok, "I was just about to summon you. Dr. Hacent succumbed, and was pulled in by Ensign
Garvic. I attempted to prevent it -- " Tuvok was cut off by the chirping of the doctor's combadge. "Paris to Sickbay. I need an emergency beam out!" * * * * * Chakotay and Janeway both sat momentarily stunned. Although they had both reached the same unbelievable conclusion independently, it hadn't seemed possible until she'd actually said it. *A member of my senior staff.* "Should I call a staff meeting?" she whispered finally, not knowing what else to do. "Captain!" called Harry Kim from Ops before she could respond. "There is a medical beam-out in progress. Engineering to Sickbay." Harry swallowed before looking up to meet Janeway's gaze. "Ensign Vorik, and Lieutenants Torres and Paris." Janeway hit her combadge, calling, "Bridge to Sickbay." "Sickbay here, Captain," answered the EMH efficiently. "I was just about to contact -- " She cut him off. "We already know, Doctor. Commander Chakotay and I are on our way." "Very well," agreed the doctor, breaking the link. Glancing around the bridge, Janeway realized that almost everyone left was a floater. "Harry," she announced, exasperated, "you have the bridge." Catching his worried look, she added, "Unless you really want to join the rest of the senior staff in Sickbay." "Uh, no, ma'am. That's okay," he replied finally, making his way to the center of the bridge. "But -- " "We'll keep you informed, Ensign," promised Chakotay, following Janeway into the turbolift. * * * * * "All I'm saying is, it was extremely presumptuous, and highly unnecessary." These words greeted Janeway and Chakotay as they entered Sickbay a minute later, their strides perfectly synchronized. Janeway was glad to see her chief engineer standing, hands on her hips, glaring at her helmsman as he worked over Ensign Vorik's unconscious form. Quickly, she reprimanded herself. *Kathryn, every member of the crew is important. Don't play favorites.* And then, it hit her again. *A member of my senior staff.* "B'Elanna, can you ream me out later?" asked Tom, running a medical scanner over Vorik's head. "I couldn't just leave you in Engineering unprotected. But right now, I need to take care of Vorik." "Perhaps you can fill me in on what happened, Lieutenant?" requested Janeway before B'Elanna could reply. "Of course, Captain," agreed B'Elanna grudgingly. "Where's the doctor?" interrupted Chakotay suddenly. "He was here when the captain hailed Sickbay." "He's in with Tuvok, Garvic, and Dr. Hacent," B'Elanna explained. "When we got here, he told Tom to take Vorik. Apparently Dr. Hacent was pulled in by Garvic." The tone of B'Elanna's voice left no doubt about her feelings regarding the man. "The doctor's examining her now, but he doesn't think there's much he can do. Tuvok wasn't able to bring her back out of it." "And Vorik? Will he be okay?" inquired Janeway. "I think so," answered Tom, glancing up from the readings he was studying intently. "His symptoms and brain wave patterns are similar to those of Neelix and Cavelle earlier. I'm now following the course of treatment the doctor used on them." Tom pressed a hypo to Vorik's neck, and consulted his tricorder once more. "Good," he declared. "His vitals are already returning to normal. I just wish we had noticed something was wrong earlier," he sighed. "But he seemed okay, and he was being so helpful." "Helpful?" echoed Chakotay. "Yes," chimed B'Elanna. "Vorik helped us identify those steel spikes that were found in the Jeffries tubes. They're Vulcan ceremonial/agricultural tools, and they have a very specific replicator signature. We were just about to access the replicator logs when Vorik collapsed. We may soon know who is responsible for the threats." "Good work, Lieutenants," answered Janeway with false cheer. *It couldn't be B'Elanna and Tom, could it?* she asked herself. *It couldn't be any of the senior staff,* her mind argued. *Not normally.* "Why don't you get on that, B'Elanna. We'll check on Dr. Hacent." * * * * * *Friend?* the voice questioned again. *Safe?* Dr. Hacent groaned. *Friend,* she answered. *Lioree friend Jack. Lioree help Jack.* She whispered, scared. *Jack help Lioree.* Warm, safe, GOOD feelings rushed over Garvic, for the first time in a long, long time. *Friends,* he agreed. *Help be safe.* * * * * * "Doctor, report," ordered Janeway, striding into the back room. "What happened?" "I came in to check on Dr. Hacent's progress, and found her unconscious," the doctor replied, scanning first Hacent, then Garvic. "Tuvok?" demanded Janeway, turning to her chief of security. "Dr. Hacent appeared to be doing well. By the time I realized there was a problem, it was too late. I tried to pull her back, but it was too late. I am sorry Captain." "I'm sure you did your -- " "Captain!" interrupted the doctor. "The readings I am getting from both Garvic and Dr. Hacent are quite anomalous. I don't believe either of them are suffering from an Enkema-3 induced coma." Before he could continue, Garvic groaned. * * * * * B'Elanna watched Tom as he bent over Vorik's unconscious form. She glanced at the door through which the captain and Chakotay had disappeared moments before. She might be able to continue her search of the replicator logs from the terminal in the doctor's office. She'd made a step in that direction when she was stopped by Tom's startled grunt. "That shouldn't have happened." "What shouldn't have happened?" she moved to the biobed, watching Tom closely across Vorik's supine figure. "Vorik's bio readings," Tom gestured at the display. "Heartbeat, respiration, metabolism, everything just dropped off the scale." "He's dead?!" "No, he's just slowed down," Tom's tone was exasperated as he studied the confusing readings. "Way down. Not just slow for a Vulcan, slow by human standards. Slow for some plants." "Not his brain activity," B'Elanna pointed out. "Look at that." "My God." Tom broadened the scanner's search parameters with a few deft taps at the console. "It's not just his brain; every nerve in his body is doing that." "A signal discharge." "What?" "If I were watching this happen on an interlocked computer network, like the ship's control systems," B'Elanna explained, "I'd say it was a complete system purge." "That doesn't make sense." "I didn't say it made sense. I said that's what these readings would indicate on an integrated computer network." "It stopped." "Stopped?" "Stopped." "Just like that?" "Just like that." "What's happening?" "Nothing. Or next to nothing. His neural net is now ticking along at the same snail pace as the rest of his physiology." Tom straightened up from his hunched position over the biobed's scanner console. "I have no idea what that means." B'Elanna thought rapidly. Her eyes darted to the readouts, to Vorik's still-as- death form, to a rack of healing instruments across the room, then back to Vorik's face. Like the eye of a storm, the Vulcan's face in the center of turmoil was as serene as the sculpted visage of an ancient saint. Her mind raced. She fought the urge to pace as her eyes resumed their frantic search for clues. She knew this. It had not been too long ago that she'd learned more than she'd ever wanted to about Vulcan physiology. She knew she knew this. What was it? Vorik's face caught her eyes again. So calm. So trance like. Like someone peacefully waiting. Suddenly the Vulcan's legs lifted off the bio bed, levering the unconscious man into a sitting position. "Steady him," she barked. "Okay," Tom gripped the Ensign's shoulders from behind. "What?" SMACK! B'Elanna's open hand slapped across Vorik's cheek. "Hey!" B'Elanna swung again, putting her whole body behind a ringing slap that barely turned the Vulcan's head. Tom released his shoulders, scrambling around the biobed to restrain his suddenly demented companion. He was too late to stop her third swing. Vorik caught her wrist inches from his face. "Thank you, Lieutenant." B'Elanna retrieved her arm. "You're welcome." Tom looked from Vorik's face, impassive despite the fading green hand print, to B'Elanna thoughtfully rubbing her wrist. "Did I just miss something here?" "The Vulcan healing trance." "The what?" "It's just what it looked like on the medical scanners." Still cradling her wrist, B'Elanna made a two handed gesture towards the display panel. "Vorik shut down his body, then purged it of the disease." Tom turned to Vorik. "Let me get this straight," his tone was incredulous. "You THOUGHT yourself well?" "Simply put, yes, Lieutenant," Vorik confirmed. "Then why did you hit him?" "Once a Vulcan has shut down like that, they need a sudden massive sensory input to get going again." She glanced down at the purple bruise encircling her wrist. "Sort of a kick-start. A slap in the face is traditional." Tom's questioning look was met with Vorik's affirming nod. "So why didn't you just do that when you first got sick?" "Because I did not realize I was ill," Vorik explained. "It appears that in Vulcans this subvirus causes a form of disassociative dementia." "Lik
e multiple personality disorder in humans?" "I have never heard of that condition," Vorik answered, " but it's name would imply a fundamental similarity." "So why did you collapse?" asked B'Elanna. "Unknown." "And you were doing so well," Tom remarked dryly. Vorik frowned thoughtfully for a moment. "Lieutenant Torres, I would recommend that any work I have done since the onset of this disease be double checked by someone other than myself," he said at last. "Why?" "There are periods of time for which I have no memory; yet while under the influence of this disease I was unaware that these lapses existed." The Vulcan shook his head. "I am not sure, but I believe that during my diassociated state I may have been susceptible to emotional motivation to my actions. I may have done some harm." B'Elanna raised an eyebrow at Tom. "Right," said Tom. He strove to look casual as he drifted toward the door separating them from the examining room. Even without B'Elanna's wrist to remind him, he knew no human could match a Vulcan's strength if it came to conflict. "I'll just tell the captain and Tuvok." "Tuvok!" *For a being without emotions,* Tom thought, *Vorik does an excellent impression of a man in a panic,* as he slid from the biobed and headed towards him. Tom's apprehension proved unfounded, however, when Vorik stopped a good five feet in front of him. The pilot heaved a quiet sigh of relief as the Vulcan began to speak in his calm, concise manner once again. "I do not think that would be wise, Lieutenant." Tom shot a glance at B'Elanna, who only raised an eyebrow in response. "Why not?" he asked slowly. "Although I do suffer from some missing memories while I was ill, I do have a complete memory of the events prior to my collapse. If I am to remember, the *peing-lak* was used for the vandalization of Lieutenant Torres' quarters?" "Yes?" "I have reason to believe that Lieutenant Tuvok may have been -- " Vorik was interrupted by the screaming Klaxon of a red alert. The red alert Klaxon propelled Captain Janeway through the examining room doors even as she hit her combadge. "Kim, report." As the ensign's voice replied, Janeway snagged Tom Paris with her eyes and he fell into hurried step behind her. She was gratified to glimpse B'Elanna Torres' heel disappearing through the doorway as the lieutenant hurried to Engineering. "The gravimetric generator just went critical," Ensign Kim's voice was tense but controlled. "I switched to auxiliary before it blew completely, but the back-up looks twitchy, too." Perhaps it was the power of suggestion, or perhaps it was the speed with which she rounded the corner on her way out of Sickbay, but Janeway felt a distinct wave of vertigo, nearly losing her balance in mid-step. She glanced behind her to see if the others had felt it and was surprised to see Tuvok apparently stumble into Vorik with uncharacteristic clumsiness before Chakotay, hurrying to catch up, blocked her view. The Sickbay doors slid shut and all of her attention was focused on the bridge ahead. "Inertial dampers went off-line when the gravametrics went up," Kim's voice went on. "Again, I got auxiliaries in on time, but their numbers don't look right either." "Smooth work," Paris commented behind her shoulder. "I didn't feel a thing." "I did," Chakotay's voice sounded calmer than she felt. Had he known in advance what would happen? "Like an extreme course change." "That was me slowing the ship down," said Kim over the com. "The least adjustment feels like emergency evasive maneuvers." "Slowing down?" demanded Janeway as the turbolift doors enclosed the three bridge officers. "Why?" "When we lost inertial dampers, the structural integrity fields began to degrade. Rapidly." "Without the integrity fields, the physical fabric of the ship is absorbing all the stress," Chakotay said. "Any sudden change in course or speed -- " "And Voyager breaks apart, yes I know," Janeway finished for him; impatient and regretting her impatience. "Ensign Kim, what's our current speed?" "Point six four impulse." "Nearly 173 million kilometers an hour," supplied Tom unnecessarily. "Thank God we weren't in warp." Janeway nodded and hit her combadge again. "Janeway to Torres." "I'm on it, Captain," B'Elanna's voice was crisp. "It's not good." The turbolift doors opened onto the bridge. Kim sprang gratefully from the command chair as Janeway stepped into the well. "Harry made all the right moves," the engineer's voice continued over the bridge speakers. "But whoever set this up anticipated every one of them." Janeway noted the eagerness with which Tom slid into the helm and the fussy precision with which Chakotay angled his auxiliary panel. Could one of them be responsible? They fit so naturally into their stations, like stones in their settings, that she could not see them as anything other than part of the life blood of Voyager. But if not them, who? "What do we need to do?" she asked the engineer. "We need to get below thirty thousand kilometers an hour before the inertial and integrity fields fail completely." B'Elanna's tone was distracted. In her mind's eye Janeway could see the younger woman scanning screen after diagnostic screen as she spoke -- searching for answers even as she explained the problem. "The trouble is, with the fields already depleted we can't decelerate fast enough. The harder we try to get down to safe speed, the faster the shields will fail." "Point six impulse," Tom announced. *Still over 160 million kilometers an hour above their safety margin,* Janeway thought. "What about primary systems?" she asked. "Any chance of reviving them before the back-up systems fail?" "If I knew what had brought them down," Torres' tone did not hold much hope, "maybe." Chakotay had been following that very path. "It's bad code," he announced, reading from his panel. "Several tiers thick; interleaved with the diagnostic sub-routines." "Then whoever set this up didn't get into the gravimetric or inertial systems at all." It didn't have to be someone in her inner circle; didn't have to be one of her friends. "Right," Chakotay confirmed. "It was a Trojan Horse waiting for the automatic maintenance cycle to open the right gate." "There's no way to know when that would happen," Janeway pointed out. "We could have been in warp when this kicked in." "Perhaps. But whoever did this probably realized we'd be at sublight speeds until the Enkema-3 crisis was resolved." "Even so," the captain turned to regard the young ensign -- who chose this moment to become deeply engrossed in the displays at his science station. "If Harry hadn't kept a cool head at full impulse, Voyager might have broken up in deep space. One hundred and seventy million kilometers an hour is more than any ship can handle on its own." Janeway noticed the empty security station and frowned slightly to herself. She'd expected Tuvok to step through the turbolift doors moments after she'd taken her chair. She wondered briefly what problem had delayed him on his way, but quickly returned her focus to the crisis at hand. "Can you work with this, Lieutenant?" she addressed B'Elanna in Engineering. "Now that I know what it is," came the quick reply. "There is no way I can fix that before the auxiliaries fail." "Point five seven impulse," said Kim. *Nearly 154 million kilometers an hour,* thought Janeway. "You're bringing it down too fast, Tom," B'Elanna warned. Tom shook his head in quick denial. Janeway could see his internal struggle reflected in the bunching of his shoulder muscles and the defiant tilt of his head. How much did he resent being reigned in, controlled by those in authority? Finally, though it was perhaps only a handful of seconds, he reached some compromise between what his pilot's instincts told him and the structural data B'Elanna was feeding directly into his console. His shoulders relaxed slightly and he touched minute changes into his control settings. "Better," B'Elanna conceded. "But still not good enough," Tom countered. Janeway resisted the temptation to have Tom display their velocity reading on the main view screen. "What about tractor beams?" Harry Kim's voice sounded surprised that he had spoken. "Tractor beams?" Chakotay asked. "Tractor beams can be used to augment a ship's structural integrity fields." "They can augment the fields of another ship," Chakotay agreed. "That's standard in rescue operations. But a ship cannot use its tractor beams to strengthen its own fields." "What about the shuttles?" "You mean use our shuttles' tractor beams to reinforce Voyager's structural integrity fields?" asked Janeway. "Right." "Harry, that's brilliant." She turned to her executive officer. "Chakotay, coordinate with Torres and Paris. Find out how many shuttles you'll need to hold us together, then fly in tight formation with Voyager until we are stopped -- and I mean stopped -- in space. We are going to inspect and double check every square centimeter of this ship before we move again
. I'm not giving this saboteur another chance." Chakotay entered the turbolift, already summoning shuttle pilots to meet him on the hangar deck. Janeway found herself frowning once again at the empty security station. Where was Tuvok? She keyed her combadge. "Janeway to Tuvok," she called. Then, after a moment, "Tuvok, respond." It was the doctor's voice that answered her. "I don't believe he can." "What do you mean, Doctor?" "I'm not really sure," the doctor's tone was speculative. "There's something here in Sickbay you really must take a look at." * * * * * "Doctor, report," Janeway said as she came rushing through the doors to Sickbay. The sight that greeted her eyes was astonishing. Mikel Hudson was holding down a struggling Lieutenant Ayala, while Ethan Simms was sitting on a screaming, snarling Gerron. Sitting behind them all, firmly grasping Tuvok and looking as agitated as Janeway had ever seen a Vulcan look, was Ensign Vorik. On the biobed next to him, Tuvok, a greenish bruise beginning to develop along his jawbone, was behaving as if he were in a great deal of pain, judging from the grunts and jerky movements he was making. The doctor was at that moment trying to use an osteoregenerator upon the bruised area of the security chief's jaw. Simms spoke up first. "Captain, I'm sorry that we prevented Commander Tuvok from coming to the bridge in the middle of a red alert. Just before the Klaxon sounded, Hudson and I had to restrain Ayala and Gerron from fighting with each other in the mess hall." "Yes, Captain," chimed in Hudson. We couldn't call for emergency beam out in the middle of the red alert for this, so we had to walk them to Sickbay." The doctor picked up the next part of the narrative. "When they got here, they both broke free of the security men just as the commander was leaving to join you on the bridge. I'm not sure which of them did it, but someone broke Commander Tuvok's jaw. While Mr. Simms and Mr. Hudson were trying to wrestle down the combatants, I was endeavoring to examine the commander while Ensign Vorik held him down, but Lieutenant Ayala and Gerron became aggressive towards each other again." "Captain, they were trying to kill each other!" exclaimed Simms. Janeway looked at the two figures, still struggling on the floor. "Can't you sedate them?" she asked with annoyance. Her ship was endangered, on the verge of breaking apart, and she was being called for this? "Captain, they ARE under sedation. I don't dare give them any more and risk an overdose that could be life-threatening. I was going to have them beamed directly to the brig, but I thought you'd better see these, first." Nodding to Hudson and Simms, the doctor continued as the two security officers yanked up the sleeves of their struggling captives. Angry red welts were revealed on the arms of both. "As you can see, Captain," the EMH continued, "both of them are clearly infected with Enkema-3. I really would prefer to hold them here if we can get a second forcefield set up in the treatment area. I can seal one of them off, but not both. I don't advise putting them in together." Janeway agreed, "Of course, Doctor. Can't Commander Tuvok set it up for you?" "That's inadvisable, Captain, even if I had managed to heal his broken jaw sufficiently to permit him to talk." Sighing in resignation, Janeway asked, "Ensign Vorik, are you sufficiently stable to take on this task?" "That is problematical, Captain. I have been experiencing periods of blackouts over the last several days, during which times I have apparently been doing things aboard ship that I cannot account for. I am requesting that I be taken off duty until such time as the doctor can be sure I am no longer being negatively affected by this viral condition." "I appreciate your candor, Vorik." The captain tapped her combadge. "Janeway to Torres. What's our speed, B'Elanna? Did using the shuttle tractor beams work to slow us down?" "We've gotten down to fifty thousand kilometers an hour, Captain. We should be at full stop in less than thirty seconds." "Good. Stand down from red alert. Can you spare anyone from Engineering? We need to augment the forcefields in here for two prisoners." Janeway could not believe she was saying this. And about Gerron and Ayala, two of the gentlest souls on the ship, ordinarily! "I think I can come up, Captain. Things are under control here with Lieutenant Carey back on duty. And captain, we're at twenty thousand kilometers per second as we speak." "Come on up then, B'Elanna. We've got a brig to set up here in Sickbay." "Yes, Captain, you do. And there is one other person I believe we will need to confine," added the doctor. Janeway turned towards him expectantly. "Who?" "Commander Tuvok. I was trying to let you know at the point that the Klaxon intervened was that the apparent cause of the comatose state for Dr. Hacent and Ensign Garvic was not the Enkema-3 virus." Tuvok grunted audibly as Vorik tightened his hold upon his superior officer. "Dr. Hacent appears to have suffered from a telepathically-induced mental collapse. I believe she would have died, had she not already managed to rouse Ensign Garvic sufficiently for him to drag her back to semi-consciousness with him. They are asleep now, but it is a natural sleep. However, my suspicions had been aroused when I realized this, and when Ayala and Gerron attacked Commander Tuvok, I was myself endeavoring to prevent him from leaving Sickbay. I have reason to believe that he, too, is infected with Enkema-3." One look at the face of Tuvok chilled her blood. The black eyes looking out at her were not those of her old friend, but of some alien creature, wild, deranged. Someone totally different. Someone she didn't know. At a nod from the doctor, she approached the biobed. Both the doctor and Vorik were struggling with controlling the Vulcan commander. She met those infuriated, angry eyes. Despite their effect on her, she rolled up Tuvok's left sleeve. The angry welt ran along the inner side of his forearm, from wrist to elbow, oozing a greenish pus. Shaking her head, Janeway stepped back and tapped her badge. "To all personnel: I need anyone who has noted unusual behavior, including blackouts, in themselves or other staff to contact the EMH to report their symptoms." Tapping her badge again, she went on, "To all senior officers: As soon as we can verify the ship is at full stop and out of immediate danger, I want all senior staff to report to Sickbay. We need to get to the bottom of this situation immediately! Janeway out." "Doctor, as soon as we can get Tuvok, Ayala and Gerron sufficiently restrained, I want everyone on this vessel to receive a physical examination. If anyone else has one of these welts on his or her body, we need to know it! Now!" She agitatedly smacked her combadge again. "I need additional security personnel in Sickbay at once!" She then turned again to stare into the eyes of the still struggling Vulcan commander. "Doctor, let me make sure I understand correctly. This sub-virus, Enkema-3. It causes coma in humans, but in other species of humanoids it causes insanity?" "Well," panted the doctor. "I'm not sure about insanity. Neurosis, psychosis, dementia, aggression, hysterics, and emotional instability to say the least, however. I can't rule out -- " At this, Tuvok gave a mighty heave and threw off Vorik and the doctor. He jumped towards Janeway with his hands outstretched towards her slender throat. Janeway instinctively jumped backwards. Hudson and Simms dropped Gerron and Ayala who immediately went right for each other once again. Tuvok was too close and too fast for either of them. As his hands closed around her throat, his eyes flew open, as if surprised and terrified by what he was doing. The force of his leap carried them both down hard to the floor. All could hear the gut wrenching *whack* as Janeway's skull came in contact with the hard frame of a biobed. Simms grabbed Tuvok and pulled him away. "He's dead, Doctor," said the security man. The doctor snatched up his tricorder. "No, he's unconscious. They both are." "I guess these 'black-outs' prove who our saboteur is," said Hudson. At this, Ensign Vorik's eyes widened almost imperceptibly, but he said nothing. "Not necessarily," began the doctor, gently lifting the captain. "When -- " "It's him," said a groggy voice. Ensign Jack Garvic stood unsteadily in the doorway of the isolation room, gazing dazedly at the group assembled before him. "I watched him . . . walking . . . 'round the ship . . . doing things in . . . access panels . . . and . . . conduits. When I asked . . . " he trailed off, then came back into focus. "He laughed at me. He LAUGHED at me. I tried to . . . call for help. I don't remember anymore." "Mr. Garvic, get back into bed immediately or you will be sedated! You'll be sedated anyway! Your sub-cranial spinal area is in NO shape for you to be standing! Do you want to be permanently paralyzed? Ensign Vorik -- " Once again
the doc was silenced by the red alert Klaxon. "Paris to the captain! We've got problems! Captain, respond!" "The captain is incapacitated, Mr. Paris," snapped the doctor. "We have our own problems. Take your problems elsewhere!" "But, Doc, you don't understand! When we came to a full stop, something triggered the self-destruct command! All our screens went blank except for the message 'NOW YOU'VE DONE IT' with a happy face! Chakotay's still off the ship, and we're going to blow in three minutes! Where's Tuvok? Who's in charge?" "That would be you, Mr. Paris. Commander Tuvok is out of the picture as well." "Me?" Tom faltered. "Harry, hail the commander!" "The self-destruct command has all subspace communications blocked, Tom. I'm rerouting power to try to compensate." The computer chirped up, "Self-destruct in two minutes, forty-five seconds." "Paris to computer: shut down all previous orders. Command code: Paris Epsilon 147." "Access denied. Self-destruct in two minutes, forty seconds. Have a nice day." "Harry! SHUT THAT THING UP!" Tom Paris stood still, rooted in fear for a moment. While he liked command, these were not the kind of decisions he wanted to be making. Taking a deep breath, he centered himself, and called out. "Bridge to all hands. Evacuate to escape pods immediately. This is not a drill, people. Evacuate now!" Cutting the line, he whirled around, fixing his gaze on Kim. "Harry, have you raised the commander yet?" "Uh, no, not yet," admitted Harry, his voice strained. "But I'm on it." "Self-destruct in 2 minutes and 20 seconds," reminded the computer much more quietly. "Sorry," apologized Harry, quickly hitting a series of commands. "It'll be a silent countdown now." "Good," agreed Tom from Harry's elbow. He glanced around the bridge. Everyone was still at his or her station. "Don't any of you know how to follow a direct order? Get out now! Batehart! Lang! Everyone! Go!" Reluctantly, all the crew except for Paris and Kim filed quickly into the turbolift. "We've two minutes," Harry informed Tom, glancing at the ops panel. "I still can't raise Chakotay. The first of the pods just launched. What do we do?" "You're the computer expert, Harry," reminded Tom, unnaturally calm. "What do you think?" "We need to get to the core, I guess. We can't override from here. We probably can't override from there, but it's our best shot," answered Harry, leading Tom to the turbolift door. "I guess I should have asked before I sent them all away," murmured Paris ruefully. "I'm sorry, Harry. I'm not going to order you to stay. You can--" "Don't even say it, Tom," denied Harry. "This we're in together." The turbolift door slid open to reveal B'Elanna Torres. Paris and Kim hustled her back into the car before she could take more than one step. "What part of 'evacuate now' do you not understand?" demanded Tom, his voice laced equally with anger and fear. "Don't pull rank on me now, Paris," B'Elanna ordered. "We're headed for the main core?" "Yes," answered Harry. He checked a wall panel as the turbolift door slid open. "Let's see what we can do in a 1:30." The three sprinted the few meters between the turbolift and the computer core housing. Harry tried calling out an access code, but the door remained firmly in place. B'Elanna tapped her code quickly into the access panel, and was also denied. "Now what?" she snarled. "Weapons locker," decided Tom authoritatively. "We've got nothing to lose now." He led the other two in a quick jog to the end of the hallway, where, using their combined strength, they were able to pry open the locker. They each pulled out a phaser rifle. "Set them to overload and give them to me," commanded Tom. "What are you talking about?" argued B'Elanna even as she complied. "That's not going to work." "We've only got 45 seconds," reminded Tom. "We don't have any hope of actually getting into the core," he decided, taking their rifles from them. "Take cover, around the corner, both of you. That's an order!" Tom sprinted back down the hallway, spurred on by the insistent whine of three phaser rifles about to overload. He dropped them against the door to the computer core, then turned and ran. He could see Harry dragging B'Elanna further down the passage as he followed them around the corner. "Keep going!" he yelled. The blast from behind was loud but certainly not strong enough to knock Tom down. Glancing at a wall panel, Tom noticed that the countdown had finally stopped at 7 seconds. "Wahoo!" he cried gleefully. "We did it!" He ran the last few meters to Harry and B'Elanna, enveloping them both in a bear hug. Letting go of Harry, Tom proceeded to thoroughly kiss B'Elanna. Harry was just beginning to feel superfluous when Tom's combadge chirped. "Chakotay to Paris. What the hell have you done now?" demanded the first officer. Letting go of B'Elanna, Tom stammered, "Uh, stopped the self-destruct sequence by blowing the main computer core?" replied Tom uncertainly. "I don't think so, Tom," contradicted B'Elanna gently. "There's no way we'd still have lights, let alone internal communication, if you had." "Oh," remarked Tom lamely, leading the other two back toward the computer core. "Well, what happened then?" "The bridge crew contacted my shuttle when they launched their escape pod. Apparently, whatever our saboteur did to Voyager's systems did not affect the shuttles' computers. I disabled the self-destruct from the Sacajawea," explained Chakotay. "I was then able to access Voyager's internal sensors. The three of you seem to be standing on the same deck as a small fire," he informed them. "Yeah," sighed Tom, putting up both arms to keep B'Elanna and Harry from walking any closer to the melted, burning lump of former phaser rifles which now lay in front of the core's housing. The door now boasted a substantial hole, but it was protected by a fully functional forcefield. "It's a fire, all right." "Well, it was a good idea," comforted B'Elanna as the ship's fire suppression system finally kicked in. "Really," she smiled up at him, snaking a soggy arm around his equally soaked waist. The three friends stood together, taking time to catch their breaths, as they watched the water hit the shimmering forcefield, sizzle, and bounce off. "Ah, do you think you three could do something about getting us all back on board?" interrupted Chakotay urgently over the open com line. "The doctor says he needs to get the captain into surgery right away." Chakotay's eyes searched the sensor displays even as his hands danced across the control console. The life pods drifting in an expanding cloud away from Voyager like dandelion seeds wafting on the breeze were nearly identical and he had to locate his captain as quickly as possible. Unable to access the search capabilities of the ship's computer while Torres and Kim initiated a clean restart to purge its systems of any other programs that might turn Voyager into a death trap, he had to scan each pod individually, reading the ID transponder encoded in the combadge of each of the crewmembers aboard. It was slow work. He glanced at the Garn vessel that had approached during the emergency deceleration. The reddish brown block of a ship, about half of Voyager's mass, hung silently a safe distance beyond the starship. He wondered briefly what sense of aesthetics would cause an otherwise sensitive and intelligent people to design a space ship that looked like nothing so much as a badly chipped brick. The cloud of dandelion seeds stopped expanding as the life pods halted in their flight and reversed course to return to the ship. The process would take several minutes; perhaps an hour. "We stand ready to assist you in any way we can," a voice he realized must be Garn came over the shuttle's audio circuit without preamble or greeting. "What must be done first?" Chakotay paused for a moment, organizing his thoughts. As he drew breath to speak, he was interrupted by the same Garn voice: "Engineering staff to operate the transporters and return the crew quickly to the ship are aboard the life pods which now appear bright yellow to you." Chakotay looked from his scanner display to the transparent aluminum view port and noticed three life pods newly suffused in a cheerful xanthene glow. "People from your Sickbay are in those pods which you now see as blue." Two sparks of brilliant cyan. A quick glance at the sensor readings confirmed that the pods were unchanged; the colors were purely mental, the telepathic transmissions of the Garn. As he guided his shuttle deftly through the slowly returning life pods toward the bright blue pair, he wondered briefly if the Garn had "overheard" his thoughts about the ugliness of their vessel. He regretted any offense his opinion may have given. "There was no offense," the Garn voice answered his thought. "Many of our number have wondered in the same way about your flying slime turtle." The corner of Chakotay's mouth twitched with the ghost of a rueful smile. "Can you
cause the other shuttle pilots to see these colors?" he asked. "Of course," said the voice. "If they are open to us." "Please guide them to the yellow pods," Chakotay requested. As he reached to switch the shuttle's subspace radio to the intra-ship general address frequency his hand froze for a moment above the control. It was set on the shuttle command channel; unable to receive non-Federation signals. The Garn "audio transmission" had been inside his head. He snorted softly to himself, then activated the general address: "This is Commander Chakotay. We will begin using the shuttle's transporters to beam essential personnel aboard Voyager shortly, beginning with ship's transporter technicians," he announced. "This will take a few minutes because the shuttles have to be close by to use their transporters for point-to-point among all these pods." "Once they are aboard, they will begin transporting all of you back aboard Voyager," he paused for a moment to bring his own shuttle to a relative stop by the two life pods that still glowed blue to his eyes. "We'll rely on the ship's automated redocking system to return the empty life pods to their berths," he finished. "Commander?" "Yes, Doctor?" "The transporters' bioscans can be adjusted to detect the Enkema-3 subvirus." "They can not be used to beam the disease out of the patients," Chakotay interrupted. "Believe me, Commander, I am intimately acquainted with all of the computer programs aboard Voyager and am fully aware of their limitations," the doctor's tone was dry. "I was about to suggest that the transporters be used for detection and quarantine. All those infected with Enkema-3 could be automatically transported to a central location -- the mess hall for example -- where members of the biology department can act as medicos, administering the treatments." "Excellent suggestion, Doctor." "Those with me should be transported directly to Sickbay, of course." "Of course," Chakotay agreed. "Stand by for transport." Chakotay stepped through the hangar deck doors and strode down the corridor like an elemental force. Tom Paris, hurrying to meet him, was left standing as he swept past without comment or even a glance. The lieutenant had to scurry to catch up with his commander at the turbolift. "Welcome back," he said lightly as the lift began to move. When Chakotay did not respond, he asked in a more serious tone, "Would you like a report on the repairs?" "In the midst of a crisis, you ordered the specialists already in a position to deal with it to abandon ship." "But procedure -- " "Procedure is to evacuate non-essential personnel," Chakotay cut him off, "and to make sure the people who can do something are able to do their jobs." "Sir -- " "Tom," Chakotay turned to face the lieutenant, his gaze riveting the younger man where he stood. "What you did was brave. No question. But it wasn't smart. Bravado is not going to get us home. Intelligence is." Before Tom could reply, the turbolift doors opened and Ensign Harry Kim started to step aboard. He froze with one foot over the threshold as the emotional energy trapped in the tiny chamber registered. He stood for a moment, rolling his eyes back and forth from one rigid statue to the other. "Will that be all?" Tom asked stiffly. "No," said Chakotay, but rather than continue he turned his head to Kim. "You have something to report?" "Yes, sir." Harry handed the padd he held to the commander. He cut his eyes toward Tom as he continued. "It's a breakdown of all the Trojan horses we found in the computer system. There were booby traps in everything from astrogation to replication; any one of which could have tied us in knots." "Individual programs?" asked Chakotay. "Self-contained?" "Yes, sir," confirmed the ensign. "No one booby trap would have lead us to any of the others." "Then the self-destruct sequence was not related to the structural field failure?" Tom couldn't help asking. "I thought one triggered the other." "No connection," Kim shrugged. "The timing was just luck." "Something in every department," Chakotay said half to himself as he scanned through the padd's contents. "Only someone at command level could have done that." "Oh, no, sir," interjected Kim. "No?" "No," Kim explained earnestly. "Anybody with a security ID code could overcome the lockout protocols with an emergency over ride sequence." "But the self-destruct sequence -- " "Normally that would be command," Harry conceded, "but if someone with a security override was able to get into certain parts of the system -- root level on internal sensor analysis, for example -- it's actually a pretty straight forward hack to get access. You'd need patience and a bit of luck more than anything else." Chakotay took a deep cleansing breath and let it out slowly as he thought. "Someone in security." Kim shrugged again, obviously not comfortable committing himself on this dangerous supposition, but unable to deny the evidence. "That would be my guess," he said, "based on the evidence." Chakotay tapped his com badge. "Chakotay to Seven of Nine." "Here," came the crisp reply from both the air above their heads and several meters down the corridor behind Kim as he stood in the still open doorway of the turbolift. Tom was startled to see an almost paternal expression in Chakotay's eyes as he watched Seven stride purposefully toward them; graceful despite the tortuous boots that Borg modifications to her body structure forced her to wear. *But then, why not?* he reasoned. Chakotay had been locked in a Borg mindlink with her; giving her the strength -- even when she wasn't fully sure she wanted it -- to break her enforced link to the Borg Collective. Chakotay had enabled her to become an individual, and if that wasn't presiding over someone's birth, Tom didn't know what was. Kim's look, his expression, his whole body language, revealed that he saw something no one else could see as he watched Seven approach. Tom knew that for his young friend he and Chakotay had ceased to exist. Though she did not stare directly at him, Tom suspected that for her part Seven of Nine was far more aware of the Ensign than she was of the commander and lieutenant who flanked him. "Seven of Nine," Chakotay said when she was within comfortable earshot, "I'm drafting you as a special security consultant to Starfleet." The former Borg blinked, but did not otherwise respond. Harry looked troubled, glancing from Seven to his Commander. Chakotay turned to Tom. "I need at least one other person," he said. "Someone not in security -- and not in the mess hall right now -- who is strong, level-headed, and willing to obey instantly in a crisis." "There is a Dhrone from structural maintenance," said Seven of Nine before Tom could answer. "Species 1642. They are intelligent and powerfully built." "She's right," confirmed Tom. "Technical Specialist D'ahneau. His people are arboreal -- he's literally built like an ape." Kim nodded in support. Chakotay vaguely remembered the man; they'd spoken perhaps a half dozen times in his years aboard Voyager. How could people still remain strangers on a ship so small so far from home? He recalled D'ahneau as standing a head taller than himself, barrel-chested, with a skin tone that reminded Chakotay of a bad sunburn and powerful arms that reached nearly to his knees. Handing Harry back his padd, Chakotay drew a smaller one from his belt and began typing as he spoke. "I don't want to broadcast my intentions to anyone who may be near him," he explained, then turned to Seven. "Take this to D'ahneau. It contains orders similar to the ones I've given you and instructs him to accompany you. I want the two of you to meet me in Sickbay as quickly as possible." "Understood." "Harry." Ensign Kim's head snapped around from admiring Seven's departure to regarding Chakotay attentively. "Sir?" "I know you can't find a link between the Trojan horse programs," the commander said, "but I want to see if you can establish a pattern as to which terminals were used to create them. We may be able to determine who wrote them by where they were written." "Yes, sir," said Kim, backing out of the turbolift. "I'll get right on it." The doors sighed shut and the lift resumed its journey. "Tom," said Chakotay, returning with less heat but no less conviction to the discussion Kim had interrupted. "We have very limited resources here in the Delta Quadrant, but our most valuable are our people. Us. Each other. We are a family, and each has his or her valuable and indispensable gift to give to the whole. You can't do everything on your own, no matter how much you want to protect everyone else. You jeopardize all of us when you try. Teamwork is what will get us home. Remember that." "I will, sir." The lift doors opened and the two men, united, strode purposefully toward Sickbay. As Tom Paris and Chakotay entered Sickbay, the commander's stricken gaze was drawn to Captain Janeway's unconscious form on Biobed 1. Tom's eyes qui
ckly scanned the other occupants of the room: Tuvok, leaning on a second biobed for support, with his lower face covered by a silver stabilizing shield; Ayala and Gerron sitting near each other at the opposite side of the room with their heads lowered, looking for all the world horribly hung over; Simms, Hudson, and Vorik hovering uneasily near each of the other three as though unsure whether to treat them as patients or prisoners. "Ah, Mr. Paris," the doctor said brightly as he bent over the still Captain's head. "Just the man I wanted to see." As he moved closer, Tom noted first that the doctor had not taken the time to remove his mobile emitter since the evacuation and, second, that his entire left hand and the fingers of his right were sunk inside Janeway's head and neck. Even knowing that the doctor was a holographic projection, the sight was unsettling. "My designers chose to limit me to two appendages," the doctor continued breezily, "and I need an osteostimulator directed at the hairline skull fracture I am currently holding together." Tom quickly snatched up the correct instrument, then paused uncertainly. "Set at level four," instructed the doctor, as if to a small child. "Focal point twelve centimeters, and place it at the base of her jaw angled 28 degrees down from the horizontal." "How's this?" "That's 30 degrees, but close enough. I'll interface it's guidance system directly for the actual work." The device hummed and beeped in Tom's hands, seeming to have a life of its own. The doctor's face furrowed in concentration as another part of his medical program directed the healing energy inside the captain's skull. Tom felt his hands begin to sweat as he strained to hold the osteostimulator as rigidly still as possible. "That should do it," the EMH said at last. As the doctor withdrew his hands from within the captain and reached for a neck stabilizer from the sterile table next to him, Tom was chagrined to realize he'd half-expected them to be bloody. The doctor, human as he was in personality, was a projected energy field and could pass through any solid object without interacting. Chakotay indicated with a tilt of his head that Tom should take up his pre- arranged position. Tom set down the osteostimulator and moved quickly to his station just inside the Sickbay doors. His timing was perfect; he met Seven of Nine and D'ahneau just as they arrived. Tom quickly pulled the two aside to convey the instructions Chakotay had given him on the way from the turbolift. "Since we know the saboteur has a security ID code, you're security until we're sure of our man," he said in a low voice. His two listeners nodded. "When Commander Chakotay determines the killer, he needs you to respond instantly." "Execution will be immediate?" asked Seven. "No, Seven," Tom said patiently, "no executions." He wondered briefly about Harry's insistence that Seven often exercised a macabre sense of humor, but dismissed the notion quickly. "You are to take the killer into custody and book him." Confronted with three raised eyebrows, he explained. "Record formal charges in the ship's log. It's important we follow all the regs to prevent any emotional over reactions." "Sir?" Tom was surprised by the light tenor tone of the giant Dhrone's voice. "Yes, D'ahneau?" "Has anyone actually been killed?" "No." "Then why does everyone call whoever is doing this the 'killer?'" "We've got assault, threats of murder, sabotage of ship's systems, and at least two attempts to destroy Voyager completely," Tom shrugged. "He's a killer. Just not a successful one." "So far," said Seven. "So far," agreed Tom. Tom resumed his station inside the Sickbay doors as Seven and D'ahneau took up positions flanking Chakotay in the center of the room. Each was ready to instantly do whatever was required. For his part, Chakotay regarded the silvery support he had watched the doctor adjust around Captain Janeway's head and neck. He thought it looked like nothing so much as a helmet from a medieval tale of chivalry and sorcery. "Kathryn of Arc," he murmured to himself before turning his attention to the others in the room. "You've been busy," he observed. "We like to keep occupied," the doctor agreed. "Care to make a report?" "No one here has chosen to pay the least attention to the Garn explanation of how this plague of theirs is supposed to progress," the EMH explained. "Which is not surprising since no one on board is Garn, except for Dr. Hacent. The truly odd part is the number of people who had symptoms at all close to them; random chance and bizarre coincidence." He sighed, surveying the room as though deciding where to begin. Though Tuvok straightened to something like attention, no one seemed willing to interrupt the doctor's monologue. "Messers Ayala and Gerron," said the doctor, indicating the two seated men Simms and Hudson hovered over, "have presented fits of uncontrolled rage and single- minded violent aggression." "On the other hand," he continued, turning to his left, "Ensign Vorik and Commander Tuvok have demonstrated that Vulcans infected with Enkema-3 enter into periodic fugue states during which they behave irrationally and have no memory of their actions." The doctor gestured towards the closed door of the examination room. "In fact, Mr. Tuvok seems to have sent Dr. Hacent and Ensign Garvic into deep comas by either initiating a mindmeld while in fugue or having a seizure while already in meld attempting to support Dr. Hacent. We don't know because, of course, he doesn't remember." Tuvok's pain and embarrassment at this revelation was apparent to all who knew him; though to the casual observer he appeared no more than thoughtful. The fact that Vorik exactly mirrored his racial brother's stance and demeanor indicated to those who understood Vulcans that he felt his kinsman's pain and shame and stood ready to support him. "Mr. Tuvok also managed to crack the captain's skull," the doctor added as an afterthought. Tuvok was unable to meet Chakotay's eye. "For his part, after being partially revived from his Enkema-3 induced coma, then knocked into a deeper one by the bungled mindmeld," continued the doctor as though blithely unaware of his further humiliation of Tuvok, "Ensign Garvic managed a rather remarkable parody of the Biblical Lazarus by shuffling out here and hurling delirious accusations before collapsing." "He was not delirious," Vorik spoke up. "He was disoriented, struggling, and on the verge of mental collapse; but he clearly understood what he meant to convey." "Which was?" Chakotay prompted. "That the saboteur who attacked him was in this room at that time." "Who was in this room at that time?" "The people you see here now, of course," the EMH broke in impatiently. "That's why I insisted they be brought back here." Chakotay looked into the eyes of each man in turn, seeking to know their hearts. Simms and Hudson came to attention, their loyalty obvious. But what did willing loyalty mean in the face of a disease that caused madness? Ayala managed to raise his head to regard the commander through an obvious haze of pain and nausea. Gerron seemed too ill to do more than roll his head to one side for a sullen glance. Vorik's gaze was level, revealing nothing a human could understand. Tuvok looked up with obvious effort, but over his silver mask he met Chakotay's eyes with firm resolve. So much for the windows of the soul revealing guilt. "Did Ensign Garvic accuse anyone in particular?" "He did seem to indicate Ensign Vorik," offered the doctor. "I was simply the person standing nearest him in the direction he indicated," Vorik countered. "That's true," Simms supported. "Ayala was only a few steps past Vorik in the direction Garvic pointed." "Actually, it was more of a wave," the doctor corrected, "or perhaps a shooing motion." "It could even have been Ethan or me," added Hudson. "We were right there, practically in a straight line, helping the doc with Tuvok and Captain Janeway." "It's Ayala." Head still bowed, Gerron's voice grated with unaccustomed rage. "No!" the security man jumped to his feet then swayed uncertainly in reaction to the sudden movement. "It's true," Gerron, head still hung, insisted. "There was a safety protocol -- " "No!" Ayala repeated. He staggered back a step, grabbing the edge of a console to keep his balance. "I told you I didn't do it!" "A coolant purge safety had been overridden," Gerron's voice grew stronger, his righteous anger giving him the energy to at last sit up straight. "Ayala's security ID code was in the bypass command." "No!" Ayala glanced desperately about the room; disoriented, unable to focus. "It wasn't me!" "Wait a minute," Ethan Simms spoke up. "Remember when I said I'd seen pictures of those metal bars?" Hudson nodded. "Ayala had them. He'd made hard copy of -- " With a muffled roar, Tuvok launched himself across the room toward the hapless Ayala. As the others stood transfixed by the sight of an enraged Vulcan
, Seven of Nine moved with uncanny speed to block his charge. Her Borg augmented left arm easily parried his first blow, but she was unprepared for the Vulcan neck pinch. She dropped bonelessly to the floor. Simms and Hudson, jolted from their shocked immobility by Seven's action, bent low and charged Tuvok as a team. Side by side, their shoulders struck their superior's midsection at the same instant, their combined strength just sufficient to stagger the man back into Vorik's grasp. Ayala broke for the door in a staggering run. Gerron lurched from his chair with a feeble grab which Ayala managed to elude before he then fell to the deck. Chakotay caught a handful of the fugitive's uniform as he passed and swung him easily into the waiting D'ahneau's arms. The red giant simply wrapped the smaller man in an inescapable bear hug. Chakotay stepped quickly to Gerron's side, helping him back into his chair. A quick glance confirmed Tom helping Simms and Hudson to their feet and the doctor bent over the supine Seven. Vorik held Tuvok in a Vulcan grip that looked suspiciously like a full Nelson. Sure the situation was in hand, the commander returned to consider the prisoner. For a moment he watched the desperate man struggling feebly in the Dhrone's massive grip. He could find no words to say to this man who had almost destroyed them all. Had almost killed Kathryn. He sighed, then he looked up, meeting the newly appointed Dhrone security man's eye and said firmly: "Book him, D'ahneau." * * * * * "Well, that should just about do it," Ensign Samantha Wildman informed Garvic, her voice neutral. She crossed the small isolation room to stow the large osteo- regenerator unit in a lower cabinet. "I've repaired all of the damage I can. You should be able to move your head safely now," she told him, "Although you may be sore for awhile. Your vertebrae are still weak and getting up like you did certainly didn't help." Garvic wanted to protest that he hadn't known he was being treated for a broken neck, but he doubted Wildman was interested in anything he had to say. He was impressed that she managed to be civil. He wasn't going to push his luck. Samantha moved to the computer console, tapped a few commands, then looked up, her eyes darting back and forth between the two biobeds. "I've set the computer to monitor both of your vitals. You both need to rest. The doctor's busy treating the captain at the moment, so if you need anything please page me. I'm going to go check on my daughter, if you don't need anything else." "I'm fine, Ensign Wildman. Thank you," answered Garvic softly. "As am I," came the answer from the other bed. Samantha Wildman, with a quick nod of acknowledgment, exited the room. "She doesn't like me very much," commented Garvic idly, hoping for a response. He hadn't had much opportunity for casual conversation over the last year, and so he craved it. Hacent, being from a telepathic society, and therefore unaccustomed to lying, didn't even consider protesting his statement. "No, she doesn't," she agreed. Garvic moved carefully onto his side, not wanting to re-injure his neck, but interested in seeing who his companion was. Her lyrical voice, which even the Universal Translator couldn't ruin, soothed him. "I don't think we've been formally introduced," he tried, hoping that humor might work for him. It seemed to work for Tom Paris, after all. Too well, in his opinion. "I'm Jack Garvic. *Ensign* Jack Garvic," he added, choking on his rank. "Yes, I know," replied Hacent quietly. "I am Lioree Hacent. Doctor Lioree Hacent. I am from the Garn. Many members of Voyager's crew, including yourself, were infected with the Enkema-3 virus. It is my specialty, and I came aboard to help with eradication." "Ah, so that's why my head hurts more than usual," concluded Garvic with a yawn. He pulled the blanket up around his shoulders more tightly before continuing. "You did something, didn't you? In my mind? You helped me wake up." "Yes, I did," confirmed Lioree, turning on her side to look at Garvic. "I am telepathic. All of the Garn are telepathic." Jack gasped when he saw her face. The eyes were wrong, and the ear he could see didn't have the elfish point to it, but the resemblance was remarkable. "You -- You look a lot like Kes," he stammered. "It's been mentioned," replied Lioree with a wry smile. "Was she your friend?" Garvic let loose a harsh bark of laughter at Lioree's question, startling her. "No, we weren't friends, really," he told her finally. "She was always nice to me. Even the few times I saw her afterwards." He didn't define afterwards, and she didn't ask, much to his relief. "No, Kes, like Ensign Wildman, and pretty much everyone else on this ship -- especially the women -- are friends with Paris, not me." "And, why not?" she asked. "Lieutenant Paris seems very nice. Quite charming." "Another member of the Paris Fan Club, eh? Well, watch out for Torres. She's pretty territorial," warned Garvic, turning on to his back. This conversation certainly wasn't going anywhere he was interested in. *You shouldn't blame Tom Paris for what has happened to you, Jack. And, I don't think you do. Not anymore. So, why do you pretend like this?* Garvic turned sharply, wrenching his neck painfully, to stare at Lioree. "What? How? What are you doing?" "I apologize," Lioree blushed appealingly. "It is wrong for me to do that without permission, or at least without warning you. But, I wanted to get your attention." "Are you reading my mind?" he asked warily. "I don't READ minds, per se. I see into them, sensing emotion and thought. And, I'm not doing so now. As I said, I shouldn't do that without permission. However, I did access your thoughts and feelings earlier, while you were in your coma," she explained. "And, I entered your mind telepathically to help lead you back." "I remember," murmured Garvic. "You told me you were my friend. That I'd be safe." "Yes," confirmed Lioree. "Well, nice thought," snorted Jack. "But not very likely." "Why not?" Lioree was truly curious, and in keeping with her promise, couldn't dip into Garvic's mind again to find out. "I woke up on Voyager," he returned as if it explained everything. "And, you're not my friend. Not really. And you wouldn't want to be, not if you knew me." "You're not safe on Voyager?" questioned Lioree, confused by this idea. "Physically? Physically, I'm in no danger. No one's going to touch me. Janeway and Chakotay don't run things like that. There are captains who will turn a blind eye to that sort of thing, but she's decent," answered Garvic with as much of a shrug as he could manage lying down. "But, mentally, living on Voyager is hell. I'd be better off if I'd been left to die." "You feel guilty," she surmised. "Guilty about what you did to Lieutenant Paris. Guilty about the shuttle accident you caused. And it's hard to live on Voyager with everyone knowing what you did." "You must have spent a lot of time in my head," chuckled Garvic humorlessly. "Anything else?" "You are ashamed because what you did was . . ." she trailed off, unable to articulate her thought. His thought. "Reprehensible. It turned out to be even worse than Paris," concluded Garvic in self-disgust. "We both caused accidents and we both lied about them, but he at least had the integrity to admit the truth. I didn't. I was willing to let him take the fall. I thought he deserved it. Now everyone on Voyager knows what I did. You can't know what it's like to live like that," he finished sadly. "But I do," contradicted Lioree sadly. "I allowed someone close to me to use me. Good people died there as well." "How do you do it? How do you live with yourself?" asked Garvic, his voice strained with emotion. It was a plea for guidance. "It is hard," she admitted. "I guess you just pick up and start over. I immersed myself in my research, worked to earn the respect of the colleagues left to me." "I don't think I can do that," mumbled Garvic. "No one on Voyager is ever going to trust me again. I certainly don't expect them to." "But you've changed," argued Lioree. "You understand what you did and why it was wrong. Why, you helped me when --" "You said you needed my help," explained Garvic. "You'd helped me, told me you were my friend, so I helped. But none of them will ever believe it. They'll never trust me," he reiterated. "Maybe you need to start over somewhere else. A new place, with new friends," suggested Lioree. "Yeah?" asked Jack, unconvinced. "Where would that be?" *Start with me. Let me be your friend. Be my friend.* The naked thoughts, all emotions and feelings, flashed in Jack's mind, surprising him. This time, however, it didn't feel like an invasion. Rather, it was nice . . . comforting. *Yes,* he thought tentatively, wondering if she could perceive his attempts at communication. *I want to be friends.* *It is harder this way for you,* she returned. *But I will teach you, if you allow me to.* *Yes,* he agreed after a moment'
s hesitation. *Please teach me.* * * * * * As Samantha Wildman left the back room where Dr. Hacent and Ensign Garvic were chatting, she checked her chronometer. She really needed to get down to her quarters. Ashmore was not going to be happy that Samantha was late getting back to Naomi. Again. With so many of the crew affected by the Enkema-3 virus, including Neelix, getting a baby-sitter for her daughter had been much more difficult than usual. She needed to give her report about the two patients to the doctor quickly. She knew he'd be relieved to know that both were finally awake. As she entered the main treatment area she could see the EMH standing near the captain's biobed, engrossed in a discussion with Commander Chakotay. What they were discussing must be important, but so was being Naomi's mom. Her daughter needed her. "Doctor, I stabilized Ensign Garvic's neck the way you told me to, and -- " Looking up from the tricorder he was reading, the doctor acknowledged Sam's approach. "Very good, Ensign Wildman. Could you please summon Mr. Paris to take your place? I know it's time for your shift to be over. The commander and I have a lot to talk about now, however, so if you'll just leave your report on my desk, I'll check everything over when we're finished." *Well. Nothing like getting the brush-off. This time, though, I WANT the brush-off so I can get home to Naomi,* thought Sam. Aloud, she said, "Very well, Doctor. It will be here when you get a chance. Both of them are very much improved, and they -- " Sam stopped when she saw the commander's gaze at the captain's face. Suddenly, Sam Wildman wanted to get to her daughter and give her a big hug. A very big one, just because Naomi had been a very healthy little girl who had never given her cause to look at her the way the commander was looking at Captain Janeway except once, except in the beginning, when she'd actually lost Naomi. She'd been lucky enough to get her back -- or at least, the alternate universe's Naomi, but just the reminder of it was enough. Lioree Hacent and Jack Garvic were safe and doing fine. There was no reason to continue bothering the doctor and the commander about them now, when there were more important things on everyone's mind. "I'll leave it on your desk, Doctor. If you need me for anything, call me. If I have to come back, I may need to bring Naomi, though." Chakotay looked up at Sam. "We may need you to take over again, Ensign. Both the doctor and Tom Paris will be giving testimony. Be prepared to return if necessary, with Naomi, if you must." "Thank you, Commander, Doctor." Ensign Wildman took her leave, pausing only long enough to drop the padd on the desk in the doctor's office. Her time off was always too short as it was. Time for Naomi to take up all of her attention. * * * * * ". . . So, I've decided that the other senior officers for the hearing will be Carey and Rollins. It seems as if everyone else on board Voyager is either a suspect, a witness, or both." "That's because everyone else is, Commander. Except me, of course." Chakotay smiled. "Of course. With Lieutenant Rollins being on duty on the bridge for all but one of the attacks and with Mr. Carey in a coma for most of them, though, I think I'm pretty safe in not considering either of them to be suspects or witnesses either." "I will admit, Commander, both of them are as above suspicion as anyone can be on this ship. Your own presence as acting captain is a bit irregular, don't you think?" "It is, since I have to give testimony myself. However, we don't have a lot of staff to draw from. There isn't much in the way of precedent for this sort of thing. We'll just have to make do. Besides, this is going to be a fact-finding hearing rather than an actual court-martial. We'll see if we can identify the culprit and make sure that he isn't in a position to create any more trouble. The captain can deal with the situation when she's able to." As he said this, Chakotay looked down again at the captain. She was unconscious but not comatose, recovering from her fractured skull. For the moment, she was blissfully unaware of anything or anyone on Voyager. "I'll be ready to give my testimony about the varying effects of the virus on the various crewmembers whenever you need me, as long as Mr. Paris or Ensign Wildman can be here to keep an eye on our patients." "Agreed. I won't be calling you for a while, though. First, I have to get some more security personnel cleared and back on duty to help Seven and D'haneau." He really had to be going, but Chakotay lingered for a few seconds more by the captain's side. The EMH pursed his lips, then said softly, "Don't worry, Commander. Captain Janeway is going to be fine." Nodding silently to the doctor, Chakotay gently patted Janeway on the shoulder before leaving Sickbay. He had a hearing to run. * * * * * After taking one more quick glance around the table, Chakotay cleared his throat and opened a com line. "This is Commander Chakotay, to all on board Voyager. I am opening an informal inquiry into the events of the past week, examining the attempts upon the lives of Captain Kathryn Janeway, Ensign Jack Garvic, and possibly several others, in the guise of a reaction to the effects of the Enkema-3 subvirus. "Because of the pervasive nature of the effects of the virus on the crew, not to mention our unique situation, isolated from the rest of the Federation, we will be dispensing with many of the formal aspects usually associated with such a hearing. The proceedings will be recorded so that the captain, when she is again conscious, can review the findings of this proceeding and act accordingly. Everyone will be asked to declare that they will be telling the truth and nothing but the truth when they begin giving testimony. This is not, I repeat, is NOT, a formal court-martial. Fortunately, although there have been multiple attacks, no one has as yet lost his or her life as a result of any actions by the perpetrator or perpetrators unknown. Hopefully, we will be able to discover who is responsible and prevent any actual loss of life. "Because so many of you have testimony to give, I am announcing that these proceedings have commenced. The actual testimony will NOT be broadcast over the ship's communication system, however, to prevent any possible contamination of the evidence. If assigned duties permit and there is space in the conference room, any witness who has completed giving evidence may remain to observe. Lieutenants Joseph Carey and James Rollins will be serving on the hearing board and also will be questioning those who give evidence today. Anyone who has any questions concerning these proceedings is directed to compose a message to my attention." The handful of people currently in the room nodded their acceptance of the commander's opening statement. Chakotay doubted there would be any questions. The hearing protocols had been sent to the entire crew several hours ago so that any questions could be dealt with prior to the opening of the hearing. When Carey and Rollins both indicated they were ready to begin, the first officer opened the ship's channel again. "Ensign Mikel Hudson, please come to the conference room to give evidence." * * * * * Hudson succinctly gave his testimony about finding Garvic in the corridor with a broken neck and apparently dead. After providing additional information concerning the discovery of the *peing-lak,* as well as his eyewitness account of the attacks on the captain in Sandrine's and in Sickbay, Ensign Simms was called. He repeated the testimony of his partner in words that were so close to those that Hudson used that the first officer was momentarily caught off balance. *They've been partners a very long time,* Chakotay silently observed to himself. *Could the two have been acting in concert and planned their testimony? Since both are in security, both are still suspects -- no, that's almost impossible. I've got plenty of statements from others that corroborate what they're saying. Besides, I need to get at least two of the assigned security officers back on duty. These two are clearly the best choices.* After Simms finished testifying, the first officer asked both to sit together at the table and account for their whereabouts during the various attacks that had occurred on board. The fact that neither could be responsible for them quickly became obvious, greatly leaving Chakotay's mind. "Thank you, gentleman. I think I can speak for the others at this table that your testimony today exonerates you from involvement in these acts. We've received depositions from others prior to this hearing that verifies your statements and your whereabouts during the incidents in question." Chakotay did not even need to look to either side of him, although he did, to verify Carey and Rollins were nodding in agreement with his statement. "Mr. Hudson, we'd like you to act in the capacity of acting security chief until this hearing has e
nded. Will you be able to do that?" Unspoken was the need for Hudson to be objective, since his special friend Marco Cavelle was in custody. Hudson knew what was being asked of him. "You can count on me, Commander." "Thank you, Ensign Hudson. Please report to Mr. Kim on the bridge and assume the tactical and security station." "Ensign Simms, we'd like you to remain here to answer any questions that might arise concerning the investigation. We also need you to provide security services for the duration of the hearing." "Yes, sir," Simms replied. Chakotay allowed a brief smile to escape his lips when Simms and Hudson both gave an audible sigh of relief and a subtle but obvious, "thumbs up" signal to the other as they stood up to assume their duties. *Two suspects down, a few dozen to go!* Chakotay thought wearily, as he called Lieutenant Paris to testify. * * * * * B'Elanna Torres was not in a good mood. There was something she was supposed to do and she couldn't remember what it was. It had to do with the investigation, she knew that. Something that she needed to finish up in order to complete her testimony. But what that something was that she needed to do was tip-toeing tantalizingly out of her consciousness. And since Tom was now giving his testimony, she couldn't ask him if he knew what it was. Every order was being barked out to her staff as she growled in frustration. "Here's the data from the warp nacelle efficiency tests, Lieutenant Torres," Susan Nicoletti said hesitantly. Accepting the padd and quickly perusing its contents, B'Elanna mumbled a bit under her breath. "These figures look fine, Sue. Give everyone a 'well done' from me, okay?" "Of course. Oh, Lieutenant, I almost forgot. Neelix contacted me a few moments ago. He's still in the mess hall with the others being treated for the virus. He wants to make lunch, but the replicators in the mess hall are down again. I was going to go -- " "Replicator records! That's it! We were going to check the replicator records! Thank you, thank you, Susan!" The chief engineer fairly danced to her console to begin checking the records that she and Tom had never had a chance to fully track down. Susan Nicoletti asked hesitantly, "Should I go and work on the mess hall replicator?" "No, Susan. Send someone to work on that. I'll need you here. With Carey at the hearing and me going to testify any time now, I need you to take over so that I can finish looking up the records I need to check. Oh, and Susan?" "Yes?" "Whoever you do send up, make sure that Neelix doesn't have any access to leola root today. On top of everything that's been going on here, I don't think we need that for lunch." "No problem!" Nicoletti laughed. Maybe she'd suggest Pleeka Rind Casserole to the Talaxian instead; at least that was edible. The thought crossed her mind that leola root for lunch constituted cruel and unusual punishment. Well, cruel, anyway. It wasn't exactly unusual. * * * * * ". . . Ensign Vorik identified the object as a *peing-lak,* a kind of tool used for cleaning the husks of a poisonous fruit. He also told us that it had a ceremonial purpose. It has been used on Vulcan in ritual cleansing ceremonies and as a symbol of the administration of justice." "Thank you, Lieutenant. Are there any more questions for Mr. Paris?" Tom's testimony had been extremely detailed, covering a wide range of the facts in the case. Besides explaining the circumstances of the Trojan Horse program afflicting the computer, Tom had described finding the threat to B'Elanna on the wall of her quarters, the significance of the *peing-lak,* and some medical testimony. The first officer intended to have the doctor elaborate upon the medical aspects in greater detail later. Perhaps the most significant contribution Tom had made, however, had been his detailed observations of the erratic behavior of three crewmembers. The gaps in Vorik's and Ayala's memories, as well as the fact that Tuvok had been missing at critical times, was now established. The investigation was finally coming into focus. Although initially it had appeared that the culprit might be anyone on the security or command staffs, at this point it seemed there weren't many viable suspects. The most likely: Ensign Vorik, Lieutenant Ayala, and, as impossible as it was to believe, Lieutenant Commander Tuvok. *** "It is logical to assume that Lieutenant Commander Tuvok or myself would be the most likely to choose the *peing-lak* as a weapon in this instance, Commander. Assuming Lieutenant Paris' testimony about Dr. Hacent's perceptions about the person are correct, there would appear to be an element of a ritual cleansing of Voyager from harm by removing the captain from command." "Are you saying that the captain is detrimental to the safety of the crew, Mr. Vorik?" asked Rollins tersely. "I am saying nothing of the sort, Lieutenant Rollins. I am merely pointing out that the person whose thoughts were perceived by Dr. Hacent may have had that perception. I cannot recall ever having such thoughts myself. Unfortunately, there are gaps in my memory. Periods of time have elapsed in which I have been alleged by others to have said or done things which I cannot now recall. I do not doubt the testimony of the others. My memory clearly has failed me at several critical junctures during the past few days." "Commander Chakotay, Lieutenant Carey. I'd like to point out one area in which Ensign Vorik does not appear to have the appropriate credentials to be at fault," remarked Lieutenant Rollins. "The Trojan Horse programs were inserted by someone at command level or with the proper security ID codes. Ensign Vorik, as an engineer, does not have the necessary security clearance to have entered this program into the computer. Assuming we are correct in presuming that one person is at fault for all the incidents -- that this is not a conspiracy -- then Ensign Vorik cannot be the person we're looking for." Rollins leaned back in his chair. From his satisfied smile, he was proud of his insight. "Regrettably, Lieutenant, that is not the case. If you will consult my records you will see that because of my computer programming skills, Lieutenant Torres has assigned me to primary maintenance of the security system. While my usual security clearance would not permit me entry at that level, I have the ability to override almost any clearance level while I am maintaining the system. I was in a position to do so on several occasions over the past two weeks. My culpability cannot be excluded because I am not of command rank nor on the regular security staff roster. Lieutenant Carey can verify this." Carey shifted forward in his seat, resting his clasped hands before him on the table. "Vorik, you don't have to give this kind of testimony, you know. You can't be forced to incriminate yourself." "I am not incriminating myself by stating the facts, Lieutenant Carey. In truth, I have no memories at all of putting this ship or any being on it in jeopardy. I appear to have suffered periods during which I was in a sort of disassociative personality state, due to the Enkema-3 virus. Whether I can be held accountable for any actions I may have taken during those times when I was 'not myself' is questionable. For the sake of the crew, however, the person or persons responsible must be identified so that those on board this ship are not endangered any further. If my testimony may permit the apprehension of the party responsible, then it must be shared with you. Even if that party is me." "An excellent point, Ensign, and something that all of us need to keep in mind. The person -- and I do not use the singular lightly here, as I sincerely believe that only one person is responsible -- may be just as unaware of his or her actions as Ensign Vorik," commented Chakotay. "Do you have anything to add to your testimony?" "Only that I wish to reiterate that I have no recollections of harming, planning to harm, or of taking any action that by omission or commission would result in harm to anyone on board Voyager." "Thank you, Ensign, for your candid statements. You have the choice of returning to the brig or remaining here." "Commander, I would like to remain here. Perhaps I can be of assistance in evaluating the testimony of succeeding witnesses." Nodding assent to the young Vulcan, the first officer permitted him to move to a seat in front of Ensign Simms. D'haneau, who had accompanied Vorik from the brig to the hearing, was allowed to return to the brig. Vorik had been affirmed as being free of the Enkema-3 virus by the doctor. He didn't seem to be a danger at the moment. And, if the Vulcan had been so willing to dispassionately identify himself as a probable perpetrator when Mr. Rollins had been prepared to exonerate him, any further insights Mr. Vorik might have concerning the testimony of other witnesses would undoubtedly be just as objective. * * * * * "Doctor, we're ready for your testimony now. Will you ch
eck on Ensign Garvic, however, and see if he's awake? We'd like to interview him if we can to see if he can recall who attacked him." "Certainly, Commander. Lieutenant Paris, you have Sickbay." Tom nodded his head as the doctor broke off the com channel and left Sickbay for the conference room. Ducking his head in the back room on the way, the doctor could see Dr. Hacent and Ensign Garvic lying prone on the biobeds, their eyes closed. They were still slumbering. It really was too bad that he had been so busy with Captain Janeway when they had been awake that he hadn't received Ensign Wildman's message until they had fallen asleep again. It was not in either of their best interests medically to awaken them now. Their bodies obviously craved rest. With a quick flick of his holographic eyes to the instrumentation above their beds which confirmed the presence of brain wave activity consistent with sleep, the doctor left his patients to their rest. About five minutes after the doctor left them, the brain waves of the two figures on the biobeds began to look considerably less like sleep patterns. As her golden eyes opened, Lioree murmured encouragingly, "Jack, you know, you are extremely receptive to my thoughts. I believe you have a latent ability to telepathic communication that can be developed, if you wish." "If I have a good teacher, you mean?" he answered with a grin. The image that arose in his mind was of Lioree's lovely face, smiling at him. The image that formed in hers was that of a frozen man, thawing. Lioree turned towards Jack's form. She had admonished him, in thought, not to move his head so as not to injure his neck any further. When she looked at him, however, she saw the grin on his face was even broader than the one he had sent to her mind. * * * * * "Briefly, Commander, Lieutenants, different blood chemistries create different symptomology. Those of a given race appear to react to the Enkema-3 strain similarly. Blood factors common to Talaxians apparently cause giddiness. Humans tend to exhibit coma, as is the case with the Garn. In Bajorans, we see anger and violence. I note that Lieutenant Ayala has a Bajoran grandmother, and Gerron is of course, Bajoran. The Vulcans have exhibited uncharacteristic episodes of belligerence. I note that Mr. Cavelle's mother was not aware of her ancestry, as she was an orphan found in the destroyed Cygasan colony in the Saldez sector as a child. From my blood test results, however, Mr. Cavelle has traces of a copper based blood chemistry. She may have been part Vulcan. "What is consistent amongst all the races has been recurrent problems accessing memories of what had passed during an episode of uncharacteristic behavior. The body chemistry changes prevent the fixing of the memory engrams. In a sense, the normal personality is not present during an episode. What we seem to have here is a form of multiple personality disorder. What every individual seems to have in common is that these multiple personalities dissociate from one another. Two consciousnesses coexist, as it were, but not easily, within the same body. And the main personality, at least, has no knowledge of the other or others that may be present." "Thank you, Doctor. Are there any questions?" Chakotay devoutly hoped there were not. He needed to review the recording of the doctor's explanation to see if he could fully understand what the EMH had said. He thought he knew, but he wasn't sure. A quick glance at Carey and Rollins confirmed what Chakotay suspected. They didn't seem to understand what the EMH had just said much better than the first officer did. "All right, Doctor. Now, we need your description of the incident in Sickbay, when the captain sustained her injury." The doctor quickly described the confusing scene, during which Tuvok, Gerron, and Ayala were all acting strangely. From time to time Vorik nodded sagely, agreeing with the EMH's testimony. "When Ensign Garvic broke into Sickbay, he was delirious. Even if he were coherent, from the way he gestured, he could have been identifying anyone in Sickbay, including Mr. Simms and Mr. Hudson." "Has Ensign Garvic regained consciousness yet, Doctor?" inquired Lieutenant Carey. "Unfortunately, no, Lieutenant. He was awake briefly when I could not attend him. When he awakens, I will inform the court." "This isn't a court-martial, Doctor. Just a fact-finding hearing," Chakotay repeated. "Whatever you say, Commander," replied the doctor, with a smug smile. "Thank you, Doctor," sighed the first officer. "Commander Chakotay to Lieutenant Torres. Please come to the conference room to give evidence." * * * * * Much of the evidence B'Elanna presented had to contribute had been heard before, especially during Tom's testimony. Thanks to her researching the replicator records, however, she managed to make quite a stir anyway. "Lieutenant, are you saying that all of the *peing-laks* found were replicated from Lieutenant Ayala's account?" "Yes, Commander. They were all made several hours prior to the first attack," B'Elanna testified reluctantly. She had known Michael Ayala for a long time, from their service together in the Maquis. When she'd found out whose replicator rations the *peing-laks* had come from, she had thrown a padd across Engineering, almost hitting Sue Nicoletti in the arm. "Although he always used his own account, the lieutenant created them at various locations throughout the ship." Chakotay could not contain his sigh. If B'Elanna's findings were accurate, then Ayala was not only the culprit, but he had premeditated the attack on Garvic. Carey and Rollins both shook their heads in dismay. Only one person did not look upset. Since he was a Vulcan, however, that wasn't particularly surprising. "Lieutenant Torres, would you permit me to review your findings?" "Of course, Vorik." B'Elanna handed the padd over to her subordinate. Vorik's fingers danced over the padd, accessing the available data before requesting, "Commander, may I go to the console here in the conference room? I need to look up a few more entries." With a nod to Vorik, Chakotay gave permission. B'Elanna was not amused at having her findings called into question. Her tapping fingers beat a quicker tattoo on the table as Vorik called up several screens of data. Finally, with a soft, "Yes," the Vulcan pointed to a line of data. It was a record of Lieutenant Michael Ayala's replicator ration amounts for the past month. "Lieutenant Torres, I was not calling your findings into question, but I was curious about something. It seemed most illogical that Lieutenant Ayala would not make any attempt to hide the fact that he was manufacturing *peing- laks* if he had had any advance intention to use them to cause harm to another on board Voyager. From the actions that this 'disassociative personality,' as the doctor has described him, had previously taken, it would appear that such an oversight would not be made." "Well, Vorik, obviously he didn't plan it all out in advance. He was sick!" "Perhaps. But notice here that the total amount of Lieutenant Ayala's replicator rations did not change as a result of the manufacture of these implements. He did not use any of his rations. So while he may have had a way of channeling rations from another account that is not readily traceable, there is another possibility. Someone wishing to make it appear that Ayala replicated the *peing-laks* utilized the account and replenished the rations immediately, not wishing to alert Lieutenant Ayala to the loss of his rations." After a moment's hesitation, B'Elanna agreed. "That is a possibility," she said. Getting up from her seat, she went to the computer console and checked Vorik's findings. "Commander, Vorik is right. It seems that security's main replicator account was tapped to replenish Ayala's replicator ration account. Normally this would require Commander Tuvok's authorization. I'll have to go back and check further, Commander. Since Tuvok was undergoing memory losses from the Enkema-3 virus himself, he could have authorized these transfers without being fully aware of it." "Unless I circumvented the security protocols during an episode of my own, Lieutenant Torres," added Vorik quietly. "Ensign, are you trying to say that you're to blame again?" asked Lieutenant Rollins. "Not at all. I do not recall taking such an action, but it is a possibility that we must eliminate if my innocence is to be established without any question of -- " "Wait a minute," interrupted Carey. "Maybe we're going about this the wrong way with you, Vorik. Yes, it's possible you could have done this. But did you have the opportunity?" "What do you mean, Joe?" asked B'Elanna of her second-in-command in Engineering. "I just thought of something. These *peing-laks* were all manufactured within how many hours of the attack on Garvic?" "Within three hours," responded B'Elanna. "Vorik, you couldn't have manufactured them from different locations on the shi
p. We know that you'd just gotten off duty in Engineering a few minutes before Garvic was attacked, but before that, you were with Seven and me in the Jeffries tubes around Engineering, working on the bad EPS conduits that had been causing us problems that day. Remember? None of us was out of visual contact for at least four hours that shift. When we took our break, Ashmore brought us refreshments from the replicator and we consumed them in the tubes so we wouldn't waste much time. I didn't release you from duty until we crawled out of the tubes together. We know that there wasn't any transporter activity. Seven was alone when she found Garvic. The same person who manufactured the *peing-laks* is almost certainly Garvic's attacker. You aren't him, Vorik." Vorik raised his eyebrow. "I believe that your logic is impeccable, Lieutenant Carey. I must be innocent." Everyone in the conference room, with the exception of Ensign Vorik, broke into laughter at the young engineer's casual-sounding remark. Carey's smile of relief was matched by B'Elanna's. Neither wanted the Vulcan to have been guilty of attempted murder. "All right, everyone," said Chakotay, "let's get back to the matter at hand. I'm sure we're all relieved that we have one less suspect. Can we use this sort of logic to eliminate either of our other primary suspects?" Consulting the replicator records B'Elanna had to admit, "Perhaps, Commander. Tuvok was in his quarters according to those security records we've been able to salvage. But there's no record of where Ayala was." "Well then, I guess it's time we called Mr. Ayala to testify." * * * * * B'Elanna had to feel sorry for Ayala. He was obviously a very unhappy man, unable to refute the accusations against him. He was forced to give the same answer to virtually every question: "I can't recall, Commander." Because of his memory blackouts, Ayala couldn't recall where he was when Garvic was attacked. He admitted that while he was not Vulcan, he had done research when in the Maquis about what kinds of innocent objects could be used as weapons but be shipped underneath the noses of the Cardassians. "Yes, Lieutenant Rollins. I became aware of the symbolic and real uses of the *peing-lak* when I was in the Maquis. The *peing-lak* is an excellent weapon for hand-to-hand fighting, and it has another use as well. The metals used to make a traditional *peing-lak* are used in manufacturing the wiring for more sophisticated weapons. I can't say what the Cardassians thought about all the *peing-laks* we imported. We imported a lot of them, though." "Lieutenant Ayala, in your position as a security officer, would you suspect someone of an attack like that on Mr. Garvic, given the pattern of evidence we've seen?" continued Rollins. Ayala bit his lip before answering, "Yes. But I categorically deny diverting security replicator rations to my own account." "Lieutenant, do you know how your replicator account could have been tapped to make the *peing-laks* without your knowledge?" "No, Lieutenant Carey, I don't," he admitted reluctantly. The dates and times of the various incidents were read off. Ayala couldn't account for his exact whereabouts during any of them. As it happened, he was off-duty for every single one of them, although he apparently was called back to duty after most of them in order to help with the investigations. When Chakotay asked him, finally, if he had anything else to say, Ayala gave a deep sigh. "All I can say is that I would never willingly harm anyone on this ship, especially Captain Janeway. I've come to admire and respect her. I can't imagine being able to serve under any Starfleet captain except her. But I can't rule out the fact that if the doctor is right about this 'disassociative personality disorder,' it could have been me responsible for all of this. I hate to believe that, Commander. But you're right; I can't be sure." Even D'haneau looked subdued as he accompanied Ayala back to the brig. * * * * * The mood in the conference room was sober after Ayala was removed. B'Elanna surreptitiously stretched her back. Sitting in one place wasn't something that Klingons were very good at. She would have liked to visit Sickbay and talk Tom into giving her a nice massage. Unfortunately, he was still on duty in Sickbay until 1600 hours. She looked over at Chakotay, wondering whom he would call next. The only one she expected to have him call was Tuvok. Who else was left, except for Garvic? And he could only testify if he woke up. Chakotay stood up. "I think we all need to take a break. Before calling Commander Tuvok, I want to check on a few facts in my office. Take twenty minutes, everyone." With a relieved sigh, B'Elanna stood up and stretched openly. She would go see Tom for a few minutes, but first, she should really check the engineering station on the bridge. Besides, Harry would be dying for the news. Too bad for Ayala that the news was as bad as it appeared for him. * * * * * "Ensign Kim, how are you enjoying your turn in the command chair?" asked B'Elanna as she stalked onto the bridge. "All quiet, Lieutenant Torres. How about . . . well, how about everything else?" He tried to smile before flicking his head to encourage her to come closer. B'Elanna came up to Harry and whispered, "It looks bad for Ayala. He's the only one who can't account for where he was when Garvic was attacked. There's lots of evidence from the replicator rations usage, too. You know, about the *peing- laks*? Seems Ayala was the one who made them in the hours just before the attack. We're sure that the same person is responsible for all the attacks. Ayala can't document his location for any of them, really, except for the one in Sickbay. And he was there!" "I can't believe it, though, B'Elanna. Ayala? It just doesn't seem possible." "Is it possible for it to have been Vorik or Tuvok, either? Vorik's been cleared. Tuvok hasn't, but he probably will be when we get back to the hearing. Except for attacking the captain in Sickbay. He did that, but he was really out of it, Simms said. Harry, let me get down to my engineering station here on the bridge so I can check out my engines. I'd like to get down to Sickbay and tell Tom what's up before going back to the hearing. Might as well sit through to the end now." "Sure, B'Elanna," Harry agreed. The two friends had been speaking in very low voices. The ensign at the ops station didn't hear everything, but Amanda Lang had overheard enough. After B'Elanna had given the bridge engineering station a quick check and had left for a quick visit to Sickbay, the officer at the conn was signaled by the officer at Ops. "Ensign Kim?" Lang said. "May I be relieved of my post? I'm not sure, but I think I have information for Commander Chakotay's inquiry." "Of course, Ensign. Seven of Nine, please come to the bridge. I need you to cover Ops for a while." Harry's smile may have been a bit warmer than usual. Ensign Lang wanted to smile, but she couldn't, not then. If Lieutenant Torres had told Harry what she though she'd heard, then Lang, the Delaneys, Dalby, and Hamilton all had some testimony to give. * * * * * "Ensign Amanda Lang, you have some testimony to offer us?" "Yes, Commander." The short, brown haired ensign took a seat at the conference table and quickly recited the oath that her testimony was to be the truth. "You may proceed, Ensign." "Commander Chakotay, Lieutenants Carey and Rollins, I should have come forward before, I guess, but I didn't realize that Lieutenant Ayala had become such a prime suspect in what's been happening aboard ship." "We didn't want to affect the evidence that anyone was going to give, Ensign, by letting out too many details ahead of time. You say you heard that Mr. Ayala is the prime suspect?" Not daring to look in the chief engineer's direction, Lang admitted, "I overheard something that would lead me to believe that, Commander." "So you don't think Lieutenant Ayala could be the one who's been the attacker, Ensign?" "Not if the same person has been responsible for everything that's happened, no, sir." A ghost of a smile crossed Chakotay's face. The firmness was back in Lang's voice, and he recalled the brave young woman who stood the bridge with him when the Nyrians had overcome the crew and briefly stolen Voyager from them. Amanda Lang had had to be phasered by the aliens before giving up the bridge. "Can you establish that Lieutenant Ayala was elsewhere during one of the attacks?" "Yes, sir. When Ensign Garvic was attacked, he was in his quarters, with me . . . and with several others, too." The ensign suddenly started to ramble as she realized what her statement had implied. "I don't want to give the wrong impression, Commander. I mean, there isn't any kind of personal relationship between us. We're just friends, Commander." "I know that, Ensign. You're part of the regular group that plays poker at Ayala's, right?" "Yes, sir." "Is that what you were doing when Ensign
Garvic was attacked? Because I thought that your poker night was a different night than the one when Garvic was attacked." "Uh, it is, sir. But we were all in his quarters that night. We'd all gone to Sandrine's. Mike -- I mean, Lieutenant Ayala -- was in kind of a strange mood, and he invited us back to his quarters even though it was really late. Jenny and Megan Delaney, Hamilton, and me. Oh, and Dalby, too, I almost forgot. We'd been prepared to call it a night, but Ayala suggested we go back to his rooms and play a little poker. So we did." "Are you sure it was the same night, Ensign?" It was almost 0300 hours when Garvic was found by Seven." "I'm sure, sir. It was kind of a . . . memorable poker game." Chakotay looked at the very discomfited ensign. She was looking almost everywhere except at anyone's face. Finally, after giving a little sigh, Lang met Chakotay's gaze head on. "It's sort of hard to forget. We were playing strip poker, sir." Almost everyone laughed. Chakotay controlled himself. Lang wasn't laughing. "Commander, I never did anything like that before! Everyone was a little giddy from Sandrine's, so when Ayala suggested it, we all went along. We really hadn't gotten too far, though, before Commander Tuvok's call. Everyone else just left, but it wasn't too far out of my way, so I went with Ayala to where Tuvok was waiting. By where Garvic was attacked. Ayala was never out of my sight, Commander. I can state unequivocally that Ayala could NOT have attacked Garvic. I'm sure that the others will verify this." B'Elanna leaned against the table and pointed to the *peing-lak* on the table before Carey. "Ensign, do you recall seeing one of these around Lieutenant Ayala's quarters? Did you see him make any from a replicator?" "No, Lieutenant. And he couldn't exactly hide much from me when he was getting dressed, if you know what I mean. He's the one who was losing the poker game." "How long were you with him before the -- uh -- poker game?" asked Rollins. "Gosh, we must have been in Sandrine's for about four hours. And then over an hour in Ayala's quarters. We had some synthehol there, too." "Did Mr. Ayala leave your sight at all while you were in Sandrine's or in his quarters?" "In his quarters, no. He had to use the facilities when we were in Sandrine's a couple of times, but each time, I'm pretty sure that either Hamilton or Dalby needed to use them too, and went there with him." "If that's all, Ensign Lang, you are dismissed." Lang nodded her head and stood up to leave as Commander Chakotay contacted Jenny Delaney to come to the conference room and testify about a certain poker game in the quarters of Lieutenant Michael Ayala. As they waited for Jenny Delaney, B'Elanna caught Carey's face. She suspected he was realizing the implications too. Perhaps they were wrong. Maybe there WAS a conspiracy, and they needed to start over, because if Ayala's location truly was accounted for and only one person was involved, there was only one person who might be a suspect. That person also had an alibi in the sensor records. And besides, that one person just couldn't be the one -- could he? "Does anyone have any more questions for Crewman Dalby?" asked Chakotay. He paused only for a brief moment before adding, "That will be all, Dalby. Thank you for your testimony." After Jenny Delaney and Hamilton had verified Lang's account, there didn't seem much point in dragging out the interview with Dalby. They all told the same story about the strip poker game. "Well, Mr. Carey, Mr. Rollins, now that we've heard from Lang, Dalby, Hamilton, and the Delaney sisters, does anyone have any comments to make about this investigation?" Carey cleared his throat. "Commander, sensor records say that Commander Tuvok was in his quarters during the initial attack on Ensign Garvic. If that's true, we've obviously missed a possible perpetrator or there really is a conspiracy of more than one individual after all." "Agreed," said Chakotay. "Sir, if I may?" asked Ensign Vorik. "Yes, Ensign?" "May I point out that Commander Tuvok attacked Janeway in Sickbay, causing her grave injury. While the probability of Commander Tuvok desiring any harm coming to the captain would be extremely low under normal circumstances, the conditions on board Voyager are clearly not normal. Given the commander's actions, Commander Tuvok may very well have been the one Dr. Lioree Hacent sensed wishing to kill Captain Janeway, impossible as this would appear to be." Carey spoke up again. "I would feel much better about making accusations like that about Commander Tuvok if we'd had a chance to speak with Ensign Garvic to see if he can recall anything about his attacker. Or with Dr. Hacent. Should we send for them?" "Yes, Lieutenant, I think we need them both, if possible." A hurried contact with Sickbay left something to be desired, however. "I would prefer that both Dr. Hacent and Ensign Garvic remain here," said the doctor. "They need their sleep. I checked them only minutes ago, Commander. I recommend we allow them to awaken naturally." At the doctor's recalcitrance, Chakotay did not exhibit quite as much patience as was usual. "Ensign Simms, please go down to check on the patients. Make sure that Garvic is still asleep." * * * * * Simms' trip down to Sickbay was quick. Getting in to see the patients was not so quick. "Mr. Simms! Please!" shouted the EMH. "They both need their rest because of their injuries!" Simms, however, was not to be deterred, causing the doctor to fuss considerably as they walked into the room where Dr. Hacent and Ensign Garvic were lying. "See?" hissed the doctor, in a sotto voce whisper. "I told you. They're both asleep." The doctor was about to drag Simms out of the private room when a musical voice said, "Doctor? I'm sorry. Do you want us?" Simms turned to find Dr. Hacent's golden eyes upon him. "Oh. We thought you were asleep," Simms said, peering at them warily. "Oh, we've been up for a long time. We've been practicing telepathic communication with each other." There was an awkward pause before Garvic stiffly addressed the security man. "Ensign Simms, is something the matter?" "We need your assistance," offered Ethan Simms as an answer. "Commander Chakotay is hoping one or both of you could shed some light on our investigation. We've had some . . . problems identifying the culprit. I'm here to escort you to the conference room, as long as you feel up to it." "Sure. Anything that wraps this thing up. But I don't understand," said Garvic, shaking his head. "I told everyone that it was -- " At that moment, Tom interrupted. "Doctor, I think Captain Janeway is regaining consciousness." "Thank you, Lieutenant. I'll be right in. Ensign Garvic and Dr. Hacent are awake and are going up to the conference room. Please accompany them so that you can monitor their conditions. Particularly Ensign Garvic's neck stability." The doctor hurried to the captain's biobed to join Samantha Wildman, who was standing ready to assist him, her daughter close by her side. Tom quickly looked at the man who had been his enemy. Garvic stared back at Tom with a sour look on his face, but a brief smile banished the look. Tom didn't know where it came from, because it wasn't until after the smile that Lioree took Garvic's hand and squeezed it. The former lieutenant brought his entire body around to face her carefully, to avoid dislodging his neck brace, before saying, "All right, Paris. Let's go and get this over with." While the words sounded a bit grim, the look on his face was much softer. "After you, Garvic, Dr. Hacent," said Tom. * * * * * "Believe me, Commander, I was NOT delirious when I came into Sickbay. I was accusing Commander Tuvok of attacking me." Garvic paused briefly and coughed to clear his throat. "I'd been wondering what was going on for a few days, actually. Security was replicating some odd things. Medical equipment, for example. And I saw Commander Tuvok doing things at several control panels that I couldn't figure out. I didn't think much of it at the time. The night I was attacked, however, I'd been doing some very dry evaluations of the replicator records. As I'm sure you know, I've been working the night shift for the last few months as a glorified bookkeeper." Garvic stopped his recitation for a moment, as if some kind of thought had come to him. His eyes flicked toward Lioree's. He shrugged very slightly, then continued in a penitent tone. "Well, I guess I deserved to be working the night shift. Anyway, I noticed that security was using a lot of replicator resources to make some kind of metallic objects. I admit this probably wasn't very smart, but when I checked the computer and found out that the commander was awake, I figured I'd ask the head of security point blank what the . . . uh . . . what the heck was going on. Even though it was the middle of the night, Commander Tuvok agreed to see me about it, saying that there must be something wrong. He said h
e didn't know how anyone could have been using his replicator code to make the implements without his knowledge." "Did you say Tuvok's replicator code? Not the main security code?" "No, sir. I'm sure. It was his personal code. Why? Do the records show they were from the main security account?" "Actually, they indicate that Lieutenant Ayala made the implements," commented Rollins. "Well, that night he didn't. And if I had been thinking straight, I would've told somebody where I was going, but I wasn't. I was feeling very agitated for some reason. I intended to go on to Sickbay afterwards, to see if the EMH could check out this welt I'd noticed on me." The people at the table all exchanged glances, but Garvic only looked at Lioree. A sudden look, as if he had just had something explained to him, crossed his face. "Oh, I see. That was a sign of this virus thing, huh? Well, I wish I'd known that then. Anyway, Tuvok had suggested we meet in an empty cabin, to avoid meeting anyone and arousing suspicion. We met up on the way. Then Tuvok started to act irrationally. He was talking about 'not letting Tuvok know about it,' as if he were somebody else other than Tuvok. I got really nervous and hit my combadge to call for help, but it had been neutralized, somehow. Tuvok had something in his hand, and I knew I needed to get away from him. When I turned my back to him to try to get away, I felt the crunch of my neck breaking when he hit me. It was strange, because even though I was unconscious, I didn't feel dead somehow." Lioree touched Garvic's hand and broke in, "That was the effect of the Enkema-3 virus. It froze your systems. In addition to saving your life, it's probably the reason you could still perceive what was going on around you, at least for a while, before you fell into the deepest coma. When Garn and, from what we've found out here, when humans first fall into a coma, it takes them a while to sink all the way into it. You were probably already being affected when you contacted Commander Tuvok about the replicator records. I've heard others say they've done very strange things, just before falling unconscious." Nodding his head slightly before a warning grunt from Tom stopped him, Garvic agreed, "Yes, I think that's what happened. I didn't really go 'under' until after Seven found me. I can remember Simms -- or, no, I think it was Hudson -- one of them, anyway, pronounced me dead. To tell you the truth, I only felt relief. I knew I'd screwed up my life, and now it was all over. Anyway, I guess I retreated into my mind, thinking that this must be what dead feels like, until Lioree -- I mean, Dr. Hacent -- called me out of it. Then Tuvok did something to her, and we were both floundering around awhile unconscious. I'm not sure what I did, actually, but eventually I found a way up. Like climbing a stairway in my mind. I had Lioree's mind in mine, sort of like we were walking up hand in hand. Then we woke up in Sickbay together with Sam Wildman fussing over us." At the end of his story, Garvic gave a deep sigh. Chakotay asked those in the conference room if anyone had any further questions for Ensign Garvic. No one did. There didn't seem much point. Sighing himself, Chakotay called the next witness. "Dr. Hacent, will you please explain what happened to you when you were trying to pull Ensign Garvic out of his coma? Tuvok was with the two of you, I understand?" "Well, I guess you already must know that I wasn't made comatose by Ensign Garvic when I was trying to reach him. Commander Tuvok was touching me with his mindmeld technique. We were sinking into Jack's mind when Tuvok suddenly disappeared. There was another mind, and it telepathically attacked me. It was pushing Jack and me under. A few moments sooner and I think it would have been too late. But Jack was awake enough when the doctor interrupted him that I could be called back. We both had a hard time coming out of the coma, though, even though Jack had a good start. What he said about the stairs? It was a very good explanation, Commander. That is very much what it feels like, coming out of a coma. Like climbing a stairway or swimming up to light." Taking a deep breath, Lioree continued, "Jack woke up before me. I'd thought, from his memories of identifying Tuvok in Sickbay, that Tuvok was already known and had been apprehended, so when we both woke up in the beginning, I didn't realize I needed to let anyone know. And once Ensign Wildman was there with us, I was sure we were just being left to recover on our own. We fell asleep a few times, and whenever we woke up, we practiced subvocal communication. I hadn't even known about this hearing, Commander, or I would have come right away." Lioree looked down contritely, thinking to Garvic, *I wasn't aware of anyone else but you, Jack.* Shaking his head resignedly Chakotay replied, "That's understandable, Doctor. We should have checked your condition more frequently, especially after we learned you'd come out of the coma. Now, unless anyone else has any further questions for Dr. Hacent, I think it's time to call our last witness." Hitting his combadge, the first officer called, "D'haneau, please bring Commander Tuvok to the conference room. And please release Lieutenant Ayala from custody. He is no longer under suspicion of committing a crime." * * * * * Tuvok was brought to the hearing room, guarded by D'haneau and Baxter, who were all followed by the quiet, dark-haired man, one quarter Bajoran in heritage, who had been released from custody upon Chakotay's orders. Something that she needed to finish up in order to complete her testimony. Once Tuvok was seated, flanked by Baxter and Hudson, who had come from the bridge to make sure that the Vulcan security chief was well-guarded, Chakotay laid out the evidence against him. The Vulcan shook his head several times, and his brow crumpled. "Commander, this is not logical. I have not taken any of these actions of which I have been accused. A mistake must have been made." "Commander, there's simply too much evidence against you. Everyone else who could be at fault has been cleared by testimony." "No. I refuse to believe it. This is a conspiracy to get rid of me. You want to replace me. You want to take over the ship. Take over the ship from Janeway. NO! IT IS NOT TRUE!" As Tuvok's voice escalated in volume, Baxter and Hudson moved closer to him, joined by Simms, with D'haneau hovering behind. Suddenly Tuvok's demeanor changed and with a twisted face and a snarl, he screamed, "Tuvok is a fool! He can't have found out about me! I'll get him. I'll get you all!" As he screamed and jumped to his feet, Tuvok used both of his hands to initiate Vulcan neck pinches on Hudson and Baxter, causing them to slump in their chairs. D'haneau threw his long arms around Tuvok, but the Vulcan's strength and quickness prevented him from getting a good grasp on him. Amid warning shouts from those around the table, Tuvok flung himself across the table, stretching his long frame out towards where Lioree and Garvic were sitting. The stretch was Tuvok's undoing. D'haneau was able to wrap his arms securely around the security chief when he extended himself across the table. Simms sank down and grappled with the Vulcan's legs. Only with the hiss of a tranquilizing hypospray administered by Tom did the tumult come to an end. Lioree stood up, holding onto Ensign Garvic and shaking. "Commander Chakotay, there is no doubt now. I am able to state, without hesitation, that the deranged mind that I felt in Sickbay was the same as the one I felt during this incident. The mind 'with murderous intent' definitely was Commander Tuvok's. However, it is not his normal mind, but the disassociative personality's mind, that has been the cause of all that's happened. I'm sure of it." "As am I, Dr. Hacent. Which leaves me in a bit of a quandary. If Tuvok's 'real mind' is not responsible for what happened, what can his punishment be?" "I don't envy you your decision, Commander, but I know that what has happened to your crew has given me a great deal to think about. It even suggests another avenue of research. We have already seen some evidence of a kind of intelligence at work in the virus. With the way the virus attacked your crew, singling out such a critical person as your security chief, I'm beginning to wonder if this virus actually has a greater degree of sentience than we have realized. Perhaps the Enkema-3 subvirus is actually an entity which is trying to tell us something, such as "Leave me alone!" "Perhaps, Doctor. I hope you find out before anyone else can be harmed." While the discussion was going on above him, Tom used his medical tricorder to examine Tuvok. Shaking his head at the readings he was getting, Tom finally interrupted the conversation with concern. "Something's happening to Tuvok. It's almost like he's dying! Vorik, is this that Vulcan healing trance again?" "I'm quite sure it is. I doubt you have to worry,
Lieutenant Paris," the Vulcan engineer dispassionately advised. Vorik briefly explained the trance to the others in the conference room. Tom checked Tuvok's levels again and nodded as he added, "Commander, once Tuvok's levels have gone all the way down to the minimal readings and his neural energy starts to spike wildly, we have to slap him, the way B'Elanna did with Vorik in Sickbay. That will bring him around." "If that's the only way . . . ." "It is. Does anyone want to draw straws for the right to slug him?" "Tom," said Chakotay warningly. Levity was a bit out of place, even though Chakotay would be glad to take a swing at Tuvok himself. "Sorry, sir. Couldn't help it. But seriously, who is going to do the slapping? The readings are getting to the point now where somebody has to do the honors." Glancing around the room, Chakotay considered the candidates. Garvic might have cause, but with his still-fragile neck, it would not be advisable. The captain was still in Sickbay. Tom and B'Elanna each had reason to volunteer, as did Hudson and Marco Cavelle, who was not in the conference room at the moment. Vorik, of course, had come under grave suspicion of having been the one responsible for Tuvok's actions and might be an appropriate choice. There was one other, however, whose reputation had almost been fatally damaged by Tuvok's actions, some of which had quite deliberately implicated him in crimes of which he was completely innocent. "Lieutenant Ayala, will you please bring Commander Tuvok out of his healing trance?" Chakotay requested. Nodding his head, the usually quiet and gentle security officer gestured to Hudson and Simms. The two security officers held up Tuvok. With a grunt that could have been regret or pleasure, Michael Ayala wound up his arm and gave his superior officer a mighty slap. And then another, for good measure. Tuvok groaned before twisting in the arms of his subordinates. The security chief straightened up and stood under his own power, although both arms were both still securely held by Simms and Hudson. Looking around, Tuvok blinked twice and asked, "What is the meaning of this gathering?" "Lieutenant Commander Tuvok, you have been found responsible for committing assault with intent to murder Captain Janeway and Ensign Jack Garvic, as well as numerous other acts dangerous to those on Voyager, while under the influence of the Enkema-3 virus. We realize that in a sense, you have not really 'been yourself' when you did all that you've been accused of doing. I do not know if you will be punished anyway, but until the captain is conscious and able to decide what actions she will take, you are going to be held in custody in the brig." Tuvok stared stoically at the first officer for several seconds before saying, "I accept you decision, Commander. However, I would like to make a request. Will someone please explain to me what it is that I have done to deserve being incarcerated? I do not seem to recall very much of the last few days." "Don't you remember the investigation into the attack on Ensign Garvic? The epidemic of Enkema-3 virus on board the ship? The evacuation of Voyager when the computer core was failing?" the first officer asked. "I do not," answered Tuvok. Chakotay looked questioningly at Tom, who answered, "From the medical readings the doctor and I did, apparently there can be several personalities involved in the human version of this condition. Sometimes the 'true' personality has no knowledge of any of the others. We may have been dealing with only split-off personalities of Tuvok since all of this started, with the real Tuvok completely submerged for all of that time." Lioree broke in, "Commander, I think that what Lieutenant Paris just said may be true. The psychic patterns I'm sensing from the commander now are nothing like those that I have sensed at any time before from him." *This has been a very strange episode all around,* thought Chakotay, as he said, "Ensign Simms, since you were present for almost all of the testimony, will you fill in Commander Tuvok on your way to the brig?" The ensign agreed with a brief nod and filed out after Tuvok, D'haneau, and Ayala. After they left, Chakotay addressed those remaining in the room. "Mr. Carey and Mr. Rollins, I want to thank you for your valuable services during this investigation. I also want to express my thanks to all the witnesses who -- " "Well, what have we here?" interrupted a warm alto voice. Chakotay's face broke into a broad, deeply dimpled smile as a wide-awake and lucid Captain Janeway, accompanied by the doctor, entered the room. "Chakotay, what did I miss?" Chakotay turned to address her. "Well, Captain, it's kind of a long story. You see . . . ." Chakotay's explanation was interrupted by a rather irritated doctor. "Commander, I thought I told you that my patients were not to be aggravated in any way!" The EMH stalked over to where Garvic and Dr. Hacent were seated, pulling out a tricorder. He ran it quickly over both of them, then continued to rant. "Elevated blood pressure, increased pulse . . . they need to rest! How do you expect anyone to heal on this ship if you do not give bodies time to recuperate?" "Doc," Tom said hastily, "I've been keeping an eye on them. They're fine. Really." "And we're done here," added Chakotay, "so they may return to Sickbay if you wish." "I do! I can't let my patients out of my sight for two seconds before my orders are disobeyed!" He paused for a split second for continuing. "Dr. Hacent, Ensign Garvic, if you would be so kind as to return with me to Sickbay?" The duo rose and began to follow the holodoc out of the conference room; before they left, though, the doctor stopped to address Captain Janeway. "Now Captain," he said with a hint of pleading in his voice. "PLEASE do not participate in any strenuous activity for the next several days. You need your rest!" "I won't, Doctor," she replied with laughter in her voice. Satisfied that his orders stood at least some chance of being obeyed, the holodoc left the conference room, his two patients trailing behind. "Now, Chakotay," the captain said as she turned her attention to her first officer, "do you want to fill me in?" "Of course, Captain. Tom, please accompany us to the brig." At Kathryn's look of surprise, he simply replied, "I'll explain it all. The rest of you are dismissed." The conference room emptied. * * * * * When the doorbell to Chief Engineer Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres' quarters rang the occupant groaned. The long, tiring week had been finished off with even a longer, more exhausting shift in Engineering. B'Elanna had been trying to put safeties on the ship's systems that would prevent the past week's occurrences from ever happening again. Unfortunately, it didn't seem you could do that without compromising other systems. After several incredibly frustrating hours, Torres had left Carey in charge of the project and retreated to her quarters eager for some food and sleep. *Which,* she thought on her way to the door, *doesn't seem to be coming any time soon.* "Tom!" B'Elanna exclaimed when she opened the door. "What are you doing here? I thought you had duty." She stepped back to allow him entrance. "The captain let me off. I just spent the past two hours in the brig, then in Sickbay. We were examining Tuvok." Tom collapsed onto B'Elanna's couch, obviously just as exhausted as she. "And?" She followed him into the living area. "And there's no trace of the virus in his system. Dr. Hacent says that his psychic patterns are normal. They've released him. The captain gave him two days leave to recover. I think that Tuvok was horrified. Not that he let it show, of course," Tom added. "Well, that's understandable. He's completely devoted to the captain. He'd die rather than let anyone harm her. And then for him to find out that it was he -- in whatever form -- who had almost killed her. I would think anyone would feel horrible." B'Elanna turned to address the replicator she had made her way to during the course of the conversation. "Computer, two coffees." The replicator produced two mugs of the steaming liquid in a shimmer of light. Torres picked them up and went to join Tom on the couch. Tom took the mug she offered and sipped it gratefully. "Thanks." The two of them just sat there, drinking their coffee and resting against the back of the couch until Tom spoke again. "You know, it was weird." "What?" "I was in Sickbay and Garvic woke up and saw me. For a second he looked just as hateful as he always has, but then he kind of smiled at me. It was like his whole face just relaxed, and suddenly he didn't look so hostile anymore. It was just really odd. I mean, Garvic hates me, but he seems to be letting it go. I didn't think that could ever happen." B'Elanna was silent for a moment before responding. "Maybe Dr. Hacent had something to do with that. I talked with Sam Wildman on my way to Engineering. She said that they've been getting close. Dr
. Hacent WAS the one who pulled Garvic back. Maybe . . . maybe she's had a good influence on him." Tom considered this for a moment. "I think you're right, B'Elanna. Garvic was the happiest I've ever seen him when he was with Dr. Hacent. He wouldn't leave her side in the conference room, and the two of them seemed to be able to communicate without words. I think . . . I think he's in love with her. And that is able to temper his feelings for me, you know?" "How can you tell? That he's in love with her, I mean," B'Elanna questioned. Tom put his mug down on the coffee table before responding. "Because," he said, looking deep into her eyes, "Garvic looks just like I feel when I'm with you." Tom took B'Elanna's hands in his own. "I need you to promise me something." B'Elanna tilted her head in a silent question. "I need you to promise me that if there's another evacuation you'll leave." "What?" she asked. Tom suddenly found the ceiling very interesting. This was dangerous territory. B'Elanna hated people trying to control her life. "Bella, I evacuated the ship for a reason. Had Chakotay not stepped in when he had -- " Sighing, he allowed his eyes to fall to meet those belonging to the woman across from him. "Do you have any idea how I felt when I saw you in that turbolift?" he whispered. "I have never been more frightened in my life. I was so scared." He clenched his eyes shut against the feelings washing over him. If the ship had exploded and she had been on it . . . . Whether he died or not was irrelevant. All that had mattered to him at that moment -- indeed, all that mattered to him at all -- was her. Her safety. Her happiness. Her life. "Hey." B'Elanna stroked his cheek, speaking in hushed tones. "This is not your fault. I chose to stay. I couldn't abandon the ship." She smiled ruefully. "I couldn't abandon YOU." Leaning forward, she kissed him gently. After a moment, she pulled back and regarded the blue eyed man next to her critically. "Besides," she continued with humor in her voice, "I knew you'd attempt to blow up my engines. I had to be there to run damage control." Tom laughed then and pulled the woman he loved into his embrace. As their lips met again, the tension and turmoil of the last week completely disappeared from their minds. * * * * * The captain knew it wouldn't be very long until someone came to her ready room to attempt to make her change her mind. Garvic had asked for permission to be put off the ship; he wanted to stay on Garena Terts, the Garn homeworld, and start a new life with Dr. Hacent away from Starfleet. Janeway had denied his request. She knew no one trusted Garvic. To avenge the death of his friend Ramos Benton at Caldik Prime, Garvic had tried to murder Lieutenant Paris by sabotaging Paris' shuttle. When that had failed, he had allowed Paris to suffer the horror of thinking he had caused the crash himself. Besides Paris, Ethan Simms, Mikel Hudson and Janine Lamont had also nearly been killed because of the rage of Jack Garvic. His continued presence on the ship, like Lon Suder's, had a disquieting effect on them all. Secretly she agreed with them. It probably would be better for them all if he did leave the ship, but Kathryn Janeway knew her duty. Garvic had to held responsible for the crime of attempted murder before a Starfleet judiciary panel; it was that simple. Everyone on board, even Neelix, would see that eventually. She kept this thought in her mind as the chime sounded. The person who came through her door, however, was not Chakotay or Paris or even a Starfleet officer at all. She found herself looking into the mesmerizing golden eyes of Lioree Hacent. Janeway's thoughts immediately flew to Kes. "I have been asking about her," said Lioree. "I could not help but be curious. Her name leaps into minds as I pass by. She must have been very special." "Yes," replied Janeway, leaning back in her chair, "she was. We all miss her enormously. She evolved into something unknown, something greater that what her people had ever been allowed to be. Without her gift, we might never have survived Borg space." "We know of the Borg. To be honest, the thought of them terrifies me. For three years our scientists have been working on various defenses, particularly a chroniton particle-based cloaking device. My friend Tarath is involved in such a project. I hope when the times comes the technology will be enough." "I hope so, too. Make no mistake; as an enemy they are beyond powerful. But I get the feeling you didn't come to talk about the Borg." "No," Lioree admitted. "I have come to plead Jack's case, of course. Captain, with our help, he may be able to overcome his anger, grief, and guilt. He can be a valued member of society again. Perhaps he can even learn to love again. You must give him that chance." The captain stood and walked around her desk, indicating the sofa. They both sat. "The doctor told me you had taken a personal interest in him; indeed, I have noticed it myself. I have studied his file. I was not surprised to learn he has an ancestor from Betazed -- Betazoid's are talented telepaths. But make no mistake, Doctor, he will go back with us to someday stand trial." "He has been honest with me about what he tried to do, and I think he is genuinely remorseful. Captain, on my world he would be offered a new life. Would you deny him the chance to become more than he is? Is that not the point of rehabilitation? Please, accept our offer of sanctuary for him. I -- he -- has reawakened in me something I thought was gone forever. For my sake, reconsider. I beg you." Kathryn's heart contracted. She had feared this moment was coming. After all Lioree had done for them, after she had risked her life for them, it had come to this. She closed her eyes. *Admiral Paris once told me there would be days when that fourth pip would weigh as much as a black hole,* she thought. *This is one of those days.* "I'm sorry," she said aloud. "If there were any way, I would do as you ask. I feel for you both, I really do. However, my decision on this is final." Lioree sighed and grasped the captain's hands in her own. "I feel your pain. You know it would be best, but you feel trapped by your duty. I understand. We all do what we have to," she said pointedly. "But do not despair. My people have a saying, 'Dawn comes even to the darkest forest.'" She rose to go. "I must return to my own people now. Good-bye, Captain." The captain rose also. "Good-bye, Dr. Hacent. Thank you for everything. Your people have been enormously generous to us. They have supplied us with food, spare parts, medical supplies, astrometric charts, even power cells, and asked for nothing in return. I feel like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop." "Captain?" "Never mind. I'll escort you to the shuttlebay." Thirty minutes later, the captain came onto the bridge, took her seat and gazed at the viewscreen, looking for the last time at the sparkling jewel that was Garena Terts. "Mr. Paris, break orbit. Ahead warp factor one." Tom turned slowly in his chair, looking at her oddly with those piercing blue eyes. "I'm sorry, Captain, I can't do that." * * * * * Captain Janeway paced in Transporter Room 1, stopping only occasionally to study the handsome features of Lonzo Zoomo, the transporter chief. He stood, statue-like, standing in his position at the control panel. The entire ship's complement was immobile, frozen at their stations in catatonic, zombie-like states, prisoners of the Garn. She had been assured that it was a harmless trance, but quite debilitating. The Garn demand had been simple -- she was to leave behind one crewmember who could assist them in preparing for a possible future encounter with the Borg. The choice was up to her, but they had heard of a talented geologist named Garvic experienced with chronitons. Could he be spared? His previous record was of no importance. On the Garn homeworld there were no secrets. She glanced at the doctor. "I think I hear the sound of a dropping shoe." "Perhaps we should pass the time with amusing anecdotes," said the doctor. "I'll go first. A telepath walks into a bar and the bartender says, 'What'll you have?' 'See if you can see my thoughts,' says the telepath. The bartender comes back with the most expensive champagne on the menu, and says 'That'll be 10 strips of latinum.' The telepath says, "I didn't order this! I ordered a glass of ginger ale! "Sorry, no refunds,' says the bartender. 'They look just the same, you know." The captain narrowed her eyes. "Your program can be deleted." The doc looked crestfallen. "Sandrine through it was hysterical." He waved Lonzo's arm. "Zoomo thinks so, too." Janeway was relieved from further comment by the swoosh of the door. Ensign Jack Garvic came through, dressed in civilian clothes and carrying a duffel bag in one hand. "Captain, I don't know what to say. I'm sorry." She shook her head. "Perhaps I should have seen it coming." She held out her hand. "Good luck, Jack
. I'm sure you'll need it." He grasped her hand warmly with a shy smile, then pulled off his combadge and handed it to her, quoting the old recruitment slogan, "'Starfleet -- The Ultimate Adventure.'" The doors opened again, and Lieutenant Paris came in, almost at a run, then stopped short when he saw Garvic. "Lioree spoke in my mind. She told the others to let go, and she asked me to come here. Now I see why. I guess this means you're leaving." "I guess so," Garvic replied. There was an awkward silence, then Tom said, "Ramos, Claudia, Noel. I'll never forget Caldik Prime, Garvic. You know that." "I know. You have a special lady, Paris. You better take good care of her, because you don't deserve her, you know." He turned and took his place on the transporter pad. "Funny," said Paris, coming to stand next to the captain. "I could say the exact same thing about you." Janeway wondered if Garvic would offer Paris his hand and if Tom would take it if he did. For a long moment, the two tall men simply stared at each other for what they both knew would be the last time. Then Garvic snapped to attention and, raising his arm, he gave the pilot a crisp, old-fashioned salute. Tom hesitated, then he also stood at attention and returned the salute. "Energize," said the captain. * * * * * Helmsman's personal log: 'I'm sorry, Captain, I can't do that.' How lame. They made me say it. I didn't want to; I just couldn't help myself. Telepaths. Who needs them? Give me a Klingon any day. At least you KNOW what they're thinking. This has been one of the longest weeks I think I've ever served on Voyager. Most of the crew got sick, people went nuts, Torres almost died, Tuvok tried to destroy us, and then we all got turned into zombies! I was actually in command for a few minutes and what did I do? Tossed everyone into lifepods and nearly destroyed the central computer core. I think I'll go grab a soda and work on the Camaro for a while. First, though, I'm going to have the doc look at this itchy red place on my arm . . . . "