VIRTUAL SEASON 7.5

episode 36

Cyclops

[PREVIOUSLY ON VS 7.5: The Federation has responded to a request from the Vidiians to bring stability to that sector of space by forming a task force of three ships -- Voyager II, commanded by Capt. Kathryn Janeway; Odyssey, commanded by Capt. Geordi La Forge; and the colony ship Pioneer, commanded by Capt. Joshua Merves. The ships are equipped with transwarp drive and are prepared for a one year mission that includes helping the Vidiians and Ocampans establish a colony on New Earth and making contact with the Briori and the 37s. Captain Janeway married her former first officer, now retired from Starfleet, at the ceremony dedicating Voyager II, but he (as well as Tuvok's wife T'Pel) is one of the civilian scientists participating in the mission.]

PROLOGUE -- In the Beta Quadrant

It had no name. It had no past, no future. It had a Purpose, and nothing else.

It had no sense of time. A minute and a century were the same to it. The Purpose was timeless and eternal.

It had no electronics, no chips, no circuitry. No data banks. It was a marvel of engineering, a fusion of organics with metallurgy, with a dash of genetic programming. If it had realized this, it would have been proud. But it had no sense of self. It existed to fulfill the Purpose, and that was all. That was enough.

It did not think, exactly, at least not in the sense of forming structured ideas and concepts. It did not guess or speculate, as it had sufficient memory to learn from its experiences and sufficient sensory input to evaluate its targets. The Purpose and that was sufficient to propel it onward.

Onward. Seek out new worlds, new civilizations.

Keaynn Warp Ship Seeker Ten

A small ship, scarcely more than a tube of metal with two engines extending aft, dropped out of warp at the fringe of the planetary system and its pilot let out a shout of triumph. "Wheee-ah!" he yelled, not caring that there was no one to hear him. Some moments demanded celebration, even a solitary one. "We did it! It worked!"

Wonder washed over him as he, Distor Stann, became the first of his people to have this view of the Keaynn system; before now, many of his predecessors and colleagues had seen the outbound vista as they tested the faster-than-light engines but he was the first to actually make it back. He took in the sight of Dresto, the icy planetoid that marked the system's outermost reach and then looked inward to the other planets -- airless Dontal, stormy Palto, and poisonous Karrew. Then he found it, the object of his search, a shining hemisphere of blue and green and white in the light of the star. Keaynn. Home.

Remembering his duties, Stann thumbed the communications system and lifted the microphone in his dominant upper right hand. "This is Seeker Ten calling Keaynnin Base. I'm back."

He returned the microphone to its slot, knowing at least ten doradorcals would pass before his message reached its target. "That's something we're going to have to work on," he said aloud. He'd gotten into the habit of talking to himself during this mission, just so he could hear something besides the hum of the engines. "We can't be traipsing all over the galaxy if we don't have decent communications."

Then he grinned. Traipsing around the galaxy. Yes, they could do that now. Finally, after nearly a century of research and testing and failure, the key was in their hands. The Keaynnin could look beyond their own crowded planet. Anything -- everything! -- was possible now: they could find suitable planets for colonization that wouldn't require years of terraforming; they could build space stations and develop trade and supply routes between the colonies and Keaynn; they could save themselves from extinction.

A glint of light caught his attention and his grin faded. Something seemed to appear out of the sun's corona, an optical illusion but startling nonetheless. Something huge and white and unimaginable. "What is that?" he asked.

It glided forward and then angled, and his eyes widened in shock. The thing was a giant elongated cone, gleaming white against the blackness of space. Ignoring his shaking hand, he checked to make certain the external cameras were recording. If the Base missed it, no one would ever believe him.

Then he opened the microphone attain. "Keaynnin Base! This is Stann -- Seeker Ten! Do you see it? What is it?"

There was no response, of course. The message wouldn't reach them for ten doradorcals..

He watched in fascination as the great cone moved forward. Fascination changed to horror as he realized it was moving with a purpose -- it was heading for Keaynn.

The thing slowed abruptly, the wide end of its cone facing the blue and green planet. Then, slowly, the tip of the cone began to rise, curling above the main body of the cone itself and then straightening to a ninety-degree angle.

The tip suddenly inflated to a spherical shape that glowed pale green. Then, without warning, a visible beam of green light erupted from it, aimed directly at the planet. It tracked swiftly across the planet's surface.

Stann grabbed the microphone. "Base! What's happening?"

As suddenly as the beam of light had appeared, it stopped. Stann swallowed hard, and force himself to breathe. Whatever had been done, it was over.

And then wide, flat front of the cone came alive. Its mouth split into an iris that retracted, revealing a teeming whirlpool of orange and yellow energy. The speed of the vortex increased, until the center seemed to be a ball of flame. The ball began to expand, forming a bubble pushing outward, trying to escape the confines of the cone ...

...until it burst, and a flare -- a beam -- a giant shaft of flame spewed out and drilled directly into the planet's largest continent. Stann watched, unable to move, as chunks of land and bedrock large enough to be seen at this distance were thrown into Keaynn's atmosphere.

He saw fault lines spreading across the continent, and then the adjoining southern continent, and then he saw nothing, because the explosion of light blinded him, despite the protective coating on his view screen. He threw an arm across his eyes, but it was too late.

When he could see again, the cone was still there.

Keaynn wasn't.

The blue and green planet, home to five billion people, was simply gone. In its place, he saw only chunks of rock and debris, drifting in all directions. The cone's maw was dark red now, a deep crimson. And it was sucking in the debris as if it were a household vacuum extractor.

His console signaled an incoming message. Without looking down, Stann touched the "receive" toggle. "Welcome home, Seeker Ten." He recognized the baritone voice of Milok Tone, the Mission Director. He'd known Milok since their first year at University. "You did it. We've got a party waiting for you. But before you leave that position, take a look in the general direction of the sun. Our satellites are reporting something odd."

The message, sent ten doradorcals earlier, ended. The cabin suddenly seemed more silent than ever.

Stann watched the cone suck in the last bit of dust that had been his home. The iris on the opening closed, and the tail lowered until the monstrosity was again in a completely horizontal plane. It began gliding forward again, but when it was pointed at Kerrew the tip of the cone again rose and assumed a ninety-degree angle. Then the tip puffed out and issued the same pale green beam to the planet's surface. This time, though, when the green light was cut off, the maw did not open. Instead, the tail retracted and the cone began to glide toward Palto.

For the first time since the explosion, Stann became capable of thought. The thing had passed up Kerrew but who knew what would happen next -- and it was heading in his general direction. Heart racing, he fired up his faster-than-light engines and turned Seeker Ten around. As soon as he could, he engaged the engines and watched the stars become a blur.

He didn't know where he was going; as far as ten days of fuel would take him, he supposed. He just knew he had to run.

The Priests and Elders had always assured the Keaynnins they were unique, that there was no other intelligent life in the universe. For the first time in his life, Distor Stann prayed that the Priests and the Elders were very, very wrong.

ACT ONE

USS Voyager II -- Captain's Quarters

The dream began, as dreams often do, in the middle of its story, and yet it made perfect sense. Kathryn was seated at a formal banquet table, wearing her dress uniform -- the red uniform that she had worn throughout eight years in the Delta Quadrant, not the unflattering white Starfleet adopted during her absence. The elaborate flatware glittered gold and silver under the lights of the multiple chandeliers. She had never seen so many forks and knives and wondered what she was supposed to do with all of them.

She wasn't the only one confused by the settings. Across the long, narrow table Chakotay caught her eye and smiled ruefully. He, too was in his red dress uniform, which was a little odd since he was no longer in Starfleet. On the other hand, she had always thought he looked particularly good in that uniform.

"Captain Janeway," a voice beside her said, and she turned to her left. A Vidiian smiled at her broadly. "So good of you to come. And all this way, too."

"The Federation felt your message was important," she replied.

"And what would you like for dinner?" Another Vidiian, now seated next to Chakotay, asked.

This surprised her; formal dinners such as this usually had a fixed menu. "Are there choices?"

"Oh, yes," the Vidiian next to her assured here. "There are always choices."

"For instance," the Vidiian beside Chakotay said, "I believe I'll start with some liver." He picked up a fork and knife from the table, and without hesitation, plunged them into Chakotay's abdomen.

Chakotay half rose in shock, then collapsed to his chair as the Vidiaan pulled out the entire liver. "Perfect," the Vidiian said.

As Chakotay stared dully at her, Kathryn jumped to her feet but then was unable to move. All she could do was shout, "No! You can't do that!"

"Of course they can." Kes spoke calmly from Kathryn's right. "It's what Vidiians do. I thought you understood that."

"I'm partial to kidney myself," said the Vidiian on Kathryn's left.

"Coming right up." With a flourish, the Vidiaan across the table plunged a fresh knife and fork in Chakotay and yanked them out, a kidney speared on the tines.

"Oh, dear," Denara Pel said, suddenly appearing on the other side of Chakotay. "I'm sorry, Captain, I really hadn't planned on this."

Ambassador Diaza put a hand on her shoulder, his antennae drooping toward her sympathetically. "There's no need to apologize," he told her. "It's hardly your fault, Dr. Pel. Everyone knows that Starfleet can't manage a decent first contact."

"Ambassador, don't you see what's happening?" Kathryn asked, aghast.

"I have eyes." He shrugged. "But the first rule of diplomacy is never to insult your host." Then he smiled at the Vidiian who was still hovering next to Chakotay's still body. "Could I try the spareribs?"

With a supreme effort, Kathryn willed herself awake before the Vidiian plunged the knife into Chakotay again. Even so, the dream had been so vivid that she had to lay still for a few moments for her mind to fully transition back to reality. She was in her own bed, on Voyager II, and Chakotay was lying beside her. For a few seconds she listened to him breathe, just to assure herself that he wasn't hurt. Then she rolled out of bed and quietly went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face.

Her heart was still pounding, and she took a deep breath. True, she had some misgivings about this mission to the Vidiians, but until now she hadn't realized how deep they ran. And the worst part was, there was almost no way she could convince Ambassador Diaza that they needed to approach the assignment with as much skepticism as hope. He was convinced she had bungled First Contact with the Vidiians a decade ago. As if it were possible to bungle a First Contact that began with the other party stealing the lungs from one of her crew and then raiding her ship for more!

Well, dealing with diplomats -- even Federation diplomats -- was a time-honored burden of Starfleet commanders. Even the redoubtable Spock, who later became an ambassador himself, had written of his frustration with the bureaucratic mind. She would just have to find a way to gain Diaza's respect, if not his trust. Perhaps Daeja would have some suggestions after spending more time with him. Kathryn resolved to call her friend on the Pioneer in the morning.

As she reached for a towel, she noticed the light reflect off the simple wedding band on her finger. It was new enough to bring a smile to her face and remind her that she was, more or less, on her honeymoon. The convoy's current destination was Deep Space 10, located on the Federation's most extreme border with the Romulans. There, they would pick up the remaining colonists, run final tests of the transwarp engines, and finally begin the mission to the Delta Quadrant in earnest. The ten-day journey was intended to let the crews get accustomed to working together and work out any bugs in the newly christened ships.

As far as Kathryn was concerned, it was also her chance to get accustomed to being married while in command. Even though she and Chakotay had been virtually inseparable since his pardon, things were different now. They needed to adjust to new rhythms and flows in their life on shipboard. And while she had no doubts about the strength of their bond, she also knew -- only too well -- there would be times when the dictates of command would conflict with her personal life. They had a laid a good foundation, but she had no intention of taking the relationship for granted.

"No time like the present," she said softly as she replaced the towel, and then she grinned at herself in the mirror. She was wide-awake now, and she had a feeling that Chakotay wouldn't mind too much if she woke him as well. At least, not for something as important as their honeymoon.

Beta Quadrant -- Romulan Science Ship Sseikea

Danok, commander of the science ship Sseikea, couldn't help feeling annoyed. When he had been offered command of this mission, he had been assured that nothing unusual would happen. He needed only four months to qualify for his full pension, and Admiral D'Kan had promised him that he could finish his term with honor but without incident. He wasn't a coward; far from it, Danok had an honorable career. But nearly a year in a Jem'Hadar prison camp had turned his hair white, depleted his poise and eroded his confidence. His mere survival was a triumph of will, and the Admiralty had rewarded him with this assignment, scanning for valuable elements and metals in a remote sector of the Beta Quadrant remarkable only for its lack of traffic.

So when the centurion manning the long-range scanners said, "Sir, I'm picking up an unidentified object," Danok was annoyed. There weren't supposed to be any 'unidentified objects' out here. There wasn't supposed to be anything except the Sseikea and the small space station that served as its base of operations.

"Be more specific," he snapped.

"It appears to be an artificial construct," the centurion -- Danok hadn't bothered to learn his name -- said. "Ten meters long, titanium alloy, hollow, one life sign. I believe it must be a ship, but the configuration is unfamiliar."

A ship? Danok frowned deeply. There were no spacefaring races in this sector, nor in the next. The inhabited planets were all pre-warp civilizations; that's why it was so quiet here. "On screen," he ordered.

His frown deepened at the image. The object was undeniably a space ship -- primitive, small and derelict. It looked cold and dead, and despite the fact that the Sseikea could destroy it in less than ten seconds, the sight of it filled him with foreboding. He didn't know why, but he had a feeling he was looking at his doom.

The second in command, Subcommander Kelar, looked up from his console. "The life sign matches the anthropological files on the planet Keaynn, approximately one parsec from here." When Danok only raised an eyebrow in response, he went on, "Keaynn is a primarily agrarian society last surveyed twenty years ago. The last report indicated they were fifty years from developing warp technology."

"Apparently they didn't see the schedule," Danok said.

"The bioreadings are in fluctuation," Kelar said. "I believe the occupant is dying."

Danok said nothing. It could be a trick, a means of gaining access to the Sseikea. Or it could be what it seemed, an unfortunate Pioneer dying of sheer bad luck. And if so, why should he care? When had the Romulans cared about the weak and wayward, except to render them harmless to the Empire?

On the other hand, when had the Romulans feared the weak and the wayward? Perhaps they should rescue this unlucky traveler and interrogate him to learn what other advances Keaynn had achieved ahead of schedule.

The entire bridge crew was staring at him, waiting for his order. Shamed by his indecision, he nodded once. "Beam him to Sickbay. Alert the medics that I want to talk to him as soon as possible."

USS Pioneer -- Colonists Mess Hall

"And then her eyes lit up, and she said..." Neelix paused for dramatic effect, building to the punch line of his story. The former Voyager crew members at the table -- Michael Ayala, Angelo and Celes Tessoni, Jim Morrow and Sarexa -- were already grinning, but the others, especially Daeja Thev and Kajee Narel, were starting at him in rapt attention. "Then Captain Janeway said, 'There's coffee in that nebula.'"

Kajee smiled hesitantly, clearly not understanding. Her knowledge of Voyager was limited to what she had acquired since learning her foster son was actually Mike Ayala's boy, and this was something she had missed. Daeja Thev, though, laughed out loud. "That is typical Kathryn," she said, her antennae curling in amusement. "Confronting a scientific mystery and gorgeous example of nature, she thinks of coffee."

Ayala leaned close to Kajee. "You have to know Captain Janeway to really appreciate it, Narel."

"Yeah, but what I want to know is how you are so certain of that, Neelix," Angelo said with a broad smile. "I'm pretty sure you weren't on the bridge then."

"I heard from Commander Tuvok. " Neelix leaned back smugly, knowing his source was impeccable.

"Oh, my," Sarexa said. "Look who's joined us."

Everyone turned to follow her gaze and saw that Ambassador Diaza had entered the Colonists Mess Hall. "That's a first," Angelo said under his breath. The Andorian Ambassador preferred to take his meals alone in his quarters or in the Officers Mess, with Captain Merves.

Daeja's smile disappeared. "He's probably looking for me." Neelix realized for the first time that Commander Thev was not enjoying her assignment as attaché to the Federation Ambassador to the Delta Quadrant.

Sure enough, the Ambassador looked around until he spotted Commander Thev, and then he moved purposefully across the room to towards their table. Daeja pushed her tray back, and rose as her fellow Andorian approached.

"Ambassador Diaza," she said. "How may I help you?"

"Sit down, Commander," the Ambassador said. "I was looking for Ambassador Neelix."

Neelix straightened reflexively. "Oh? Well, please pull up a chair and join us."

Diaza looked around the table. "That's very kind, but I was hoping for a private conversation. Apparently my messages haven't reached you."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I haven't even looked at my message service. We've been so busy the last few days, making sure everyone was settled in. A little chat, one ambassador to another? Of course. I'm at your service -- as soon as I've finished lunch. This stew is too good to waste." He smiled widely. "You might want to try some yourself."

"No, thank you." Diaza held himself stiffly, as if trying not to shudder.

"At least join us for a cup of tea," Sarexa urged. "We have an extra cup handy."

Daeja added, "Do join us. You haven't had an opportunity to meet many of the colonists."

From the expression on his face, Diaza agreed with that observation and would have liked to keep it that way. But that look was quickly replaced with a professional diplomat's smile. "Thank you. Madam Neelix, I would be grateful for a cup of tea."

"Call me Sarexa," she said as she poured him a cup from the large carafe on the table. "And why don't we go around the table and introduce ourselves."

As they did so, Diaza listened carefully and when they were finished, he said, "You were all on Voyager, I believe. Except Commander Thev, of course, and you, Ms. Kajee. At least, I don't recall your name."

"You're right," Neelix said, impressed. "You've really done your homework."

"It's important to have the entire picture." Diaza took a small sip of the tea.

"I hear you don't think Janeway handled the Vidiians very well." Jim Morrow, sitting at the opposite corner of the table, spoke a little too loudly.

Neelix winced at Morrow's confrontational tone, but Diaza remained unruffled. As he set down his cup he said, "I realize it was a difficult situation, but yes, I do think it could have been handled better by a true diplomat."

"You're probably right," Morrow said sarcastically. "When they boarded the ship, I'm sure you could have got them to sit down and talk instead of ripping out vital organs."

"Jim," Celes Tessoni said softly. To Neelix's relief, the admonition was enough to make Morrow lean back and frown rather than say anything else.

"I've read those reports," Diaza said. "Frankly, I always allow for some exaggeration. No one likes to admit they mishandled a first contact situation."

Before the others could react, Neelix said, "There was no exaggeration, Ambassador. The Vidiians were little more than pirates at that time. They weren't interested in cultural exchanges."

"Just body part exchanges," Angelo added.

"You make them sound like monsters," Diaza said, apparently unimpressed.

"Not monsters." Neelix spoke firmly. "But they did monstrous things. They were desperate. The Phage very nearly brought them to extinction."

"They weren't always like that," Sarexa added. "Before the Phage, they were known as a very sophisticated and generous people."

Diaza nodded. "Exactly. I'm sure they always were. Voyager's unfortunate first encounter set a tone for subsequent relations. My mission will be to rectify that regrettable state of affairs."

The conversation was beginning to grate on Neelix. "You make it sound as if Voyager were to blame."

"That's not my intention. I am merely acknowledging the facts."

"The facts," Neelix said, his throat tight with irritation, "are that the Vidiians terrorized their area of space for decades. The first time they found Voyager, they ripped out both my lungs and then raided the ship to take more. The second time, they killed several crewmen and tried to tear apart the DNA of B'Elanna Torres. The third time, they did their best to capture the ship and take us prisoner. Voyager did nothing to provoke them except to be there, with a healthy crew."

Diaza looked surprised. "They really took your lungs? I assumed that was an exaggeration, since you obviously survived."

"Our physician saved me by creating holographic lungs until Kes volunteered to donate one to me." Neelix looked him in the eye. "The reports are not exaggerated, Ambassador."

"I see." Diaza's antennae curled inward as he took a long sip of tea. When he set the cup down again, he glanced around the table. "I'm surprised you all agreed to join this colony, given the way you feel about the Vidiians."

"Dr. Pel was always our friend," Celes said. "And Kes says it's safe."

Jim Morrow snorted. "Nothing in the Delta Quadrant is safe, Celes. And I don't care if the Vidiians are as healthy as a horse on derby day -- you still can't trust 'em."

Neelix saw the color drain from Kajee Narel's face in reaction to Morrow's words. Apparently Ayala did too, because he said immediately, "The Vidiians are like anyone else, Jim. They've got good people and bad people. But if Kes says they're different than before, that's good enough for me."

Diaza rose. "Thank you for the tea, and the most interesting conversation. Ambassador Neelix, perhaps you could stop by my quarters later? 1500, if it would be convenient."

"My pleasure." When the Andorian was gone, Neelix shook his head. "I wonder if he's irritating on purpose. Is it some sort of diplomatic skill?"

"No," Daeja Thev said. "He honestly believes that no one in Starfleet can do anything but fight."

Sarexa frowned. "Well, at least we set him straight about the Vidiians."

"Perhaps." Daeja glanced at the door through which Diaza had left. "Perhaps."

Beta Quadrant -- Romulan Science Ship Sseikea

Consciousness returned quickly to Distor Stann; he went from oblivion to wakefulness with no steps in between. As soon as he opened his eyes, his two hearts began to pound furiously. In the days he drifted through space after his fuel had run out, he had come to terms with the fact that his world was gone and he had a very limited future. His last thoughts as he slid into blackness had been that he would awaken in the Cradle of Souls or not at all; he had always been ambivalent in his religious beliefs. But with only a glance he knew he was someplace the Elders had never imagined.

A being of stern visage stood beside his bed, frowning. He was generally built like a Keaynn, but only two arms were visible, his skin was a strange color, a kind of pinkish beige with odd hints of green instead of a nice, healthy gray. His forehead was thick and his silver hair short, revealing ears that were -- Stann swallowed -- pointed.

When he took the Seeker Ten assignment, he had hoped to prove the Elders wrong and find other intelligent life in space. Now that he was apparently looking at it, he was terrified.

The frowning silverhair spoke. His voice was deep but the words were gibberish. "I don't understand," Stann said, but even so couldn't help asking, "Who are you? Where am I?"

Apparently the lack of understanding was mutual. Silverhair turned his head, and for the first time Stann saw a second being in the room, one who looked just like Silverhair except that his hair was dark as a tooli bird. Stann didn't need to understand the language to recognize authority when he heard it. Silverhair was clearly in charge. Tooli-hair uttered a meaningless syllable, and then slapped something against Stann's chest. The move caught him completely by surprise, and he had no chance to block it. Dismayed, he looked down. Whatever it was, it was no larger than a clan brooch.

"Do you understand me now?" Silverhair asked, in perfect Keaynn.

Stunned, Stann whispered, "Yes."

"Good. I am Commander Danok. You are on my ship, the Imperial Science Ship Sseikea."

A ship. Looking around, Stann realized he was in an infirmary. There were several beds, all unoccupied, and two other crewmembers standing on the other side of the room. There were lights and consoles and monitors, and each of them was more surprising than the first. The technology was completely incomprehensible and clearly far more advanced than anything on Keaynn. The room alone was ten times the size of the crew cabin on Seeker Ten; the rest of the ship must be huge.

He suddenly felt as if all the blood in his body congealed as the full force of reality hit him. He was talking to aliens. He was conversing with intelligent life that had never set foot on blessed Keaynn. He was the first of his people to encounter beings from other worlds.

He was the last of his people to encounter beings from other worlds. The irony of it left him mute.

"I just introduced myself," Silverhair -- Commander Danok -- said. "It is considered good manners for you now to do the same."

Stann straightened his shoulders. "I am Distor Stann, pilot of the Seeker Ten of the Keaynn Space Exploration Authority." His words triggered a sudden thought. "My ship -- where is my ship?"

"In our cargo bay. You were drifting in space; we took you for a derelict at first." He hesitated, then said, "We have uploaded your records. We need to ask you about the weapon you observed."

Tears burned his eyes, but he was unashamed. "A weapon. Sacred Powers, it was a weapon. Do you know who sent it? Why did they do it? We couldn't hurt anyone."

"I don't know," Danok said, his expression troubled. "That's what worries me."

Alien though he was, Stann had no doubt that this man, who commanded a ship beyond the fantasy of the wildest dreamers, was clearly telling the truth. And somehow, that was the most terrifying thing Stann had experienced since watching the destruction of his home.

USS Odyssey -- Jenny Delaney's Quarters

"How do I look?" Jenny Delaney asked, circling around for Harry's inspection even as she smoothed a non-existent wrinkle out of her uniform jacket. Somehow she had tamed her curly hair and pulled it back into a tight twist. He didn't think it was particularly flattering, but instinct told him he should keep that opinion to himself.

"Fine. You look fine." He shook his head. "It's not that big a thing, Jenny. It's just an informal reception for the senior staff, and you've already met them all."

"Sure have." She rolled her eyes. "And a fine job I've made of it so far. The Chief Engineer gets tongue-tied whenever he sees me."

Harry grinned. "I think he's got a crush on you already. He asked me if we're a couple." When she looked alarmed, he added quickly, "Don't worry. I told him we're just friends. But he may not believe me when he sees us come in together tonight. Are you sure you need an escort?"

She laughed. "Don't weasel out on me, Harry. I need protection. It's not just Lt. James. Apparently I didn't make a good first impression on the XO."

Harry couldn't help frowning. Commander Sam Lavelle had been completely professional, if distant, in his interactions with Harry since their first awkward meeting. "Is he giving you a problem?"

"Not really. But he's got a way of making me fell like a first year cadet." Suddenly she looked unhappy. "I was a first year cadet when he was a senior. I looked it up."

"You knew him at the Academy?"

"No." She shook her head once. "I never even heard of him, but then, I wasn't paying too much attention to anything outside my immediate circle. But," and she looked even more unhappy, "I'm beginning to wonder if he heard of me. I, um, I wasn't exactly known for my academic achievements as a cadet."

Unbidden, the voice of Tom Paris echoed in Harry's mine. 'The Delaney sisters, Harry,' Tom had said as he tried to convince Harry to go on a double date not long after they were first stranded in the Delta Quadrant. The implication had been unmistakable -- and something Tom had plainly known from his first hitch in Starfleet. Come to think of it, Tom and Lavelle had been in the same class.

Jenny went on, "It's funny, but I never expected to be a career officer. I went along with Megan because she wanted to be in Starfleet, and we'd never been apart, and it sounded like fun for a while. Look at us now. Megan is out of the service and getting married, and I just want to be taken seriously as an officer. But if he's thinking of me like I was back then-"

"I don't think that's what it is," Harry said. "I'm pretty sure it has more to do with the fact that we were on Voyager. For some reason, I think he thinks we didn't earn our rank."

Jenny looked at him dubiously. "You've said that before, but it seems so, so petty. I figured it had to be me."

He almost laughed. "Is that why you have your hair pulled so tight?"

Her hand flew to her temple. "I wanted to look serious. Not good?" When he shook his head, she smiled. "Give me two minutes." Then she disappeared into the private area of her quarters.

For a moment, he considered telling her to hurry, but thought better of it. They weren't late for the Captain's reception yet and Jenny was nothing if not efficient. Rather than sit, he wandered aimlessly around the room. In typical Jenny fashion, it was already filled with knick-knacks and mementos that made the space unmistakably hers. He picked up a silver-framed holoimage of Jenny and Megan when they were nine or ten, wearing identical pink dresses and flanking a young boy (who was surely their brother Robbie). Another picture near it caught his eye -- it was of himself, Tom Paris and the twins, each dressed for the Captain Proton program on Voyager.

On another table, he noted what looked like a block of wood and picked it up. Someone had planed one side of the rough-barked segment to a smooth surface and carved a Celtic knot. He remembered Hugh Murphy working on this on New Hope, at night around the campfires. Hugh and Jenny had been close then, just like he and Marla. . . he set the piece down and turned away. A message from Marla had arrived just that morning, but he hadn't opened it yet. He still hadn't decided if he was going to open it.

"Is this better?"

He wheeled around to find Jenny, posing like a fashion model. She had re-styled her hair into its customary ponytail, pinned neatly in the back and with loose curls on her forehead. "Much," he said. "Shall we go?"

Romulan Science Ship Sseikea

"Message coming in from base," the communications officer said.

Danok rubbed his eyes, trying to clear them before accepting the message. He hadn't slept since they pulled the derelict ship on board. He had known it was trouble the instant he laid eyes on it, and the images from the primitive records haunted his mind whenever he tried to rest. "Hnafirh'rau. Let me see it."

The face of Subcommander Liva, his long-time friend and occasional rival at cards, stared back at him. "Commander, our scanners have identified a large vessel or entity approaching from the Keaynn sector. It appears to match the description you provided earlier."

"Send us the data," he said. His voice sounded normal, he noted with satisfaction. His stomach was already shrinking to a hard nut.

"Transmitting now." Liva glanced at something to her left, then raised a hand to someone off screen. "I'm also sending you data from the long range scans we performed. Keaynn is not the only planet that has disappeared. We can locate only three planets in the Nakar system."

Nakar, he knew, should have five planets, two of which were inhabited with pre-warp species. According to the records, they were both centuries away from developing space travel. "Which planets are. . .missing?"

"The ones with oxygen-nitrogen atmospheres." Liva, rarely given to humor, looked grim. "Nakar is directly between here and Keaynn."

"Yes." Danok nodded. By now, the data had been received and appeared on his console. He recognized the shape of the object immediately. "Subcommander, this is the same object recorded by the Keaynn ship. Go to defensive mode immediately."

"Already done." Someone off screen spoke to her, and she nodded. "The object is within visual range now. I'm going to switch channels now, Commander, so you can see what we see."

By S'Task's sword, she was a cool one. Despite the distance between them, he was almost trembling with fear for her and the fourteen others on the station, yet she was the epitome of calm. "Perhaps it's only interested in planets," he said, and then was appalled to realize he had spoken aloud.

Still, it prompted a half smile from her. "Perhaps. Or perhaps we shall prove too small to be of interest. This is, as you have often noted, a puny excuse for a space station."

He managed to smile back at her. The station was little more than an oversized satellite, serving as a watching post on this sector of space and base of operations and maintenance bay for the Sseikea. Still, it represented a certain sense of stability and order in this backwater.

Liva inclined her head, a gesture of farewell, and then the picture shifted so that it originated with the station's external cameras. The small white dot in space grew larger rapidly, until it was plainly visible. There was no doubt that this was the same entity recorded by Distor Stann: a giant cone, gleaming white against the blackness of space, slowing as it approached the station.

As it came to a halt, the tip of the cone raised itself until it was at a ninety-degree angle from the main body. Then the tip inflated into a pale green sphere. Without signal or warning, a beam of green light erupted from it, aimed directly at the station.

"Subcommander!" Danok barked.

On an audio channel, Liva responded, "It is some form of scan. We are still transmitting data."

The bridge crew on Sseikea had fallen silent as they stared at the screen. The beam ended as abruptly as it had begun, and for a second .. then two seconds... then three, nothing happened.

Danok realized he was holding his breath, and inhaled.

The flat front of the cone suddenly irised open, revealing a great maw of swirling energy. "No," Danok whispered.

A flame-colored ball of energy seemed to burst out of the cone. The screen flared white, then went black.

Danok closed his eyes. He kept them closed as the rating at communications said slowly, "Sir, we have lost the signal."

He thought the bridge had never been so quiet. He could here the crew breathing. "Ta'khoi. Screen off. Navigator, set a course for the station's coordinates," he said softly. There was no need to raise his voice. "Communications, get through to headquarters. I need to talk to Admiral D'Tur. Declare a class-1 priority."

Opening his eyes, he saw that the crew seemed relieved to have something to do. He wished he did. All he could do was think about the fact that he owed Liva ten credits from their last game of lle-rho. He would have to send it to her husband, back on ch'Rihan.

USS Odyssey, Captain's Dining Room

Sam Lavelle was the first to arrive at conference room that had been set up for the Captain's reception. As First Officer, it was part of his duty to see that everything was up to snuff -- and if not, to fix it before the Captain arrived. Fortunately, it appeared that the galley staff had done an excellent job. The conference room furniture had been rearranged to open up the room and encourage mingling, and tables laden with appetizers and snacks lined one wall.

Despite his approval of the set-up of the room, he looked over the buffet table with a healthy dose of skepticism. The display was designed for maximum aesthetic effect, down to the vase of scarlet feathers in the center of a plate of tiny Argellian deviled eggs, liberally sprinkled with paprika. In his experience, though, the more artistic the appearance, the more he disliked the food. For some reason beyond his ken, Starfleet cooks couldn't seem to master the skills of good taste and appealing presentation at the same time.

To test this theory, he picked up one of the deviled eggs and popped it into his mouth. In two seconds, he realized his mistake. The red seasoning wasn't paprika at all, but something much hotter. He was sure his tongue was blistering. Grabbing a napkin, he spit the egg out and strode over to the replicator. "Milk," he gasped.

"There are 25 varieties of plant-derived milk and 32 varieties of animal-derived milk available," the computer informed him amiably. "Please specify your preference."

"Cow's milk," he said, trying to conceal his desperation. His voice was raspy and thin. "Terran cow's milk, 2% fat content, 6 ounces."

It seemed to take forever for the glass to materialize, but finally he was able to grab it and chug. The burning began to subside at once, and he almost sighed with relief.

At that moment, Lt. Commanders Delaney and Kim walked in. For a moment, Sam felt slightly ridiculous. Chugging milk might be seen as beneath the dignity of a First Officer. Then he realized the glass in his hand was empty, and they couldn't know what it had held. Reassured, he nodded at them. "Good evening."

"Good evening, Commander." Delaney's eyes opened a bit wider, and she glanced at Kim. "I guess we're early."

"You're right on time," Sam said. "Feel free to check out the buffet. Chef has outdone herself."

Kim had an odd expression on his face, but said only, "Thanks. Looks good."

As they started toward the table, Delaney looked back over her shoulder at Sam and raised a finger to her upper lip. Sam touched his own and his finger came away with a visible white film. A milk moustache. He had a milk moustache, just like a kid caught in the cookie jar. Things like this never happened to Will Riker, he thought. Mustering as much decorum as he could, he returned the glass to the replicator, tossed out the remains of his egg and went to find another napkin as quickly as possible.

By the time he had wiped his face, a phalanx of other officers had arrived, including Odyssey's chief engineer, Lt. Homer James, the helm officer, Lt. Korbut, and CMO Alyssa Ogawa. She came over to him immediately.

"Looks good," she said with a smile. "Where's Captain La Forge?"

"In his ready room, talking to HQ. Their timing is always impeccable." He leaned close and said softly, "Stay away from the deviled eggs."

"What's the matter? Too spicy for you?"

"Too spicy for anyone," he protested.

She grinned. "Sam, you think a chile relleno is too spicy for anyone."

"That's a hot pepper!"

"You may be a big, tough commander but your taste buds are wimpy. Don't worry, your secret is safe with me." Alyssa looked at him knowingly. "You grabbed a glass of milk, didn't you?"

He shrugged. "My doctor suggested it."

"I better give you a supply of antacids when we reach the Delta Quadrant. You didn't try any of Ambassador Neelix's dishes at the dedication ceremony. You're going to be miserable."

"Don't try to tell me the food in the Delta Quadrant is dangerous." He rolled his eyes. "Jeez, Alyssa, you sound like all the reporters who couldn't stop fawning on the Voyager crew."

"Well," she said slowly, "it appears that Jenny Delaney and Harry Kim don't have a problem with those eggs."

He followed her gaze and saw that Delaney and Kim, standing with Lt. James, were indeed each holding a small plate with the deviled eggs. To his chagrin, Delaney popped one into her mouth without so much as a blink.

"You know," Alyssa said slowly, "Jenny Delaney reminds me of someone, but I can't quite place it. What do you think?"

"Can't help you." Sam shrugged. "Looks like the Captain is going to be longer than he expected. Time to mingle, Lys. He wants the senior staff to get to know each other."

She smiled broadly. "Then I believe I'll go talk to Lieutenant Commander Kim. He and Delaney are just friends, did you know that? He's completely unattached. Have fun."

Without missing a beat, she walked over to a small group that had developed around Harry Kim, mostly assistant department chiefs who had just arrived. One of them was Jack O'Connell, assistant chief of Security and another Voyager alum. Sam decided to pass on that group for the moment. It wasn't that he had anything against the former Voyagers, but he wasn't up for another conversation rehashing the extraordinarily marvelous adventures of that ship.

He snagged a glass of wine from a tray carried by a circulating waiter as he crossed the room to join Tatya Korbut. Although he'd never met her before this assignment, she was a veteran of the War and at least they would have something in common to talk about.

Korbut acknowledged his presence with a brief nod. "Commander."

"Lieutenant," he returned. "Have you settled in?"

"Quite. I've learned to travel light."

Her words were polite enough, but something about her tone suggested she'd rather be someplace else. Sam looked at her closely. Korbut was only 50 years old, but her prematurely gray hair, cut too short to flatter her angular face, and slight frown added years to her appearance. "We're glad to have you aboard," he said. "You've got an excellent record."

"I'm a good pilot."

"You're more than good," he said, smiling his most charming smile. "You don't get to be an ace against the Jem'Hadar unless you're exceptional."

"I was motivated."

"Weren't we all?" He was feeling increasingly frustrated by her terse responses. "You were at the Battle of Cardassia Prime. So was I."

She regarded him for a moment with unwavering gray eyes. Her face was as expressionless as a Vulcan's. Finally she said, "Forgive me, Commander, but I don't enjoy talking about the War. And since I was loading cargo bays on private freighters while you were in Starfleet Academy, we can't reminisce about the good old days."

His brows shot up. "Are you always this blunt with superior officers?"

Her face pinkened slightly but otherwise she remained unruffled. "Sorry, sir. I meant no offense."

"But -- " he prompted.

After a moment's hesitation, she continued, "But...social functions make me uncomfortable. I have almost nothing in common with anyone in this room and I can't imagine a more artificial way to develop a friendship. Frankly, I would have passed except that it would have been an insult to Captain La Forge."

"I think you're exaggerating. We all have something in common or we wouldn't be here."

Her mouth twisted into the closest thing to a smile he had seen from her yet. "Oh? I'm here because I had nothing left to go back to, once the War was over. Is that why you're here, Commander?"

If he could have pulled his words back, he would have. He knew from her personnel record that she had enlisted in Starfleet during the War, after the Jem'Hadar had destroyed the small space station she and a small group of independent freighters called home. "No," he said quietly. "It's not." Then he smiled. "Do you like spicy food?"

"What?" Korbut looked confused by the sudden change in the direction of the conversation, but rallied at once. "Actually, yes. I do."

Sam sighed. "Then you've got something in common with Dr. Ogawa, and apparently Kim and Delaney as well. Try the deviled eggs. You'll love them."

USS Voyager II, Captain's Ready Room

The heady aroma of Kona coffee filled Kathryn Janeway's senses as she sat at her desk in her new ready room. B'Elanna, bless her heart, had worked for months to refine the replicator's ability to produce a perfect cup in a variety of beans, roasts and styles. So far, it seemed her effort had paid off with complete success.

On the other hand, Janeway was taking no chances. She wasn't returning to the Delta Quadrant without a back-up plan. Voyager II boasted not only an airponics bay, but also a traditional hydroponics bay and an old-fashioned dirt garden -- where a dozen coffee bushes were growing. That, and the coffee roaster Chakotay had picked up at an antiques store, assured a continuous supply of the Divine Brew.

Her lips curled in a contented smile. Her ship was two days into its new mission with no serious glitches or mysterious tetyron beams. Her husband was on board and working on research he felt passionately about. Life was good.

The door chime sounded, interrupting her brief moment of woolgathering. A quick glance at the chrono confirmed that it was exactly 1830 hours, the time of her last scheduled appointment for the day. "Come," she said.

Her Ops Officer entered, took four steps forward and snapped smartly to full attention. "Lieutenant Auraan reporting as ordered."

Janeway studied the young woman and managed to contain a smile. Auraan was very young and very eager, even more than Harry Kim had been so many years ago. "At ease, Lieutenant," she said, and then added for her own amusement, "before you sprain something."

Auraan let her hands fall at her sides, but otherwise failed to visibly relax. Janeway was struck by two things -- first, the woman's youth. She seemed far too young to be a Starfleet officer and far too vulnerable. Not even Harry Kim had been this young, or at least, not the Harry Kim of her memories. The second thing was the woman's exotic appeal. The combination of Troyian and Elasian genes created a being who, if not exactly beautiful by human standards, was nonetheless extremely compelling. The heavy eye make-up wasn't regulation (it was yet another concession Starfleet had granted the government of Troyius in order to lure one of its royal family into the service) but it transformed her eyes into something dramatic and irresistible. Her teal skin -- Auraan would be positively green standing next to an Andorian or Bolian-- was intensified by her dark hair and amazing eyes. With Tom Paris married, and Harry, Hugh Murphy and Jack O'Connell no longer on board, Janeway wondered who would be the first eager suitor for this girl's favors. She was suddenly glad that she could count Chakotay on the 'accounted for' side.

She must have let the silence drag on too long, because Auraan said uncertainly, "You wished to see me, Captain?"

"Yes." Janeway regrouped quickly. "You were a bit late in joining us, Ensign. You haven't had much chance to settle in. How are things going?"

"Fine, Captain. Thank you."

"Have a seat, Lieutenant. This isn't a review." She watched as Auraan took the seat directly in front of the desk. If it were possible to sit at attention, the young woman was doing it. Her back was ramrod straight and her shoulders tense. Janeway smiled reassuringly. "I'm trying to get to know all my new officers. Unfortunately, we didn't have an opportunity to talk before the launch."

Auraan nodded. "The timing of my arrival was unfortunate."

"Have you had a chance to get unpacked yet?" the Captain asked. "We've kept you pretty busy since you came on board."

"Yes. I had little to bring with me."

"Ah. Well, how are you getting along with Delia O'Brien?" Yet another mandate from HQ concerning this officer was that she 'required' a roommate.

Scarcely moving, Auraan replied, "Ensign O'Brien seems amiable and unobtrusive. We should suit nicely."

"It's a little unusual for a member of the senior staff to request a roommate." In fact, it was almost unheard of; privacy was one of the most valued perks of authority on any starship. If anything, Janeway was accustomed to requests for single quarters or cohabitation, not blind pairing.

"Unmarried females of the Troyian royal family are required to have a duenna who, at the execution of a marriage contract, can attest to the chastity of the bride or groom," Auraan said stiffly. "Starfleet would not permit my duenna to accompany me, so this compromise was reached."

Janeway leaned back in her chair. "I see. Does Ensign O'Brien understand her -" she struggled to find the right phrase -"future duties?"

"I haven't informed her. Since I have no intention of marrying, it shouldn't become an issue. However, the only way the Ruler my Uncle would permit me to join Starfleet was on the condition that I appear to observe the Customs."

Auraan hadn't moved, not so much as a twitch of a muscle, nor had her direct gaze wavered. Still, Janeway had the feeling that the young woman was distinctly uncomfortable with the discussion. Deciding her curiosity about Troyian royalty would have to wait, the Captain tried another subject. "I understand you are a musician."

For the first time, Auraan's apparent impassivity cracked. She looked startled. "How did you know that?"

Janeway smiled. This had been yet another special waiver for Troyian royalty. Auraan had been correct when she said she had not brought much on board, yet what she did bring exceeded the weight allowance by some twenty kilos. "You brought a rather large instrument on board. I'm told it's a harp."

"An Elaasian harp," she corrected. "It belonged to the late Dohlman my Great-Grandmother. Traditionally, it is played only in the Inner Chamber of the Royal Household, for members of the family and the courtier's circle."

"Well." Janeway's voice iced over. "That's too bad. My last Operations Officer was also a musician. He was quite generous with his talent."

Auraan's face darkened at least two shades. "My apologies, Captain. I did not mean to sound ... elitist. I sometimes have difficulty explaining the customs of my people. We are rather rigid in our social strictures."

The Captain looked at her curiously. "So I've heard. And yet, you broke the mold by applying for the Exchange Program. May I ask why?"

The young woman considered for a moment, then answered slowly. "I am eighth in line for the throne, Captain. Short of a catastrophic event, there is virtually no chance that I would ever ascend. The daughters of the royal house are rarely permitted to plan their own destiny. If I remained on Troyius, I would be required to resign from the Navy in two more years. At that time, I would be married to secure a political advantage and perhaps permitted to pursue some diplomatic experience. That did not appeal to me."

Janeway smiled. For the first time, she began to feel better about having this young woman foisted upon her. Her instincts told her Auraan was here because of her own ambition and not to fulfill some hidden agenda of the inscrutable Ruler of Troyius. "Thank you for your candor. If you don't mind my asking, how were you able to persuade your uncle to allow you to join Starfleet?"

As the Captain watched, the young woman's lovely face seemed to set into a mask of polite aloofness. It was an expression Janeway had seen before, usually worn by diplomats and government officials whose careers required the appearance of attention even though their minds have escaped the tedious conversation. "I was most eloquent," she said at last.

Janeway didn't need the Micheline Guide to Troyius to understand that she had just encroached on the private preserve of the Royal family, and she couldn't help frowning. It was going to be hard enough to establish diplomatic relations with the Vidiians and other Delta Quadrant species; she didn't need to worry about creating a diplomatic incident with one of her staff. "Ah," she said.

"Thank you, Captain." Aurann rose, apparently thinking that the conference was over.

Annoyed, Janeway glanced at the chronometer and realized that the allotted time for the interview had just expired. Had Auraan been marking time, or did she have an internal clock? "Lieutenant," she said with a nod. The young woman left, every movement managing to be both precise and graceful.

Staring thoughtfully at the door, the Captain wondered briefly if she had made a mistake in agreeing to accept the enigmatic Auraan on this mission. Even if she turned out to be an extraordinary performer, Janeway doubted she would ever fit in with the rest of the crew.

With a short shake of her head, she returned to the launch-related paperwork. She had just enough time to finish it before her "date" with Chakotay. They were planning on a quiet dinner in their cabin -- with the privacy lock engaged.

After all, it was still their honeymoon.

USS Odyssey

0600 hours came way too quickly, Sam Lavelle thought as he yawned widely. Alone in the turbolift, he didn't have to try to stifle it. He shouldn't have stayed so late at the Captain's reception, but once Captain La Forge had arrived to relieve him of hosting duties, he had relaxed and enjoyed himself -- and lost track of time. It had been after 0230 when he finally made it back to his quarters. When the computer woke him up, he couldn't believe it was time to go back on duty.

The 'lift stopped at Deck 6, and Grissom E. "Griz" Chafyn entered. Sam was considered tall, but even he had to look up to the Chief of Security, who exceeded two meters by a fingertip. There was a rumor going around that Griz was part Nausicaan, but Sam knew it wasn't true. Griz was entirely human, but his size and strength gave the story credibility. Even though the lift was more than large enough for them both, Sam shifted a little to give them both more space. "Good morning."

"Morning, Commander." Chafyn's voice always caught Sam by surprise. He expected someone that large to have a booming bass, but Griz was not only soft-spoken, but he always sounded hoarse, as if he had a sore throat. Even after years in Starfleet, he hadn't lost his Jamaican accent. "Quite a party, wasn't it?"

"Yes, the Captain was pleased." And thank God for synthehol, Sam added silently. If his drinks had been real alcohol, he'd still be in his bunk, oblivious. "But it's going to be a long day today."

"It surely is," Griz agreed. "O'Donnell and I were still in the holodeck when we realized Alpha shift was about to begin."

"You never went to bed?"

"Well, you see, Commander Kim and O'Donnell were talking about a program they had back on Voyager, a French pool hall. O'Donnell thought he could take me." Chafyn grinned, white teeth suddenly splitting his dark beard. "It took a while, but he was wrong."

The 'lift reached the Bridge, leaving Sam feeling chagrined as he headed for his station. He wasn't sure if it was because he had missed the match, or because Chafyn had been on his feet for 24 hours yet looked fresher than Sam felt after three hours of sleep. It wasn't that long ago that Sam could stay up all night and still report for duty needing only a shave and a cup of coffee. Was he getting old? What a depressing thought.

To make matters worse, he saw that Harry Kim was already at station, looking crisp and chipper. Way, way too chipper. Score another one for Voyager's finest.

As Sam took his seat, Captain La Forge entered the Bridge from his ready room. "Good morning," he said cheerfully. "I'm looking forward to today's drill. Captain Janeway has wagered a pound of Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee that Voyager's tactical team will perform better than ours."

"Sucker bet," Griz Chafyn said. "Sir."

"I'm counting on it," La Forge said. As he sat, he leaned toward Sam and lowered his voice. "I'm not that much of a coffee lover, but I hear Jamaican Blue Mountain is --"

"Captain," Harry Kim said, his voice conveying a sense of urgency. "We're receiving a message from Starfleet Command. Priority 1."

Sam felt his eyebrows raise in surprise. Priority 1 messages were reserved for crisis situations. What was happening?

"Let's have it, Harry," La Forge said, all traces of humor vanishing.

The holographic communications platform illuminated with the image of Rear Admiral Stenek seated at a desk. Stenek? Sam thought. He's responsible for the Romulan Neutral Zone. Is there a problem with the Romulans?

Behind the platform, the viewscreen shifted from a view of the stars to a split screen, showing the bridges officers on Voyager and Pioneer, who were receiving the message at the same time. Sam wondered if he looked as calm as Commander Tuvok.

Stenek nodded once. "Good. Captains Janeway, La Forge, Merves -- stand by for a change in orders. Pioneer will continue on to Deep Space 10, but Voyager and Odyssey are going to divert to respond to a request for assistance from the Romulan Empire."

Only the fact that Stenek was a Vulcan kept Sam from wondering if it were a joke. Apparently Captain Janeway shared his skepticism. "The Romulans asked for our help?"

The Admiral heard the disbelief in her voice. "A rare event indeed, Captain. Rare enough that the Federation is willing to interrupt your mission."

"What's the problem?" La Forge asked.

"One of their science ships, operating at the extreme edge of the Beta Quadrant, has documented what appears to be a rogue weapon. It has destroyed at least three planets and one space station."

"A planet-killer," Sam said softly, not meaning to speak aloud..

"Were the planets inhabited?" Janeway asked.

"Yes. The Romulans didn't give us specifics, but they estimated that at least two billion people have been killed. If the weapon stays on its current path, it will eventually reach Romulus -- but first, it will encounter more than thirty inhabited planets." Stenek paused, then added, "We are transmitting the data you will need, including the coordinates and the information the Romulans have provided so far."

"Why don't the Romulans take care of it themselves?" Captain Merves asked from Pioneer.

"Two reasons," Stenek replied. "First, their closest ship with sufficient armament would need at least three weeks to get there. As I mentioned, it is on the far side of the Beta Quadrant. More planets could be destroyed by then. Secondly, and I admit this is surmise on my part, the Romulans do not know how to defeat this threat. By asking for our assistance, they can either be saved from the threat, or learn from your failure; either way, they come out ahead."

La Forge shook his head. "Swell. Admiral, are you sure you can trust them? Could this be some elaborate scheme to get their hands on our transwarp technology?"

"We considered that, but the data appears to be genuine. We believe there is a legitimate threat."

On Voyager, Captain Janeway leaned forward in her chair, her expression intense. "Admiral, can you tell us anything more about this weapon?"

"The files we have transmitted contain everything we currently know. However, I can show you a record made by the science ship that is on the scene. Standby."

He gestured to someone unseen. Then the viewscreen shifted and Janeway and Merves disappeared. In their place, a grainy picture of a giant, horizontal cone-shaped entity appeared. As they watched, it raised its vertex, issued first a beam of energy from the tip and then much larger one from its base. A planet disappeared in a massive explosion.

Sam realized he was holding his breath. The poor quality transmission disappeared and Janeway and Merves were returned to the screen. They looked shaken.

Stenek, whose holographic image had remained still during the broadcast, spoke quietly. "Researchers are working now, to see if anything in Starfleet records will be of use to you."

"They can stop looking," Sam said, more loudly than he intended.

La Forge turned to him curiously, and Stenek's eyebrows arched. La Forge said, "What do you mean?"

Taking a breath, Sam rose. "Admiral, tell your researchers to check the logs of the USS Enterprise under James T. Kirk. You'll find he encountered something very similar. And he had to blow up a starship to stop it."

ACT TWO

USS Voyager II, Conference Room

Kathryn Janeway shook off a feeling of slightly tilted déjà vu as she looked around the conference table. How many times had she gathered the senior staff around a similar table in a similar room to discuss a similarly urgent situation during eight years in the Delta Quadrant? And yet, the very familiarity of it made the differences disconcerting. Tuvok was there, of course, but he sat in the place Chakotay had occupied before. Paris sat where Tuvok should be. The Doctor and B'Elanna were just where she expected them, but Harry Kim, Seven and Neelix were missing. Instead, Lt. Ishtak, Lt. Auraan and Ensign Neal Simonian, the new head of Astrometrics, sat stiffly.

It was . . . odd. It was a beginning.

"So much for your honeymoon," Paris said, sotto voce.

She silenced him with a glare, although her involuntary smile kept it a notch or two below the full Death Glare. "Lt. Auraan," she said, "I believe we're ready for the Odyssey crew to join us."

Of all the technological improvements on Voyager II, the enhanced communications systems were among Janeway's favorite. The wall monitor which Auraan activated was considerably larger than its predecessor on the original Voyager. In the blink of an eye, it seemed to be nothing more than a window into the captain's conference room on Odyssey. Captain La Forge sat at the head of the table, flanked by Commander Lavelle and Harry Kim. Janeway had met the other officers briefly, but Jenny Delaney was the only one whose name she confidently remembered.

"Good to see you, Captain," Janeway said to La Forge.

"And you," La Forge responded. "If you don't mind, Captain Janeway, I'd like to begin by asking Commander Lavelle to give an overview."

"Excellent," Janeway said. "That was an impressive display of knowledge with Admiral Stenek, Commander Lavelle. You must be an expert on that era."

Lavelle smiled easily as he rose. "More of a Kirk enthusiast, Captain. He was always one of my heroes." In just two strides, he reached a secondary wall monitor in the Odyssey's conference room. Suddenly the complementary screen on Voyager came to life with a still image of the planet-destroying ship from the logs of the derelict. The picture captured it during its scanning mode, with its tip erect and spherical eye emitting a beam of pale green energy. "This," Lavelle said, "is the image provided by the Romulans, while this," he said and the image changed, "is from the archival file Starfleet sent."

The new image showed a similar cone-shaped entity -- similar, but not identical. For one thing, it was slightly smaller than the first one. For another, its wide end was open, exposing an internal, yellow-white maelstrom. Lavelle continued, "This is the planet killer encountered by the USS Enterprise, under the command of James T. Kirk, in 2267."

"Yes," Lt. Auraan said, sounding impatient. "They destroyed it by flying another starship into it and causing it to self-destruct."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Lavelle said dryly. "As I was saying, both Captain Kirk and then-Commander Spock believed that this planet killer was the result of a war, possibly between factions outside this galaxy. They felt there was a strong likelihood that if one side had developed such a weapon, then the other side had also. In other words, they anticipated that another one would show up eventually. I believe it simply took a bit longer than they anticipated."

"What are we going to do, drive a starship into it?" Paris asked. "Which one -- yours or ours?"

"We can flip a coin later," Lavelle said with a quick grin. "Of course, it won't do much good."

Janeway leaned forward. "Why not?"

At a touch from Lavelle, the screen split, showing the two planet killers side by side. "The hull of the first one was pure neutronium. Kirk realized he had to destroy it from the inside, and simply aimed the Constellation at the opening. Well," he paused thoughtfully, "it was a little more than that. He actually piloted the ship in and set off the warp core breach himself, before transporting out. But the point is, Enterprise didn't have the firepower to put a dent in a pure neutronium hull. And 130-odd years later, we don't, either. And unlike the first one, the base of this planet-killer has a front door -- and it keeps it closed when it's not in use. "

"Have we established that the second entity is also composed of neutronium?" Tuvok asked.

At the Odyssey conference table, Harry Kim leaned forward. "We have to assume it is. Neutronium, or something even more dense. Until we have more data, the information compiled by Enterprise is our baseline."

"Obviously, there are some visible differences," Lavelle continued. "The new entity has at least two features the original didn't -- a scanning beam in its tip, and a bulkhead covering the only point of entry."

"Wait a minute," B'Elanna said. "We don't know for certain that's the only point of entry."

Across space, Lavelle nodded. "True. We won't know until we can get close enough to scan it ourselves. But for now, it's a working assumption based on what we do know about the original machine."

"Machine?" Janeway leaned forward. "Are you certain of that, Commander?"

"Again, Captain," Lavelle said, somewhat ruefully, "it's a working assumption. The Enterprise records indicate that the original was an unmanned, automated device. Based on the similarity in appearance and function, it seems likely. But we don't have enough data yet to be certain."

Janeway looked down the table. "Astrometrics, when can we expect to have some information from long-range scanners?"

Ensign Simonian said, "Ten hours," at exactly the same moment Jenny Delaney said from the Odyssey, "Six hours."

Captain Janeway's eyebrow arched. "Which is it?"

"Six hours, Captain," Jenny Delaney said hurriedly. "Harry -- Commander Kim and I -- believe we can boost power to the scanners while we're in transwarp by diverting power from the impulse drive."

"But," Lt. Auraan said, her brow furrowing, "that is not discussed in the specifications for the Astrometrics Lab."

There was a pause, and then Lavelle continued. "In order to shut this thing down, we have to get it to open its door. And so far, it appears it only opens up after it's confirmed a target."

"Terrific," Paris said. "That's a pretty narrow window of opportunity."

"There's another problem," Lt. Auraan added, and paused long enough for attention to shift to her. "We do not know how close our ships can get to the entity before triggering its scanning mechanism."

On the Odyssey, Geordi La Forge shook his head. "Add it to the list of what we don't know. What do we know?"

"Not much," Lavelle admitted. "We're pretty sure it would take a dozen tri-cobalt bombs exploding simultaneously to make a hole in it large enough for a ship or a probe to enter."

"A detonation of that size would destroy everything for two parsecs," Tuvok said.

"Including us," Paris noted.

La Forge spoke slowly. "All right. We have to get inside the thing. How do we get it to open its door?"

The Doctor leaned forward. "That eye-like structure in the tip -- am I correct that it's a scanner of some kind?"

"Interesting image," La Forge murmured.

"We think so," Harry replied. "And not just a run of the mill scanner, at that. It looks like a coherent tetryon beam."

At both tables, the former crew of Voyager looked stunned. "Mr. Kim," Tuvok said, "are you suggesting the device is somehow linked to the Caretaker?"

"It's possible," Harry said. "We haven't encountered any other species using that technology for scanning. And we do know the Caretaker came from another galaxy. But -- "

"Add it to the list of things we don't know," Janeway said, deliberately echoing La Forge. "Let's focus on the problem at hand. Doctor, were you going somewhere with your question?"

Nodding, the EMH walked over to the monitor with the still images. "The reference to the Caretaker is not out of place. You'll recall that the Caretaker scanned us before pulling Voyager into the Delta Quadrant. This," he said, pointing at the sphere, "is clearly seeking biological life. It passed two uninhabited planets without slowing down, but it targeted the populated world."

"You're saying that it's not just trying to destroy planets," B'Elanna said slowly. "That one-eyed monster is trying to destroy civilizations."

Lt. Ishtak had been silent, but now added, "So all we have to do is wait until it locates another populated world and insert an adequate explosive."

"That isn't possible," Lt. Auraan said quickly. "There wouldn't be time before the machine fired its energy beam."

There was another silence, and then Captain Janeway said, "All right. Eliminate the impossible and figure out what is possible. We'll need that Astrometrics data as soon as-"

She was cut off by a message on the comm system. "Sorry to interrupt, Captain," said the disembodied voice of Ishtak's second from the Bridge, "but Commander Prolak would like to join your meeting."

"Oh?" Janeway tilted her head, caught between annoyance and curiosity. The Romulan observer had beamed over from the Pioneer just before the convoy had separated. She had not spoken to him since Voyager and Odyssey had activated their transwarp drives.

"He says he has information that is relevant to your discussion."

Tuvok leaned closer to her. "The Romulans have got the most data on the machine," he said quietly.

The idea of inviting a Romulan officer to join her staff meeting was anathema to her, but Tuvok was right. They needed everything they could get. "Send him in."

Commander Prolak must have been waiting just outside the conference room, because the doors opened as soon as she gave consent. The Romulan stood at the foot of the table, his eyes sweeping the room. Janeway had no doubt that he had committed every detail to memory. "Captain Janeway. Captain La Forge. My government has authorized the disclosure of additional data from our science ship."

He handed a data chip to Lt. Ishtak, who was the closest to him. Ishtak accepted it, then rose. The Klingon, a good fifteen centimeters taller and at least 45 kilos heavier, glared down at the observer. Prolak took it in, but only turned to Janeway and asked, "May I sit?"

"Please." She indicated the chair Ishtak had just vacated in order to deliver the chip to Auraan. "As you can see, we are joined by Captain La Forge and his staff on the Odyssey."

"The chip contains data gathered by the science ship Sseikea." Prolak seemed as uncomfortable to be at a Federation table as the others were to have him there. "It is now following the planet-killer at a safe distance. When we arrive in the area, it will be able to guide us to the entity's precise location."

"That will not be necessary," Lt. Auraan said. "We are capable of locating the entity without assistance."

"Nonetheless." Prolak kept his eyes fastened on Janeway. "The Sseikea will escort you."

Janeway understood the unspoken message Auraan had missed. The Romulans might have asked for help, but they had no intention of allowing two Federation ships to wander unsupervised through their territory. "Of course."

La Forge leaned forward. "Is there anything on that data chip about the composition of the thing? We are theorizing neutronium, but --"

"I'm sorry, Captain, I have not reviewed the data. My instructions were to bring it to you upon receipt." Prolak glanced up at Ishtak, still hovering behind him. "When do you expect to reach the coordinates?"

"In three days," Paris responded. "Assuming the transwarp drive works as advertised."

"It will," Torres and her counterpart, Lt. James, said simultaneously.

Prolak blinked. "Three days. Remarkable."

"And it isn't much time." Janeway straightened. It was time to end this conference and get to work. "Captain La Forge, if you agree, I think our best course is to try to figure out a way to insert a tri-cobalt charge into the entity without destroying ourselves in the process."

"I think that's our only choice at this point," La Forge said. "Until we know more than we do now."

Janeway stood. "All right, people. We have three days. Let's get to it."

USS Voyager II, Engineering Lab

"This isn't going to work," Auraan said as she studied the simulation parameters. She and Commander Torres were trying to determine ways to destroy the entity from its exterior. After eight tries, though, they had no success and Aurann felt certain that the ninth would fail as well. The data from the Romulans confirmed that the exterior of the weapon was neutronium, and it was axiomatic that neutronium was impervious.

"You know," Torres snapped, "I'm getting awfully tired of hearing you say that."

Auraan stifled a swift retort. She had been working with Commander Torres for several hours without a break, and her muscles were getting stiff, her back sore and her temper frayed. If anyone had used that tone of voice with her back home, several palace guards would have intervened to save her the necessity of a rebuke. But this wasn't home, and Auraan didn't hold the superior rank. "I'm sorry, Commander."

"I don't want your apologies," Torres replied, sounding even more irritated. "I just want something to work. Keep loading those parameters. I think you're right, but we'll try it anyway." Placing a hand on her neck, she tilted her head to one side and walked away from the monitor. "There's something we're missing. It's there, I'm sure of it, but we just aren't seeing it yet."

"I don't know what it could be." It would have felt good to stretch, Auraan thought. Just flex her back a little. But in the presence of a superior officer, even one who was indulging in physical movement, it would be unthinkable. Instead, she maintained correct posture while she worked. "We've utilized all the data from the Starfleet files and the Romulans."

"It's all there, I know. But the pieces are all jumbled. We just have to find the pattern." Torres suddenly smiled. "Sorry. My daughter discovered jigsaw puzzles recently, and there's always a piece that has slipped under the sofa." Then her face hardened again. "Thank goodness we had time to send her and T'Pel to Pioneer before we left the Alpha Quadrant. At least I don't have to worry about her, too."

Auraan wasn't certain she followed the Commander's words, but was even more confused by the abrupt changes in her attitude. One moment Torres was snappish and seemingly angry, the next she was as friendly as if they were peers. It was very odd. In the Troyian Royal Navy, protocols were quite clear on conduct; a superior officer maintained an attitude of polite formality with the juniors. All in all, it made everything easier. Auraan didn't have enough experience in Starfleet to know if Torres was unique or if the other officers would behave similarly. As it was, she had no idea how to reply to the Commander's personal reference.

Fortunately, Torres didn't seem to expect a reply. Suddenly she was all business again. "All right. Where were we? Missing pieces...you know, enough tri-cobalt should blow up anything," she muttered, pacing across the small room. "Even neutronium. Even pure neutronium." She shook her head. "How did they build that thing with neutronium, anyway? It's too dense and inflexible to use in major manufacturing."

"Clearly, they had technology that differs from ours. The simulation is ready, Commander."

Torres stood behind her. "Let's see it."

It didn't take long. The simulation postulated an almost unthinkable amount of tri-cobalt -- fifty bombs with a yield of 100 megatons each. Even neutronium should be vaporized from the intensity of the explosion. But as Auraan and Torres watched the program unfold, planets melted, stars exploded -- but the weapon emerged unscathed.

"Damn," Torres said. "Look at that. We ripped a whole through subspace all the way into fluidic space. Well, that's that. The last thing we need is to get Species 8472 angry again."

"We are agreed, then, that the weapon is not vulnerable to exterior attack?" Auraan tried to conceal her relief that they were finally finished with this futile assignment.

Torres stared at the results on the monitor for a few seconds, and then ran a hand through her hair. "Yeah. Looks like we have to wait for the one-eyed monster to open its mouth. ghuy'."

The last word was apparently a Klingon curse, but Auraan was not conversant with the language. She chose to ignore the breach of decorum. "We should advise the Captain that we should concentrate on tactics related to inserting sufficient explosive power after it has attacked a planet."

To her surprise, Torres took a step back and folded her arms. "You're a cool one, aren't you?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You just condemned thousands, possibly millions, of people to death in half a sentence. Doesn't that bother you?" Torres spoke quietly, sounding more curious than angry.

"It is regrettable, but inevitable." Auraan chose her words carefully, feeling off balance. Royal or not, conversations like this simply did not occur in the Troyian Royal Navy. "I am merely recognizing the facts."

"Right." Torres studied her for a moment longer, then said briskly, "It is also a fact that Captain Janeway isn't going to accept the destruction of another civilization as an acceptable tactic. She's going to want us to come up with another solution. And whatever it is, chances are that thing is going to kill someone. And that, Lieutenant, bothers me. A lot. So, while I go report to the Captain, why don't you apply some of that excellent Troyian education to thinking about what we can do, not what we can't."

She turned on her heel and walked out, leaving Auraan feeling stunned. Of course she was bothered by the thought that they would have to let the monster destroy more people before it could be destroyed itself, but it was completely inappropriate for a junior officer to voice such a thought. Her job was to find the answers to her superiors' questions.

Wasn't it?

Romulan Science Ship Sseikea

"The Federation ships will be here in less than a day." Kelar looked at Danok accusingly. "We should be collecting the data they requested, instead of hanging back like cowards. What will they think of us?"

Did Kelar always whine, or did I just never notice before? Danok wondered. His second in command had been increasingly unhappy since learning that Headquarters had requested help from the Federation, and when he had requested this private conference, he had been so resentful as to border on insubordination. "Frankly, I don't give a fvai's piss if they think we're the biggest cowards since the Klingons at Nirendra III. I am not going to endanger this ship and crew by getting too close to that planet-eater."

Kelar stiffened, and Danok realized he had spoken recklessly. He didn't know his first officer well, but the Subcommander had dropped hints now and again that he had family connections to the Tal Shiar. Exaggeration or not, Danok couldn't afford to have the secret police questioning his capabilities now, so close to retirement. He needed to salvage this. "My words were hasty. But in this instance, I believe caution is necessary to our survival. We will be of little use to the Empire if we are destroyed by that creature."

"And what use will the Empire have for us if we hang back and allow the Lloannen'galae to save us?"

"The Federation ships are faster and have better armament," Danok said patiently. "And they are our allies now. There is no need to speak of them as if they were still an enemy."

"Our allies now, but for how long?" Kelar shook his head. "And when they are our enemies again, it would be to our advantage if they respected our courage in the face of danger. I agree, this ship lacks the capacity to neutralize the creature. But surely we can gather data that will help the Lloann'nar act quickly and be out of our space."

He was trapped, Danok realized. There was no argument he could make which would not sound like cowardice and a betrayal of his Oath. And perhaps there was an element of truth to it: he was afraid of that thing. From the instant he had first set eyes on it, he had recognized the harbinger of his doom.

He thought of his farm on ch'Havran, the sanctuary for his retirement, where he could raise hlai and forget about the Jem'Hadar, the Klingons, and the Federation. He thought about his niece, or more precisely, the wonderful country meals she had promised to fix for him every day. Then he thought about Liva and the others at the space station, and about Distor Stann, the lone survivor of his world.

"You're right," he finally said. "The faster this thing is eliminated, the faster we can go home. What is it the Feds want to know?"

Kelar looked relieved and eager. "Many things. They are asking for scans of the entire hull. They want to know how many life forms will attract it, how much time elapses between the scanning beam and the opening of the weapon port, and how much time between the opening of the port and the firing of the energy beam."

"Good questions," Danok said ruefully. "Any suggestions on how we get answers and yet still be here to convey them?"

"As a matter of fact, yes."

USS Voyager -- Captain's Quarters

Kathryn studied the PADD as she walked down the corridor, taking in Tuvok's summary of the various departmental reports. Everyone had reached the same conclusion -- there was no viable means of destroying the planet-killer from the exterior. They were going to have to detonate an explosion the equivalent of a warp core breach inside the thing.

Which meant someone was going to have to die. Their only opportunity to reach the interior would come immediately after the weapon fired.

As she entered her quarters, the smell of warm bread made her look up in surprise. The dinner table was set with the good china and candles. "Oh, no," she said to herself. In the rush of the day, she'd forgotten that she and Chakotay had planned a dinner together at 1800. A quick glance at a chronometer confirmed she was 90 minutes late.

"Well, hello." Chakotay came from the bedroom.

"I'm so sorry," she said, meaning it. "I completely lost track of time."

"I figured something might have distracted you." He withdrew two chilled glasses from the small cooler near the replicator. "Synthehol. Unless you don't have to go back to work later."

Relieved that he wasn't upset, she took the glass gratefully. "Good call." She took a sip and then sat on the sofa.

He joined her. "What's happening, Kathryn? I know we've separated from the Pioneer and we're jumped to transwarp, but why?"

"I thought the civilians were notified," she said with a frown.

He smiled. "We were notified of the bare facts, I think, but nothing more. Lt. Auraan seems to be a stickler for the rule book."

The rule book. Technically, she probably shouldn't be discussing any of this with a civilian. On the other hand, Chakotay was not only her husband, but also her long time advisor. Rules could be bent. "Believe it or not, we're heading into Romulan space. They've asked for our help."

"The Romulans? Asked the Federation for help?" His initial disbelief turned solemn. "It must be bad."

She nodded, and quickly described the planet-killer. "The closest Romulan warship is months away, but with transwarp, we can be there in 36 hours. I just wish I knew what we're going to do once we get there."

He said nothing for a moment, then leaned back. "You're going to need bait."

"What?"

"You're going to need bait. Enough people to attract its attention and get it to attack."

"No. That's not acceptable." She set her glass down, torn between amazement that he had grasped the problem so quickly and frustration with his conclusion. "This thing has killed enough people already. There's got to be another way."

"And I hope you find it. But if you don't -- Kathryn, you've got two dozen civilians on board. I'm sure we'd all volunteer to help." His words came more quickly, rushing with his train of thought. "All we'd have to do is go sit on a planetoid for a while. The thing would spot us, scan us, and start to destroy us -- but you'd be there to intervene."

He was serious. She knew he meant every word. "Chakotay," she began, but a sudden surge of emotion choked her. She reached for his hand and clasped it. "I appreciate the offer. But even if it comes to that, I won't put civilians in harm's way. You know that."

"Volunteers, not civilians."

"Civilians." She repeated the word firmly and shook her head. "I know you want to be part of things, but this is a Starfleet matter. No matter how much I love you, I can't pretend you're still my first officer."

After a moment, the tension in his shoulders eased, and he smiled ruefully. "This is harder than I expected."

"What is?"

"Being on board but not part of the crew. I guess Starfleet is ingrained in me more deeply than I realized."

She smiled. "I know what you mean. Tuvok is doing a fine job, but this morning at the staff meeting, I kept looking for you. It's very odd."

"I feel..." He hesitated, seeming to search for the right word, then finished, "Superfluous. No. Impotent."

"Not that I've noticed," she teased, but the joke fell flat and she became serous again. "You shouldn't. You have a tremendous contribution to make once we get to the Delta Quadrant. The work you'll do with the Boirii and the Vidiians is important.

He nodded. "You're right. But as much as I enjoy what I'm doing, it's dawning on me that it was lot more fun to be part of the action."

"Have you forgotten what's in between? The endless reports, the second-guessing admirals, the petty squabbles between the crew -"

Chakotay raised a hand to stop her. "And the waiting. There's always lots of waiting. I used to be better at it."

"The best," she agreed quietly. "Look how long you waited for me."

For the first time in the conversation, his expression cleared and his smile reached his eyes. With a quick squeeze of her hand, he stood and pulled her up and into his arms for a soft kiss. "Worth every long, agonizing minute," he said. "I just want to help you, Kathryn. I don't want to make it more difficult."

"I know."

"So. Do you have time for dinner?"

"If the invitation is still open, yes, sir." She slipped an arm around his waist as they walked toward the table. "Come to think of it, there is something you can do to help me."

"Oh?"

"Keep Commander Prolak occupied." As he went through the formality of pulling her chair out for her, she sat. "Security's keeping him away from sensitive areas, but I'd feel better if I knew he had something to focus on besides Voyager."

"Consider it done." He retrieved their wine glasses from the coffee table and bent slightly as she took hers. Touching the rims of the two glasses, he said, "Here's to a memorable honeymoon."

Romulan Science Ship Sseikea

"Shuttle teams report ready," Kelar said. The satisfaction in his voice was unmistakable.

"Stand by." Everything was set for the test to proceed, everything except Danok's stomach. It roiled in warning, telling him forcefully that this plan was foolhardy and an invitation to disaster. And he knew that was true. He also knew there was no other way to determine the number of life forms needed to attract the weapon. The messages from the Lloannen'galae ships had been quite emphatic on the need for that data.

They knew the number was somewhere between one, since the weapon had ignored Distor Stann in his small craft, and fifteen, the number of people who died on the station. The plan, therefore, was simple: dispatch a number of shuttles loaded with increasing numbers of crew until one of them caught the weapon's attention. At least one shuttle crew would likely die in the service of the Empire, but their sacrifice would be recognized and honored.

Kelar was looking at him, impatience growing on his face. "Commander?"

The alien weapon was on his console screen, sliding benignly through space. It was almost beautiful in this state. A chill raced through him as he studied it. The shadow of death, he thought. "Kelar," he said suddenly, "is our visitor's ship functional?"

"Yes," Kelar said, frowning. "Repairs are complete. The pilot is in the shuttle bay now, testing the systems."

"Good. I want Distor Stann to launch and observe from a distance of 5 million kilometers."

The first officer's eyebrows arched in surprise. "Is that wise? The medic reports he is in a somewhat fragile emotional state."

"Obey me." Danok couldn't explain his impulse. He simply felt that the hapless pilot would be safer at a distance.

Silence held on the Bridge for nearly two minutes, until Kelar said, "The ship has been launched."

"Very well." Danok steeled himself, as he had done so often when facing the Jem'Hadar. "Begin. Let's see what it takes to interest this one-eyed monster."

USS Odyssey, Officers Mess, 0515 Hours

Sam Lavelle gulped down his coffee and poured another cup. It had been another long night, following a long night, and he needed the caffeine more than usual. He thought, rather glumly, that it was just another reminder that he was no longer the young lieutenant who could play cards all night and be bright-eyed for his entire shift.

"May I join you?"

He looked up and saw Harry Kim standing by the table, holding a tray. There were plenty of empty tables, so Kim clearly had sought him out. They had worked well into the ship's night, finally calling it quits at 0300. Unlike yesterday, Kim had the grace to look a little worn this morning, Sam thought, and gestured toward the empty chair opposite. "Have a seat."

"I've been thinking," Kim said without prelude, "about the Plan."

Sam heard the capital letter -- the Plan, the working tactic that they had come up with after the senior staffs on Voyager and Odyssey finally agreed that an external attack on the planet-killer would be fruitless. From Kim's tone of voice, it was clear that he and Sam held the same opinion of it. "The Plan sucks."

The crude assessment drew a smile from Kim. "I wouldn't put it quite so bluntly, but it seems to be a last resort."

The Plan called for volunteers -- fifteen, if they couldn't get more refined information from the Romulan science ship -- to sit on an otherwise uninhabited planet and wait for the planet-killer to mosey by and destroy them. Voyager or Odyssey would be near enough to lob a sufficient number of tri-cobalt devices into the thing's maw once it opened, and hope it could get out of the way quickly enough to avoid damage from the explosion.

"Have you thought of something else?" Sam asked.

"Maybe. Are you familiar with The Odyssey? The ancient epic, I mean, not the ship."

"In general terms." Where was this leading?

"Yeah, most people are. Do you remember what happened when Odysseus was captured by the Cyclops?"

Sam had to reach back into his memory. He had taken the minimally acceptable number of literature classes at the Academy, preferring to focus on more practical courses. "Uh -- didn't he get the Cyclops drunk?"

"Yes, and then he shoved a red-hot log into the monster's eye and blinded him." Kim grinned at him as he forked a bite of egg with a flourish. "We've been so focused on how Kirk destroyed his planet-killer, we forgot to look at other options. If we blind that one-eyed monster, we'll neutralize it before it can activate its weapon."

"Blind it? Blind it?" Sam stared at him, feeling stunned. "That's bloody brilliant, Kim. But how do we do it?"

"I was thinking about some kind of feedback overload, maybe reflect the scanning beam back to the source."

"Sounds complicated. Maybe the eye is vulnerable to attack when its open, and we can just hit it with tri-cobalt." Excitement rose in him. "A couple of shuttles might be all we need -- that way, we only put a few people at risk."

In the corner of his eye, Sam was suddenly aware of some motion occurring behind him, to his left. He turned his head, and realized Drew Powell, carrying a tray of food, had caught his foot in the leg of Sam's chair and was starting to fall.

Time seemed to slow down as Sam reached out and caught his godson by the waist. Alyssa Ogawa stood behind her son, her face frozen in unhappy surprise and helplessness. Then Kim was on his feet, catching the tray of food just as Drew lost his grip on it.

With a funny pop, time snapped back into shape. Sam, certain Drew was stabilized, quickly let go of the boy. Judging by the stiffness of his shoulders and flush to his cheeks, Drew was mortified by his clumsiness and preparing for more bruises to his dignity in the form of either teasing or worse, pity.

"Hey, Drew," Kim said, as if nothing had happened. He set the tray down next to his. "Glad you could join us. Pull up a chair. Good morning, Doctor."

Drew hesitated for perhaps half a second, then sat down beside Kim. Even though his eyes were hidden behind the VISOR, Sam could tell from the boy's tentative movements that he was still expecting some comment on the near fall. "What's that, oatmeal?" Sam asked him as he shifted to make room for Alyssa. "Yuck."

"Hey, with cinnamon and raisins, it's not bad." Kim forked up another bite of egg.

"Then why aren't you eating it?" Drew asked boldly.

"Got me there." Kim grinned at him. "I'm an egg man myself. Too many years of leola root porridge."

To his relief, Sam realized Kim wasn't going to say anything one way or the other about the mishap. Drew had become very self-conscious about his physical condition and would have preferred to eat in the privacy of his quarters, but his counselor had recommended he take at least one meal a day in a communal setting. He and Alyssa had argued about it, compromising on breakfast, which was usually the least-attended meal. All it would take to send him back into his shell would be one humiliation.

"We're going to have to postpone our kal-toh lesson," Kim went on. "Looks like we're going to be working late again."

"That's okay," Drew said. "I know you're busy."

"Kal-toh?" Sam repeated. "What's that?"

Before Kim could answer, Drew did. "It's this totally deltoid Vulcan game, Sam. You have to play around with spatial geometry until you find the hidden shape. You should see how it looks through my VISOR."

"Totally deltoid?" Sam repeated, wondering if the game somehow built up muscles.

Drew voice was the equivalent of eyes rolling, all adolescent superiority impatience. "You know. Radically intense."

Sam must still have looked confused, because Alyssa added smugly, "It's really cool. Like the Delta Quadrant."

"Ah." As irritating as it was to learn the Delta Quadrant had even slipped into slang, Sam couldn't remember the last time he'd heard that much enthusiasm from Drew. "Good."

"Whenever you have time, Harry, it will be fine." Alyssa smiled across the table at him. There was just a touch too much admiration in her expression for Sam's comfort. He wasn't jealous, of course. He just didn't want Alyssa or Drew to get hurt.

"I hate to eat and run," Sam said, standing, "but we need to get back to work. We've got some new ideas to test."

Kim gulped down some coffee and rose. "See you later."

As the two men walked toward the tray disposal, Sam said, "Thanks for the way you handled that. Drew's my godson, and I take a special interest in him."

"You're lucky," Kim said levelly. He met Sam's eyes as if returning a challenge. "My goddaughter's on Voyager. I don't get to see her as often as I'd like."

There was a dig in there somewhere, Sam was certain, but it was delivered so skillfully that he couldn't quite place it. He chucked his tray onto the return and said, "So. Tell me more about blinding the monster. What was that about feedback?"

Beta Quadrant

It glided through space, its sensors quivering from the odor of biological life. The levels were intriguing but on investigation, too slight to be of interest. The Purpose was not concerned with small-scale lifeforms. The Purpose sought new worlds, new civilizations. New threats to be eliminated.

A sensor twitched. The reading was stronger than the other recent ones. Density indicated the potential for communal biological life. A detailed scan was required.

The scanner activated. There were numerous small craft hovering nearby, none of sufficient interest -- except one. Targeting set. Activate beam. Eliminate. The Purpose is fulfilled.

But the sensors were not stilled. They were insistent that a large concentration was nearby. Activate scanner. Rotate.

There it was. A larger craft, with an ample concentration.

Romulan Science Ship Sseikea

Danok did not move as the weapon scanned the three shuttles deployed around it. One by one it passed over them until it reached the one with twelve people on board, the most they had sent out. The scanning beamed stopped and held, long enough for Danok to realize he was holding his breath. Then the white beam stopped and the flat front of the cone irised open.

"Get out of the way," Danok said softly, speaking to the remaining shuttles. As if they heard him, they began to back away rapidly. In the time it took to process that, it was too late. A fist of energy erupted from the cone and the targeted shuttle exploded, sending debris in all directions. Then the massive flare retracted and the cone opened efficiently and quickly sucked it all in.

Danok closed his eyes. He was not a particularly religious man but he bid the twelve souls on the shuttle farewell and easy journey to Vor-ta-Vor.

"Shall I recall the remaining shuttles?" Kelar asked quietly. Everything was quiet on the Bridge.

Nodding slowly, Danok said, "Yes, get them back-" He broke off as he realized the tail of the cone had not returned to its resting state. It was still erect, and the scanning beam was active again -- and it was swiveling toward Sseikea.

"Belay that," he said, rising to his feet. He had known it would come to this, known it since the moment he had first seen the primitive recording from the Keaynn ship. His heart began to pound so forcefully he thought it might burst, and he forgot to breathe.

Transfixed, he watched as the eye kept twisting until beam passed through the hull and engulfed the Bridge in a blinding glare. Danok threw his arm up to protect his eyes, but the light shocked him into action. "Kelar! Warp 3! Get us out of here!"

"Where?" Kelar shouted.

"Anywhere!" Danok took one long stride to reach the pilot's console. "Anywh-"

The light dimmed, then vanished. Danok touched the control, and felt the warp engines stir. Hope soared for a moment. Perhaps they would escape this doom after all -

His skin suddenly tingled with an odd sensation, and knew his hope was futile. His premonition had been correct after all.

Ah well, he thought. I probably would have been bored in retirement.

Then there was nothing.

ACT THREE

USS Voyager II -- Bridge

::Dropping out of transwarp ... now,:: Torres reported from Engineering.

Kathryn Janeway didn't move, except to tighten her grip on the command chair. It was probably an unnecessary precaution, but until they had a little more experience with transwarp, she decided to be cautious. Every so often she remembered the forced landing on New Hope.

A quick glance to her left confirmed that Tuvok was doing the same.

The viewscreen adjusted its focus, the colorful smears of light that marked transwarp resolving in the distinct shapes of normal space. The only thing was, there were far fewer shapes than Janeway expected to see. "Lt. Auraan," she asked, frowning, "are you certain these are the correct coordinates?"

"Yes, Captain." The young woman touched some controls, then looked up. "The Odyssey has emerged 750,000 kilometers portside, but there is no sign of the Romulan ship. I'm extending scanner range."

Janeway tensed. "Could they have moved on without telling us?"

"Possibly," Tuvok replied. "If they felt it necessary to withdraw for safety, or if they are following the planet-killer."

"No, sir." Auraan looked up. "I've found the planet-killer. It's about half a parsec from here. There's no sign of anything large enough to be the Romulan ship." She paused, then added, "There is one small craft hovering a million kilometers aft."

"A shuttle?" Paris asked.

Auraan shook her head. "Too small. And its engine signature is odd. But it does have one life form aboard." She looked up. "Not Romulan."

"Captain La Forge is hailing," Ishtak said. "Standard image."

With a gesture, Janeway signaled acceptance of the call. La Forge wasn't trying to use the new holographic comm system, so the viewscreen handled the message. "Something's wrong," he said without preamble.

She smiled. "I have to agree. Our sensors have picked up a small craft."

La Forge glanced offscreen, and then nodded. "We see it too. And the Cyclops."

"Cyclops?" she repeated.

"Can you think of a better name for a one-eyed monster?"

She sensed Harry Kim's influence at work and smiled ruefully. "No, that sounds right. I suggest we keep an eye on it for the time being, but until we know more we shouldn't approach it too closely."

"Agreed."

"Captain," Ishtak said suddenly, "we're being hailed. It's the small ship. Audio only."

Surprised that there was no image, Janeway shrugged. "Let's hear it."

::Hello?:: a male voice said. ::Can you hear me? Can anyone hear me?:: The man was tentative, almost fearful.

"We hear you," Janeway said. "I'm Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation starship Voyager. Do you need help?"

::Help?:: The man laughed, a sound that was edged with hysteria. ::Yes, I need help. We all need help. That thing eats ships. It eats planets.::

She leaned forward, noting that La Forge mirrored her action on the screen. "You've seen the planet-killer?"

::Oh, yeah.:: There was unmistakable bitterness in his voice. ::I've seen it.::

"We were supposed to meet a Romulan ship," Tuvok said. "Do you know what happened to it?"

::It was eaten. The thing -- the planet-killer -- blew it up. It was horrible. The other shuttles were caught in the explosion. Then it ate up all the pieces.:: He swallowed audibly. ::They're all gone, just like my planet. Danok, the medic, the others. All gone.::

With a start, Janeway realized that she must be talking with the pilot of the derelict ship the Romulans had reported finding. They hadn't said much about him, except that he had witnessed the destruction of his own world. "We'll bring you aboard," she said gently. After a quick signal to Ishtak to mute the audio, she turned to Tuvok. "You and the Doctor meet him in the transporter room and take him to Sickbay."

She gestured for the mute to be lifted as Tuvok left the Bridge. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

::Oh. I'm, uh, Distor Stann. Pilot of the Seeker Ten::

"Stand by for transport, Pilot Stann."

::Huh? What does that -- Hey! What's hap-::

The transmission ended with the hum of the transporter beam. Janeway turned back to La Forge. "Captain, why don't you send a team over. We'll retrieve the ship and interview the pilot as soon as possible."

La Forge nodded. "We'll be there in ten minutes."

USS Voyager -- Deck 5

"Blind the Cyclops?" Kathryn Janeway repeated, and again, "Blind it?" Without warning, she stopped in mid-stride and faced Geordi La Forge with a grin. "That's brilliant. And I'll bet a month's replicator rations that Harry Kim thought of it."

"Good thing I don't need to worry about rations," La Forge said easily. "You'd win. Mr. Kim is definitely living up to his billing."

She began walking again, and he matched her pace. "Never doubted it. How far have you gotten with this idea?"

"My engineer has a preliminary design on a feedback net, although there are still a few glitches. If we can get the right e-m frequency, he thinks it will overload the scanning beam. He's with your engineer now."

"Good." As they reached the entrance to Sickbay, Kathryn stopped again. "How are we going to get it to open its eye without risking any more lives?"

Geordi's smile became lopsided. "That's one of those glitches I mentioned."

They walked into Sickbay together. The alien pilot was sitting up on a biobed, shivering visibly. His four arms, crinkly nose and gray-toned skin were the most obvious distinguishing features of his species, along with his slightness. There was something insubstantial about him, as if he might blow away in a strong wind. She wondered if this was a natural trait for his species or a result of the hardships he had encountered in recent weeks.

The Doctor looked up as she and La Forge approached. "Ah," he said, "Here's the Captain. Perhaps she can reassure you more than I've been able to." He lowered his voice as he stepped aside. "I haven't been able to get him to talk to me."

"Hello, Mr. Stann," she said. "I'm Captain Kathryn Janeway, and this is Captain Geordi La Forge. You're on my ship, Voyager. Captain La Forge's ship, Odyssey, is nearby. You're quite safe with us."

Stann looked from her to La Forge and back again, his eyes growing larger and darker each second. "Huh -- how did I get here? What did you do to me?"

"It's called a transporter beam. I'm sorry, I didn't realize you weren't familiar with it, or I'd have explained it to you," she said.

Geordi added, "It converts matter to energy, relocates the energy stream and then reverts back to the original matter."

"Oh." Distor Stann received this information without visible reaction, although his shivering began to subside.

"Mister Stann," Kathryn began, but was interrupted.

"Just 'Stann.' Or 'Pilot.' I haven't earned an honorific yet." He made a sound like a swallowed sob. "Guess I never will now."

"Stann," she said gently, "We know you've been through a lot lately. But we need to know what happened to the Romulan ship."

"They were nice to me." His gaze shifted away from her. "That ship was huge, but this one is bigger, isn't it?"

He was avoiding a traumatic memory, she realized, and she wished she didn't have to push. "Yes. But what happened to it, Stann?"

Stann turned his eyes, now so dark they were black, back to her. "The monster ate it. It ate all of them."

"How did it happen?" she pressed.

He began to shiver again, worse than before. "Commander Danok said they needed to find something out for the Federations who were coming. I guess that's you. He said they needed to know how many life forms would catch the monster's attention. So he chased it down and sent shuttles out to get in its way. He sent me out, too, to watch, but he told me to hang back farther. I think he had a premonition about what was going to happen."

Kathryn's stomach sank. The Romulan ship was destroyed while conducting an experiment for them, for her and her crew? In the corner of her eye, she could see that Geordi felt as badly as she did. Save it for later, she told herself. "And what did happen?"

The alien looked away again, fixing his eyes on something far away. "The shuttles lined up in front of it, like they were an honor guard at a wedding. The monster didn't seem to notice them at first, but then all of a sudden it used its green light on one of them. I heard Danok call for the other shuttles to return to the ship. The green light lasted four and a half corcals and then a flame, a flare, I don't know what to call it, came out from the mouth of the thing, and the shuttle exploded. I thought it would eat the debris, like it did with my planet, but instead, it turned around so it was facing the Sseikea- the big ship. In just 28.8 corcals, the green light went out and that same flare came out of its mouth, and the ship exploded. The shuttles were so close that they exploded, too." He swallowed, his throat constricting visibly. "Then it just swallowed up all the debris."

Kathryn closed her eyes, marking a moment of silent tribute to the Romulan ship and crew.

"It never even noticed me," Stann went on. He sounded more puzzled than relieved. "Not the first time, not this time. I wonder why?"

"Probably because you were alone," Geordi said quietly. "We think it ignores solitary life forms."

"Life forms." Stann's mouth twisted oddly. "Is life so diverse, then, that it comes in forms?"

Kathryn smiled. "Oh, yes. Isn't that what you expected to find?"

"No. We thought we were the only intelligent life in the universe. We thought there might be some habitable planets we could colonize, but nothing more." He shook his head.

"Do you know how many people were in the shuttle that caused the Cyclops -- the monster -- to use the white light?" Geordi asked.

"Twelve. I heard Danok say so." He blinked. "Is that its name? Cyclops?"

"We don't know its real name," Kathryn explained. "We call it that after an ancient myth about a one-eyed giant."

"Oh." He looked at her with a gleam in his eye. "Did someone kill the giant?"

"No, but the hero managed to blind him and render him harmless."

"Can you?"

Geordi answered. "We think so, especially with the data we retrieve from your ship. But I have one more question for you, Stann. You said the scan -- the green light -- lasted 28.8 corcals."

"That's correct."

"What is a corcal? Our translator doesn't recognize the word."

Before Stann answered, his eyes bugged out and he began to gasp, raising one hand to point. Turning to see what he was staring at, Kathryn realized that her Chief of Security, Lt. Ishtak, had just come in. The sight of the tall, burly Klingon was apparently overwhelming for alien.

"Captain Janeway, Captain La Forge," Ishtak said in his rumbling bass voice. Then he turned to the Doctor and lifted his left hand, displaying a deep cut with fuchsia blood spurting out. "I require assistance."

Kathryn jumped forward in time to catch Stann as he pitched forward in a dead faint.

USS Voyager -- Shuttle Bay 2

Ensign Delia O'Brien shifted uncomfortably in the pilot's seat of the Seeker Ten. The ship was even smaller than Cochrane's Phoenix, which she had seen often at the Starfleet Museum. There was just enough room in the vertically oriented cylinder for one person to sit, as long as that person didn't try to move. The main controls were all laid out to be within reach of the pilot, but heaven help him if he needed access to any of the secondary functions. Sitting in this seat required a complete lack of claustrophobia.

Good thing you're not claustrophobic, Delia, she told herself. After all, engineers often have to work in tight spaces, like jefferies tubes and conduits. But the Seeker Ten was smaller than any tube she'd ever been in, and it was beginning to shrink. At least, it felt like that.

Commander Torres would be calling any moment to check on her progress, Delia thought, looking down at the small data converter resting on her knees. The Seeker Ten's equipment was so out of date that she had been forced to search the database for suggestions on how to create an interface. As a result, the converter rested on her knees, joined to a port on the console by a fiber optic cable. This type of cabling hadn't been common for over two hundred years, and she had never worked with it before. It had taken forever to replicate what she needed and figure out the connections, and she knew everyone was waiting for the data the ship held. They wouldn't be interested in the fact that she had done all this in a space not much larger than a torpedo tube while the walls were closing in...

She tried to focus her mind on other things, like her new roommate. She wasn't quite sure what to make of Auraan. The lieutenant was impeccably courteous but aloof, and so far hadn't responded to any of Delia's attempts to get to know her. It was as if she wanted to pretend Delia wasn't really there. But that couldn't be the case, or she wouldn't have requested a roommate. And that harp. It was huge, taking up an entire corner of the main cabin, but so far Auraan hadn't touched it. At least, not when Delia was home.

The light on the converter changed from green to yellow, signaling a slow down in the data stream. Delia reached down for the tricorder resting beside her foot.

::How's it coming, O'Brien?:: The impatient voice of Commander Torres interrupted her thoughts.

"Uh, got a glitch here, Commander," Delia said, studying the tricorder. "Give me a minute."

Power was building up in the Seeker Ten's computer core, but she couldn't tell why. She tried slowing the speed of the data stream, but it didn't help. She toggled cable, testing the connection, but again there was no change. The power was building inexorably.

The status signal on the converter box turned red and began to blink. She didn't need the tricorder to know that was not good. "Okay, that's it," she said, and yanked the cable out of the primitive computer. Shoving the handle of the converter box between her teeth, she scrambled up and out of the pilot's seat.

The computer console sparked and then erupted in flame as she hoisted herself out the hatch.

USS Voyager -- Engineering

"It's not enough," Lt. Homer James said.

"It has to be." B'Elanna Torres glared at the monitor, as if she could change the data there by force of will. The records of the Seeker Ten ended abruptly before the Cyclops used its scanning ray on the Romulan shuttle. "That's all the data we're going to get."

James shook his head, causing a lock of rust-colored hair to fall across his forehead. "If we're going to create a feedback overload, we need to know the exact frequencies we're dealing with. And we need to know how much time we have. It's not there."

"Do we?" Torres looked up him, her mind racing. "Do we really need the exact frequency?"

"Of course we do." He looked surprised.

"It would be best if we did, yes." She nodded, warming to her idea. "But what if we program the shuttles to emit a coordinated modulating range? That sticks when it senses feedback?"

James considered for a moment. "Take too long," he finally said. "And besides, we don't know what range to use."

"We know it's a tetryon beam," she countered. "And we know it's in the green band. We can figure out a range."

Some of the color left his face, leaving his freckles standing out in sharp relief. To B'Elanna's eye, he suddenly looked very young. "Are you willing to risk the lives of sixteen people on nothing more than a guess?"

Tom will be one of them. The thought made both her stomachs tighten, but she forced herself to ignore it. "It's an alternative we have to develop. If we can't blind this thing, we have to destroy it -- and that means risking a lot more than sixteen people."

Odyssey's chief engineer looked again at the monitor. "I never expected this part. I thought all the big decisions would be made on the Bridge and I could just worry about the engines."

"A lot of the time, that's true." B'Elanna couldn't help but empathize with him. He was young for his position, barely out of the Academy, but Captain La Forge had been impressed by his expertise. She remembered all too well what it felt like to be in charge and realize that more than just the condition of engine parts depended on her decisions. "But this isn't one of them. And it's not a time we can play it safe."

He smiled wanly at her. "No, I guess not. All right, even if we extrapolate a range, we still don't know how much time we have."

"Then we make our best guess on that, too," she said. "That's why we're here, Homer. Because we guess better than almost anyone else."

USS Voyager -- First Officer's Office

Sam Lavelle paced, keeping to an invisible elliptical path on the floor. "All right. Let me restate the problem. We can create an energy hood to throw over the Cyclops' eye, but it won't do any good unless the eye is open."

Seated behind his desk, Tuvok nodded. "Colorful but correct."

"The eye opens to scan specific targets," Sam continued. "According to our guest in Sickbay, it doesn't scan everything it comes across."

"No, it seems to reserve the scan for a threshold number of life forms."

"And that threshold seems to be twelve." Sam stopped suddenly and looked up. "Wait a minute. How does it know the threshold has been met?"

"Interesting question." Tuvok considered for a moment. "It must have some kind of sensor or other form of scanner that allows it to evaluate targets."

"It passed on our solo pilot and the Romulan shuttles with two and three people. But it took a ship full of Romulans, a space station full of Romulans, and a couple of planets with different species of humanoids." He cocked his head. "Why those planets? Why not others? There are half a dozen L-class and K-class worlds between the location of the first known attack and here. There's plenty of life on them."

"Yes, but it is either plant life or silicon based rather then carbon based." Tuvok looked at him. "It seems logical to conclude the sensors seek out carbon-based animal life."

"And the scanner is more refined and can determine whether the target meets specifications for attack." Sam grinned. "You know what that means? We don't have to use any more people as bait."

He strode over to the desk and swung the monitor around. In a few seconds, he brought up a molecular chart. "Biomatter. All we need to do is dangle enough biomatter to look like twelve people in front of it. That will trip the scanner."

Tuvok turned the monitor slightly to study it. "It is theoretically possible, but we are missing a great deal of data."

"I know, but -- "

"We are only postulating the existence of sensors, and we have no idea what their sensitivity may be. And we cannot assume it is seeking only animal life. We don't know enough of its history."

"It doesn't matter. Maybe it has a bigger appetite, but one thing we do know for certain is that it likes meat." Sam began pacing again. "It's another Kirk trick, you know. He used biomatter on Tycho IV to lure a man-eating cloud out of hiding."

Tuvok's eyebrow arched. "Man-eating clouds may be less sophisticated than the planet-killer. The biomatter may not work. And if it does, it may not work for long. Or it may work too well and the scanner could switch to weapons mode before we disable it."

"Time," Sam said in frustration. "We really need to know how much time we have."

USS Voyager -- Sickbay

"He has the most accurate sense of time I've ever encountered in a purely biological being," the Doctor told Janeway and La Forge. "It's as precise as the ship's computer."

Janeway looked through the clear walls of the CMO's office at Distor Stann. He was conscious again, but still on a biobed. Dr. Brown and Chakotay were talking with him quietly. The alien seemed to have recovered his composure after the panic caused by his first view of a Klingon. At least, he was no longer quivering visibly and his eyes had returned to normal size.

"You're certain of that?" La Forge asked urgently.

"Quite. His internal clock is consistent, reliable and accurate." The Doctor handed him a PADD. "See for yourself. Here are the tests I conducted. And by the way, a corcal is exactly 1.25 seconds. It's the base unit of their time measurement system. Everything else is either a fraction of a corcal or a multiplier of a corcal. For instance, a dorcal -"

"Thank you, Doctor," Janeway interrupted. "This is excellent work."

La Forge added, "It's what we've been missing. Now we know how long we have before the weapon activates, and how long before the base opens."

The Doctor smiled. "Glad I could contribute."

"I think it's time we assembled the team," La Forge said.

Janeway nodded. "We'll use my dining room. It'll be less crowded than the conference room." With a nod to the Doctor, she turned and started to follow La Forge out of Sickbay. After a couple of steps, though, she detoured to the biobed. Dr. Brown quickly moved aside to give her room.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Better. A little embarrassed." Stann shrugged his thin shoulders. "That wasn't very heroic behavior."

"Nonsense. The Doctor says he realizes now that your blood pressure was climbing to critical levels. We should have recognized that you were in difficulty. Besides, a lot of people are shocked the first time they meet a Klingon in person. And you've had to absorb a lot in a short time." She caught Chakotay's eye across the bed. After the fainting incident, she realized that Stann needed a more gradual acclimation to his new surroundings. If he wasn't confined to Sickbay, the displaced pilot needed a guide -- and she couldn't think of anyone better for that role than Chakotay. "If the doctors approve, I thought you might show our guest a bit of the ship."

"I'd be glad to." He smiled, but it was his diplomatic smile, the one he used at cocktail parties and encounters with admirals. In a moment she understood. "As it happens, I'm supposed to meet Commander Prolak for lunch in ten minutes."

She understood the tacit question -- did she want Prolak to have access to Stann yet? It took only a moment to decide that there was no point in antagonizing the Romulan by prolonging the encounter, and she trusted Chakotay to protect Stann from any harassment or interrogation. "That's fine, then. I'm sure our Romulan guest is eager to meet you."

"You have a Romulan on board?" Stann asked. "But the way Danok talked, I didn't think you were friendly."

"It's a long story." Chakotay laid a hand on his shoulder. "I'll try to explain."

"I'll leave you to it," Kathryn said. "We're about to get very busy."

Before she turned, though, Stann said, "Captain? Did I help?"

She smiled warmly. "You did indeed."

"I'm glad." He looked at her solemnly. "You've got to stop that thing."

USS Voyager -- Captain's Dining Room

The table used for formal dinners was long and narrow, and now was flanked by senior officers from both ships. La Forge sat at one end, Janeway at the other, and for the moment, the room was quiet. "So," Janeway said. "We've got the plan. Are there any questions?"

There was another moment of silence, then Griz Chafyn spoke. "You're assuming the Cyclops will be unable to use its weapon if it loses the scanner. And you are assuming that it doesn't have any other defensive capability."

"It might. Kirk's planet-killer had some kind of defensive perimeter. But -- nothing like that has been reported on this one," Sam Lavelle said. "Distor Stann would have told us if he'd seen anything like that."

Harry Kim added, "And when you think about it, it doesn't need them. It was designed to be impervious. There's not much anyone can do to hurt it externally."

"Still," Ishtak said, "It may have assets we don't know about."

Paris shook his head. "Okay, what if it does? We won't know until we try."

"That," Janeway said, "is one of the reasons we're sending teams of two in the shuttles. Yes, we're sending the officers with the highest pilot ratings from each ship, regardless of their current assignment. But they'll have enough on their hands without dealing with the unexpected. The pilots will each choose a co-pilot to deal with the unexpected."

"And count on it, people," La Forge added, "there will be something unexpected. We've made a lot of good guesses, but they're still guesses. We'll be incredibly lucky if everything goes as we hope the first time."

"That's encouraging," Paris said under his breath. The only ones who apparently heard were Sam Lavelle, sitting directly opposite, and B'Elanna, beside him. Lavelle frowned at him, but B'Elanna kicked his ankle without changing her facial expression an iota.

"Which is why we have contingency plans," Tuvok said. Paris decided he had heard, as well.

La Forge looked at Jenny Delaney. "Do we know where the Cyclops is?"

"Yes, sir," she replied without hesitation. "We've got it pegged."

"How long before the shuttles can be ready?" Janeway asked.

"We don't need to do much." B'Elanna looked to Homer James for confirmation. "About an hour, I'd say." Odyssey's engineer nodded his agreement.

Janeway stood. "Good. I want to stop this thing without losing any more people. Let's do it."

ACT FOUR

USS Voyager -- Bridge

"Status," Janeway said as she left her ready room.

"Voyager and Odyssey are in position," Tuvok replied. "Audio link established."

"Open the tactical display." Almost before the words were out of her mouth, Janeway found herself staring at a three-dimensional holographic display directly in front of the viewscreen. The image stood nearly four and half meters high and three meters deep, criss-crossed with yellow grid lines. Voyager flashed a bright sky blue on the far right while Odyssey gleamed neon green in the opposite grid. Between them, the Cyclops showed as huge red silhouette.

She touched the comm control on her chair. As senior captain, this was her call. "Odyssey, what's your status?"

"We're ready when you are, Voyager."

She turned to Tuvok, who looked back with calm assurance. Then she nodded. "Deploy shuttles."

USS Voyager -- Shuttle Bay 2, Shuttle Voyager-1

"What's taking so long?" Auraan asked, then bit her lip. She hadn't meant to say that out loud, and certainly not so that Lt. Commander Paris could hear. He was the ranking pilot of all eight shuttles participating in the strike -- four from Voyager and four from Odyssey -- and she was astonished that he had requested her as his teammate. She didn't want him to think she was nervous.

Which she was.

But Paris smiled knowingly. "Seems like forever, doesn't it? It's only been a couple of minute."

"Sorry, sir."

He shrugged. "No need. I'd like to get going myself." Then his expression changed, and his gaze seemed to fix on something outside the shuttle. His face softened, and he nodded once.

Auraan followed his line of sight and saw Commander Torres standing on the upper deck near the control panel. She wasn't waving or doing anything overt, just staring directly at Paris. Auraan had the strangest feeling that they had both forgotten she was there.

::Stand by shuttles:: Tuvok's order seemed to ring more loudly than usual in the small craft.

"About time," Paris said, breaking the connection with Torres with a sudden grin. Reaching down, he produced a small holophoto from somewhere in the vicinity of his feet and fixed it to his console. Curious, Auraan stretched discreetly, expecting to see Commander Torres. Instead, she saw a very young girl with a ridged forehead, holding a toy animal and laughing.

Then the shuttle's engines began to hum softly, and Paris turned to her. "Get ready, Princess."

She stiffened even as she ran through her final departure checklist. "Please do not call me that, sir."

"Why not? It's who you are." Paris wasn't even looking at her as he spoke.

"On this ship, my only title is lieutenant."

The words came out more sharply than she intended, and he swiveled in his chair. "For the next hour or so, you're on my ship, Auraan. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm not particularly impressed by things like titles, so I'm not too careful how I use them. I'm counting on you to watch our butt and I don't want you distracted by stuff that doesn't matter."

Her cheeks warmed, and she knew they must be nearly sapphire blue. "Yes, sir."

::Launch all shuttles.::

Auraan's heart turned over and she drew a slow breath. Paris looked up at the control deck one more time and nodded once. Then his hands covered the maneuvering controls and the shuttle began to glide toward the open port.

USS Odyssey, Shuttle Bay 2, Shuttle Odyssey-2

Sam Lavelle guided the class-2 shuttle out the port, keeping a safe distance behind Tatya Korbut's lead craft. He was still navigating visually, and there was something off about it, he thought. "Looks like Korbut's got a wobble," he said to Harry Kim, beside him in the co-pilot's seat. "Check it out."

Kim looked up from his panel and spent about two seconds studying the view of the shuttle ahead of them. Then he swiveled his chair and pulled up a schematic on the console. "Yeah, that's what we call a wobble. Looks like the aft stabilizer."

"Damn," Sam whispered. Korbut was a good pilot, too good to not realize her ship had a shimmy. She was also proud, perhaps too proud to turn back from this assignment. "Odyssey 2 to Odyssey 1," he said into the comm system.

::Yes, Commander:: Korbut replied after a moment's lapse.

"Looks like you've got a problem."

There was another pause before the response came. ::The aft stabilizer went off line for a bit. Nothing serious. O'Connell has it working now.::

"Are you certain? We can't afford to have it disappear on you once we're in place."

::It's fixed:: She sounded testy. ::Don't worry about us. We can handle it.::

The channel closed. Sam wondered if he ought to abort the mission and order her back to the ship, but the Odyssey-1 looked smooth and steady again. "Check again. Is she right?"

After a quick check, Kim nodded. "She's right. It's back online. O'Connell's pretty good."

All right then, Sam thought. We go on.

USS Voyager -- Deck 8, Corridor

"Commander Prolak!" Chakotay shouted as he jogged down the corridor, ignoring the amber lights that signified the ship was on alert. Sure enough, there was the Romulan ahead of him, clutching the wrist of Distor Stann and practically dragging him down the corridor.

In Chakotay's experience, shouting was undignified and generally ineffective and he wasn't happy to be forced into it. He had promised Kathryn to keep an eye on Prolak during the attempt to neutralize the Cyclops, and had resigned himself to waiting out the alert in the guest cabin. But Prolak had suggested a game of chess, and promised to stay put while Chakotay fetched the chess set. When he returned, Prolak was gone.

He probably should have reported it then, but he really wanted to resolve this without letting anyone know he'd been duped. Instinct told him Prolak would go looking for the cabin where Stann had been quartered and he was relieved to see he'd been right, although it looked as if Stann himself wasn't pleased about it. He was bent so far forward that only the grip on his wrist seemed to be keeping him upright.

"If you don't stop, I'll have to call Security."

For once, shouting worked. Prolak stopped dead and let go of Stann. The thin pilot sagged back against a bulkhead, panting from exertion. The Romulan had the temerity to look annoyed. "Professor Chakotay, why are you pursuing us?"

"Commander Prolak, why aren't you in your assigned quarters?" Chakotay countered as he caught up. "You were instructed to remain there while the ship is on alert."

"My government sent me to observe. That is exactly what I intend to do."

"You don't think you'll be allowed on the Bridge?" Chakotay almost laughed at the idea, but managed to squelch it.

"I thought the Captain would recognize the interest we have in this matter." He glanced at Stann.

"I see. You thought the soft-hearted female Captain would feel sorry enough for Stann to let him on the Bridge if he asked." Prolak remained motionless, but from a quick flash in his eyes, Chakotay knew he'd guessed correctly. "If she weren't so busy, I'd let you test that theory. But now isn't the time. You have two choices, Subcommander. You can come with me to your quarters, or Security will take you there."

He stared into hard dark eyes, as unreadable as any Vulcan's. Then, to his surprise, Prolak smiled. "You used to be first officer on this ship."

"The first Voyager, yes."

Prolak nodded, as if thinking something over. "Very well. We shall return to my quarters. But be advised, Professor, I do want to know what's happening."

"I'm sure the Captain will brief you as soon as she is free," Chakotay told him. He turned to Stann, who was still breathing hard. "Are you all right?"

"W-will be," Stann wheezed. "Out of condition-" He pulled himself erect and took a step toward Chakotay. His left ankle bent outward and he started to collapse.

Lunging, Chakotay and Prolak each caught an arm and kept him from hitting the deck. "My ankle," Stann said with a grimace. "I twisted it before."

"I didn't realize," Prolak said. He seemed sincere, and even concerned.

Although the pilot was so light Chakotay could have carried him easily, he felt that would be too much of an insult to the man's dignity. He slipped an arm across Stann's back, supporting him on the side of the injury between his upper and lower arms. It was awkward, but it worked. "We'll go to Sickbay first," he said. "But slowly, this time."

USS Voyager II -- Bridge

The shuttles appeared as eight dots of orangey-yellow on the holographic grid. Janeway watched as seven of them positioned themselves above the Cyclops, which was still gliding in horizontal mode. The eighth continued past the others until it was hovering 1,000 kilometers directly in front of the planet-killer. That was the shuttle manned by Sam Lavelle and Harry Kim. The biomatter had been Lavelle's idea and he insisted on seeing it through.

"Shuttles report ready," Ishtak said.

"Captain La Forge?" she asked through the audio link.

The reply was immediate. "At your convenience, Captain."

This was it, then. The eight most highly rated shuttle pilots on the two ships were now their best hope of stopping the Cyclops. She touched the link that would carry her voice to each of the ships. "Shuttle task force. Commence Plan A."

Shuttle Odyssey-2

Sam Lavelle was so tense with anticipation that he started in his seat at the sound of Janeway's voice. "That's it," he said to Kim. "Drop the cargo."

Harry activated the interior forcefield that formed an airlock between them and the aft of the shuttle, and then opened the rear hatch. Five large containers, lashed together so they couldn't drift apart, were swept out into space.

"There it goes," Harry said. "Sure looks like a big bunch of animals to me. And," he frowned, "some plant life. What else is in there?"

"Oh, we grabbed some shrubs from Voyager's arboretum. Everything on Odyssey is considered a science project or food supply. Tuvok wasn't convinced that animal life alone would do the trick."

Harry studied the readings again. "Did Tuvok pick out the shrubs?"

"No, there wasn't time. I just grabbed the stuff that looked the smallest. Okay, we're clear. Here we go." Sam turned his attention to his console as he accelerated and headed for the other shuttles.

Harry closed the hatch and deactivated the airlock. "There's the bait," he said softly. "Now check it out, Cyclops. See what's there."

Cyclops

Sensors twitched. There was the scent of the inconsequential beings nearby, but they did not merit investigation. But there -- suddenly there was something more. The Purpose mandated a closer look.

Shuttle Odyssey-2

"It's working," Sam said, excitement rising. "Here comes the tail."

He watched in fascination as the vertex of the cone began to rise and inflate, becoming bulbous. The process was mechanical rather than graceful, but compelling to watch.

::All right, boys and girls.:: The voice of Tom Paris, senior pilot of the shuttle task force, suddenly filled the cabin. ::It's showtime. Get in position as soon as the tail reaches 90 degrees.::

The combination of phrasing and tone caught Sam's attention. "Not exactly regulation vernacular."

"That's Tom Paris," Harry said, grinning. "He'll never be anyone's idea of a book-perfect officer." Then he became serious. "Passing seventy degrees."

"And up we go." Sam maneuvered the shuttle directly upward. They were to form the upper right front corner of a cube that would surround the open eye.

"Eighty degrees...eighty five..."

"Stand by to activate energy field."

::Stand by to activate energy field:: Paris unknowingly echoed.

Harry's hand poised over the controls. The engineers hadn't been able to program a coordinated activation sequence because they didn't know how to calculate it. The start-up would have to be manual and it would have to be simultaneous. "Ninety degrees," he said.

::Activate field in 3, 2, 1 -- now.::

The shuttle shivered as the energy net spread outward. From their corner, it would spread to starboard and link with the shuttle at the rear right corner, to port to link with the upper left corner, and straight down to link with Korbut's shuttle in the lower right corner. With each shuttle making three connections, an eight-sided screen was formed, covering every possible angle the scanning beam might take.

The "hood" shimmered as it ran through its program of frequency modulations, up and down the e-m ranges. Sam watched as the eye opened slowly. He tensed; things would happen quickly now. If they didn't hit the right frequency in the 36 seconds the scanning beam was activated, the plan would fail.

And who knew what would happen then.

"Come on," he muttered. The eye was taking forever to open. It was almost as if it knew what was in store.

Then the shuttle began to vibrate oddly. "It's Korbut," Kim said. "Her aft stabilizer is out again."

::Odyssey-1, get your ship under control!:: Paris ordered.

::I'm trying:: came Korbut's tight response. Sam understood; the vibrations from her ship were spreading throughout the field and intensifying. It required all his concentration to hold his own ship steady. The energy field links created a powerful pull away from the ship in three directions; the effort to resist the pull strained the little ship so much it groaned.

"Watch your structural integrity," Harry shouted into the comm "Your port nacelle-"

At that instant, the port nacelle on Korbut's shuttle sheared off and flew across space in the flow of the energy field, directly to the Odyssey-3 shuttle at the lower left front corner. It struck the starboard nacelle of that shuttle, which exploded instantly.

The force of the explosion traveled along the energy field before it collapsed, and Sam felt it hit like a photon torpedo as it sent his ship cartwheeling out of control.

USS Voyager -- Bridge

Janeway's jaw clenched as she watched the unlucky shuttle explode on the hologrid. The power of the explosion translated into rivers of flame red that flowed like rapids back to the other ships, and she was on her feet before those rivers slammed into the remaining ships like a flood bursting through a dam.

"Stand by," she said, intent on the orange-yellow motes that were all spiraling away from the Cyclops. "Be ready to go after anyone who can't regain control."

One by one, the shuttles slowed their spin and regained normal attitude -- except one. It as hard to tell, but Janeway felt certain it was the shuttle that had first fallen out of position. It was still tumbling wildly through space, in the general direction of the scanning beam that was still fixed on the containers of biomatter.

"Can we transport?" she asked.

"Negative," Tuvok replied. "The scanning beam is creating too much interference."

The decision was made before she realized it. "Take us in, Mr. Tresyl," she told the ensign covering for Paris. "I want to be close enough for a tractor beam. Full shields, Mr. Ishtak."

"Aye, Captain." The ship lurched as it went from dead stop to full impulse without transition. Janeway almost lost her footing but stayed upright.

::That's one of mine:: La Forge told her over the comm link. ::Odyssey should -- ::

"Stay put," Janeway finished for him. "You can't get there in time. We can." Then she looked at the tactical station. "Time?"

"The scanning beam has been operational for twenty-eight seconds," Ishtak told her.

Eight seconds to go before the maw opened and used the destructive beam. Voyager sailed forward, but even at full impulse it felt like a crawl. The containers of biomatter, glowing star-like in the white light, were only 6,000 kilometers astern.

She willed time to slow down. Time ignored her.

"Tractor beam on," Ensign Fickell called from the Ops station. "We've got it."

"Full reverse, Mr. Tresyl," Janeway said, at the same instant Ishtak rumbled, "Converting to weapon beam."

She could feel the ship strain beneath her feet, feel its joints stress and pull as it struggled to change its momentum. And then everything tilted and suddenly she was flying across the Bridge. The deck dropped away from her until gravity grabbed her again and she fell downward, smacking the carpet in a flash of pain and light.

USS Voyager --Turbolift

As soon as the turbolift doors closed, the ship lurched. "Wh-what's happening?" Stann asked. He was trembling again, and even though it was a normal reaction for any Keaynn faced with danger, he wished it would stop. The Captain's spouse was still supporting him and could surely sense it.

"We're moving," Chakotay answered. "It's nothing to worry about."

"If I were you, I'd worry about your helmsman," Prolak said. "Romulan cadets can do better than that."

Stann didn't like Prolak, he decided. Not at all. He guessed Chakotay felt the same, because he pointedly ignored the comment. Instead, he looked at Stann. "How are you doing?"

To his own surprise, Stann responded with a slightly twisted smile. "I'm beginning to wonder what I did to offend the Powers of the Universe."

Prolak sniffed, but Chakotay smiled in return. "I know what you mean. I've had days like that myself. But don't worry, our doctors will be able to fix you up in no time."

"I believe you. Your doctors -- and yours, Prolak -- amaze me. But then, everything I've seen amazes me. You are so far ahead of where we are." His momentary wry humor vanished. "Were. Sometimes I forget Keaynn isn't there any more. Sometimes I can't think of anything else."

Chakotay nodded. "When my home world was destroyed several years ago, I alternated between denial and depression for a long time."

A feeling of kinship, a hope so strong it was almost painful, filled his chest. He searched Chakotay's face and saw empathy. At least, he thought it was empathy and not simply pity. "Are you alone, then? Like me?"

"Not quite. A few hundred of us survived. You'll find," he said, "there are a lot of us who understand what it is to lose everything, or at least everything important. When this is over, I'll introduce you to my friend Neelix. You'll like him."

The idea of friends who understood what he was going through almost overwhelmed him. He hadn't dared to think about the future yet. Then Prolak stirred. "You assume he will choose to go with you, Professor. He may prefer to remain in the protection of the Empire."

I definitely don't like him, Stann thought. Chakotay's mouth tightened a bit, but all he said was, "Of course, the choice is yours, Stann."

The turbolift doors opened, and Prolak exited first. Chakotay and Stann started out, but just as they stepped into the corridor, the ship jerked violently, and then jerked again. Still gripped by Chakotay, Stann stumbled and fell to his knees, pulling his supporter with him.

"We've been hit!" Prolak shouted, at the exact moment the lights went out and the gravity failed.

Stann felt himself begin to float, free not only of weight but also of Chakotay. Before his eyes adjusted to the darkness, a thin strip of red light kicked on, casting an eerie ruby aura.

Chakotay, floating nearby, reached and pushed Stann toward the bulkhead. "Use the wall," he said. "Head for Sickbay. It has an independent power source."

The bulkhead didn't have hand grips, but Stann was able to use the edge of the strip of lighting as a guide. To his right, he saw Prolak doing the same thing. Instead of taking his own advice, though, Chakotay was maneuvering toward a large panel on the opposite bulkhead. "What are you doing?" Stann asked.

"This is a routing station. I may be able to bypass the disabled circuits and get some power again."

Stann stopped moving and watched as Chakotay removed the panel, exposing an area of piping and cable and wiring and other things Stann couldn't name but recognized as dangerous. "Be careful-"

Suddenly gravity returned, and Stann plummeted to the deck. Instinctively, he pulled himself into a tight ball and landed on his butt. It hurt but did no injury, other than leaving him dizzy for a moment.

As the vertigo cleared, he realized the normal lighting had returned. Chakotay was sprawled across the floor, eyes closed. The exposed area was smoking and hissing.

Stann crawled to the unconscious man, touching him gingerly. Bright red blood -- red! -- was spreading across his forehead and his hands were burned, but he was still warm and breathing "He's alive," he said in relief. He didn't think he could stand losing a friend, even if he was still just a potential friend, so soon.

Prolak pulled himself to his feet and walked over. He was cradling one arm. "I am injured. Can you help me get him to Sickbay?"

"Yes." Stann grabbed four handfuls of shirt from Chakotay's left shoulder while Prolak did the same on the other side. As they dragged the man down the corridor, Stann wondered again what he could have done to offend the Powers of the Universe.

USS Voyager -- Bridge

Janeway jumped to her feet immediately after slamming into the deck, and regretted it at once. A stab of burning pain told her she had damaged a rib, and the entire right side of her face was throbbing. It didn't matter. "Status," she called.

"Gravity and life support are back on line," Tuvok replied immediately, as calmly as if he were reading a dinner menu. "Engines are not. We were struck by the peripheral edge of the energy beam. The Cyclops has not attempted to suction the debris. The damaged shuttle is drifting off our port."

::Voyager, do you require assistance?:: La Forge asked. Although he was trying to conceal it, he sounded worried.

"Negative, Odyssey. Stay put." As she spoke, she quickly assessed the Bridge. The hologrid was out and a couple of the science stations had overloaded, but everything -- and everyone -- else looked functional.

::Captain, we show you have no engines and no shields. To be blunt, you're a sitting duck.::

She smiled grimly. "Not for long, if I know my engineer. And if we are, well, it looks like we're at Plan Z in any case."

::But-::

"No 'buts,' Geordi. Plan Z. Hold your position and be prepared to retrieve the shuttles." She returned to her command chair and switched channels. "Engineering. We need engines, B'Elanna. Any engines."

::We're working on impulse drive:: Torres replied tensely. ::It's a mess down here.::

"Decks 11 though 15 report damage," Tuvok added quietly.

::Sickbay to Bridge:: A new voice intruded into the comm. For a moment, Janeway was confused, because it wasn't the Doctor. Then she realized it was Zeke Brown. The EMH must be down, she thought.

"Yes, Dr. Brown?"

::Captain, Chakotay was hurt in the attack:: Zeke said, sounding hesitant. ::The Doctor is treating him now. I thought you'd want to know::

For a second, just a second, she froze. Of course she wanted to know, she wanted to know everything, she wanted to be told exactly what happened and exactly how bad it was. She wanted to hurry down and be there.

But the second passed, and her mind forced the worry and the fear back to a corner for later consumption. The crew was looking at her, waiting for orders. She steeled herself to move on. "Thank you, Doctor," she said, knowing she sounded cold. It didn't matter. "We're a little busy now."

Then she said, "Can someone get the viewscreen working?"

"Aye," Ishtak said, and the blank screen came to life. The Cyclops was there, white and smooth and slick. And its tail was swiveling toward Voyager.

Plan Z, she thought. The last resort. Sacrifice a ship to the Cyclops, and then the shuttles lob tri-cobalt devices into the interior when it opened its mouth. They had agreed it might come to this, but she had thought it would be one of the shuttles, not her entire ship. Well, she wasn't going out without a fight. "Not yet," she said to the image on the screen. "Not by a long shot."

Shuttle Voyager-1

"Oh, crap," Tom Paris said forcefully as he struggled to gain control of the spinning shuttle. "Come on, baby, come to papa."

Auraan didn't hear him. Her inner ear was ringing and she was praying to the entire Pantheon of Troyius for the whirling to stop.

It seemed to go on forever and ever, and then it was over. The rotation slowed, slowed more and finally stopped. The shuttle came to a dead halt. Paris leaned back and blew out a long, noisy breath. "Oh-kay. That was fun. Are you all right?"

She nodded cautiously. Her stomach was still turning, but otherwise she was unharmed.

"Get me a damage report," he said, and then hit the comm "Task force, this is Voyager-1. Report."

::Odyssey-2 reporting:: It was Harry Kim. ::We're all right. Odyssey-3 is ... gone, and we're not sure about Odyssey-1 and Odyssey-4.::

::We're here:: came the shaky voice of Jenny Delaney, co-pilot on Odyssey 4. ::We can see Korbut's shuttle. It's badly damaged, but she and O'Connell are still alive.::

::Voyager-2 reporting functional::

::Same for us:: the two remaining shuttles reported simultaneously.

Auraan's screens had gone offline but she brought them up again. What she saw on the tactical screen made her catch her breath. "Commander Paris," she said, "Look!"

He leaned in her direction, and hissed. Voyager was listing in space, obviously damaged. A damaged shuttle, seemingly dead, drifted nearby. There was no sign of the biocontainers. The Cyclops wasn't moving; it was almost as if it were considering the situation.

Then the eye, still erect, began to swivel toward the ship.

He slapped his commbadge. "Paris to Voyager. You've got to get out of there."

::We know that, Tom.:: Captain Janeway sounded calm. ::We're trying. If we don't, consider it Plan Z and finish the job.::

Auraan watched Paris's face run through a series of emotions as he stared at the holophoto on his console. In a tight voice, he said, "Don't worry. We'll take care of it." Then he switched back to the comm frequency for the task force.

"This is Paris. Listen up. We're going to try again."

::How? Lavelle's voice was harsh, either with anger or desperation. ::We're down two ships. We can't do it.::

Paris answered so quickly, his words almost tumbled over each other. "The hell we can't. We'll make a pyramid, not a cube. Base of four, I'll take the apex. You'll each make three connections. Chen, hold Voyager-4 back. You'll take care of Plan Z if this doesn't work. Got it? Then move, people."

Even before he had finished the order, he had accelerated Voyager-1 toward the Cyclops. "Get ready," he said, without looking at Auraan. "You'll have to set the links manually."

"Sir, I can't do it," she said, dumbfounded. "At the apex, we'll have four connections. We'll overload."

"Don't tell me what you can't do," he said, so angrily she flinched. "Just do it."

She swallowed and got to work.

The Cyclops

It was unprecedented. Moments earlier, the threshold for interest had barely been reached. It had been eliminated, but still the sensors were registering unmistakable levels well above the touch point. The target had been eliminated. What was this new scent? Further inspection was required.

The tiny annoyances were still there, but they were of no matter. There was life nearby, waiting for verification and elimination.

Scanner activated.

Shuttle Voyager-1

She was too busy trying to figure out how to adjust for four connections to look up, but Auraan knew the instant the scanning ray started from the noise Paris made. It wasn't a word, but it was a curse nonetheless. "Thirty-six seconds," she said.

He didn't acknowledge the comment. "Paris to task force. Stand by to initiate energy field." Then he turned the chair to face her. "Are you ready?"

No, she wanted to say. She wanted to cry. It's not going to work, we're going to blow up, this is useless. But in the end, she was indeed a Daughter of the Royal House of Troyius and would not display her fear. "I've done all I can."

To her astonishment, Paris smiled. "Good girl." Then he said into the comm, "Activate field in 3, 2, 1 -- now."

Auraan's fingers moved rapidly over her control panel, making the connection with each of the other four shuttles as they projected a link to them. At the fourth, she saw the spike in the power baffles. Almost immediately a warning light began to flash. "Power overload building," she warned.

"Just hold on." Below them, the energy field shimmered as it modulated through the programmed frequencies, a pyramid of sparkling silver and gold that was not affecting the green scanning beam at all. "Twenty-five seconds," Paris muttered. "Come on."

The emergency klaxon blasted a tattoo of sound. "Sir, the overload-"

"Do something," Paris said. He was struggling to keep the shuttle steady against the pull of the energy field.

'Do something'? What kind of order was that? She started at him helplessly but he didn't see.

Below them, the energy field was shimmering as it modulated through the programmed frequencies -- and then it locked. ::Bingo!:: Sam Lavelle shouted over the open comm channel. ::We've got it now!::

::Fifteen seconds to go:: someone else said.

Auraan's eyes were fixed on the power indicator. The level was approaching critical. In a moment, it would overwhelm the baffles and burn out every system, including the energy field. Impulsively, she disabled one of the major baffles.

As she raised her hands from the board, the implacable power bled through the baffle and surged through the unprotected system with a sound like rushing water and the smell of burnt circuits.

"Something fried," Paris said. "What was it?"

"Life support," she replied. "If we fail, it won't matter. And if we succeed, we'll have enough oxygen to return to the ship."

He grinned. "Now you're getting it."

USS Voyager -- Bridge

Janeway tried to protect her eyes from the intense green light with one hand. "B'Elanna," she said, "now would be a good time."

::You've got impulse:: B'Elanna responded triumphantly.

"Evasive maneuvers, Mr. Tresyl." They had about ten seconds, she guessed, and doubted that any maneuver could be effective at this distance and speed, but they had to try.

The ship rolled up and away from the beam, but couldn't escape it. The blinding light still pervaded the Bridge. Eight seconds, she thought. Seven.

Then the light flickered and pulsed. The strobe effect was unexpected and painful. Then it stopped. It was just .. gone. Was this the beginning of the next phase?

"Look," Tuvok said.

She had to blink several times to get her eyes adjusted to normal light again, but then she saw the viewscreen. Five shuttles were hovering around the eye of the Cyclops, which was not just smoking and covered in grime and soot, but also tilting to one side. It looked as if the feedback overload had caused a significant fire, if not an actual explosion. And the base had closed, leaving the front flat and apparently seamless.

Plan A must have worked after all.

"Full stop," she said. "Janeway to Paris."

::At your service, Captain.::

She couldn't help smiling. Paris never changed, and at the moment she wouldn't have it any other way. "Well done, Tom. Recall the task force."

"Yes, ma'am."

To Tuvok, she said, "Beam over the crew from the disabled shuttle. As soon as the rest are safely aboard, back us up to a safe distance and hold position. I'll be in Sickbay."

The Cyclops

Blind? It checked itself for damage. Blind! The sensors still registered the aroma of life, still nearby in quantity sufficient to the Purpose, but there was no Eye to confirm. How could the Purpose be served?

The Purpose must be served. There must be a way.

USS Odyssey -- Bridge

Sam Lavelle came straight to the Bridge from the shuttle bay, not bothering to stop to clean up. He wanted to see the Cyclops from big viewscreen. Something was niggling at him, although he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Perhaps it was just delayed nerves. If so, the sight of the crippled planet-killer should help.

La Forge was on his feet, staring at the viewscreen, as Sam left the turbolift. "Nice job, Commander. You regrouped quickly."

"That was Paris." He said it quietly. "He's ... quick on his feet."

"You all reacted the way you needed to." La Forge looked again at the screen. The Cyclops had returned to its horizontal orientation, but the damaged eye hadn't retracted. It dangled from the tip, dangerously close to breaking loose. "I wonder if it feels pain."

"What's going to happen to it now? Will the Romulans do something with it?"

"That's someone else's challenge, not ours." He turned away from the screen and studied Sam for a moment. "For someone who just finished a successful mission, you don't look very happy."

"We lost two crewmen. And," he hesitated, "something doesn't feel right."

"Captain," Lt. Chafyn said from tactical, "the Cyclops is starting to move."

Sure enough, the planet-killer was slowly moving forward, probably at the equivalent of half-impulse speed. "Where's it going?"

"Straight for Voyager."

La Forge said, "Switch to holographic view."

The three-dimensional image sprang up, showing damaged Voyager moving slowly, and the monstrously larger Cyclops inching along behind it.

Sam stared it for a moment, transfixed. It sure looked like it was on a deliberate intercept course.

La Forge shook his head. "It must be a coincidence. It can't find targets any more."

"Sir," Sam said slowly, "is it true that when a person loses their sight, their hearing improves?"

"Sometimes." La Forge frowned. "What are you saying?"

Sam turned to him. "We blinded it. But what if it had other sensors that now have become more sensitive?"

"Are you saying it can hear life forms?"

"Maybe. Or smell it, or feel it, or some other sensory contact." He pointed to the image on the hologrid. "If Voyager weren't damaged, this wouldn't be a problem. But what if that thing knows that the ship is there. It might not be able to target its weapon, but it still has a mouth. It can eat. If Voyager's engines and defenses are still down, that thing might just be able to suck it in."

La Forge stared at him for a moment, the artificial eyes somehow managing to convey abrupt understanding. "Damn. Griz, get Voyager.

::Commander Tuvok here. Captain Janeway is momentarily away from the Bridge.::

"Commander, what's your status? Do you have warp engines or weapons yet?"

::Negative. Our engineer estimates two more hours before engines are restored. Is there a problem?::

"Maybe. We aren't sure. But I'd feel better if you could go to maximum speed and get some distance between you and Cyclops." La Forge took his seat, and Sam followed suit. "We have some concern that it will come after you, ah, orally."

There was a pause before Tuvok replied. ::I take your point. We shall increase to full impulse power.::

That niggling feeling left Sam convinced that wouldn't be enough.

USS Voyager -- Sickbay

Even though Kathryn had successfully shoved her worry for him aside after Dr. Brown told her of the injury, it had flooded back as soon as she left the Bridge. It had never taken so long to travel just five decks.

Sickbay was busy, but it wasn't as bad she had feared. Even better, most of the crew seemed to be ambulatory as they were attended to by Dr. Zimmerman and Dr. Brown and the rest of the medical staff. She looked around, but Chakotay wasn't on any of the biobeds. Stepping around an abandoned first aid cart, she finally spotted him. Her relief was so great that her knees almost buckled.

He was in the Doctor's office, sitting at the desk with both hands immersed in a large tub filled with green goo. She recognized it as the regenerative gel used to treat burns. Distor Stann and Prolak were there with him, and they appeared to be having a fine conversation. In fact, it was such a fine conversation that he was completely oblivious to her presence.

"Captain? Are you injured?"

She turned at the sound of the Doctor's voice. "Not badly. I just wanted to check-" she let the sentence end prematurely, but inclined her head toward his office.

"Ah. It's nothing significant. He suffered a concussion and some burns on both hands. Another couple of hours and he can leave." His face became serious. "I apologize for Dr. Brown. He shouldn't have called in the midst of the crisis. Remember, he hasn't served on a ship before."

She nodded. "He's young."

"But he is a good physician. Other than his faux pas with you, he's done very well today." He looked at her and frowned. "You're in pain, aren't you?"

Caught, she pressed her left hand against her ribcage. "A little."

He lifted his medical tricorder and checked her out. "Well, you've got two cracked ribs, and a broken wrist, not to mention that bruise on your face. Why don't you have a seat?"

::Tuvok to Janeway. Captain, you're needed on the Bridge.::

"On my way." To the Doctor, she said, "Can you give me something for the pain? I'll come back as soon as I can for treatment."

"Of course." He picked up a hypospray from the cart and injected her. "But try not to roll around on the deck any more. Those ribs could still break."

USS Odyssey -- Bridge

"Voyager is pulling away," Harry Kim reported from Ops. He returned to the Bridge only a few minutes after Sam. Then he added, "Cancel that. Cyclops is accelerating."

"But is it going after Voyager?" La Forge asked. "Or is it just fleeing the scene of its injury?"

Sam said, "There's one way to find out."

La Forge nodded and signaled Kim to open the ship-to-ship channel. "Voyager, are you at maximum speed?"

Janeway replied. ::This is the best we've got at the moment.::

"I suggest you change course by ninety degrees. That should tell us if it's following you."

::Agreed.::

They watched the viewscreen as Voyager made a sharp left turn, running perpendicular to its previous course. The Cyclops didn't slow as it made an identical turn.

"That settles that," Sam said. "It's hungry."

La Forge shook his head. "Captain Janeway, any chance you'll get torpedoes any time soon?"

She didn't answer immediately, but when she did, she sounded tired. ::Apparently not. We've been concentrating on engines first. Weapons are off line for at least several more hours.::

"Cyclops is now within two hundred and fifty thousand kilometers," Kim said. "And closing."

Sam frowned. "Kirk's planet-killer was equipped with a tractor beam. That's how it pulled in debris. I don't know what's its range was."

On the screen, Voyager rolled upward and began a pattern of random course changes. Sam suspected that Paris was at the helm. ::I don't know how long this will work. Do you have a plan, Captain?::

La Forge's answer was cut off by the sight of the Cyclops opening its mouth. The flat white panel developed seams in the shape of a triskele, and then irised open. The vortex inside was a glimpse of Hell. "Voyager-"

"Tractor beam," Harry Kim said. "It's got a lock on them."

::It's got a tractor beam on us. We're being pulled in.::

Déjà vu, Sam thought. This was what happened to Kirk and the Enterprise. "Plan Z," he said. "Now."

La Forge nodded, but said, "It could get us all blown up."

"I don't think so," Sam said. "The neutronium should contain it, as long as we're not directly in front of it."

"Warp zero point five," La Forge snapped at Korbut's replacement at helm. "Get us between Voyager and the mouth. Griz, stand by with the tri-cobalt torpedoes."

"Voyager won't be able to get away fast enough," Kim said. "She'll be caught in the blast zone."

"The tri-cobalt torpedoes have a three-second delay. Drop a tractor beam on her as we pass by," Sam told him, meeting the younger man's eyes directly. Dropping a tractor beam in warp drive, even low warp drive was both tricky and dangerous. He was challenging Kim to pull it off, and they both knew it. Kim nodded, in acceptance or acknowledgement, or both.

"Get ready, Voyager," La Forge said. "We're coming in."

Odyssey sped forward, inserting itself in the shrinking area between Voyager and the Cyclops. "Starboard torpedoes ready," Chafyn said.

"Stand by," Sam said. "Ops?"

"Ready."

"Helm, prepare to increase speed to warp one, straight up the y axis." Sam looked to La Forge.

"On my order," the Captain said. "Now."

Odyssey jerked as the tractor beam attached to Voyager an instant before the one from Cyclops let go. The delay was just long enough to see two torpedoes arced into the maw, leaving eddies in the vortex to mark their trail. Then Odyssey burst upward, pulling its sister ship with it.

Even in warp, they felt the shock wave of the explosions below. The hologrid showed them what happened. Beneath them, the mouth of the Cyclops seemed to erupt like a horizontal volcano, the force so great that the thing was pushed back. The vertex was no longer in alignment with the cone but sagged downward, and the Eye was gone completely. It drifted slowly backwards, driven only by inertia.

Even in the computer representation, it was clear that the Cyclops was dead.

"Direct hit," Chafyn said.

::Our thanks, Odyssey.:: Captain Janeway said over the comm.

La Forge smiled. "Any time, Voyager. That's what friends are for."

EPILOGUE

USS Voyager -- Captain's Ready Room

Bone re-knit, bruises healed, Kathryn Janeway sat behind her desk in her ready room, a PADD in one hand. Geordi La Forge, seated in the same location on his ship, spoke to her through her desktop monitor. "So the damage was superficial, then?"

"Most of it. Commander Torres says she'll have transwarp operational again by morning, with the help from your staff. We may need an extra day or two at Deep Space 10 for hull repairs, but no more than that." She set the PADD down and smiled. "If anyone doubted the ability of our respective crews to work together effectively, I think we proved otherwise."

La Forge grinned. "Absolutely. We made a great team."

"And in that spirit," Kathryn leaned closer, "would you like to escort Commander Prolak back to the Alpha Quadrant?"

La Forge chuckled. "Oh, but I wouldn't want to insult him. I'm sure he's expecting to be escorted by the senior commander."

"In other words, no." Kathryn shrugged. "I don't blame you. But I can't wait to hand him over to Josh Merves again. On an unhappier topic, have you scheduled the memorial service yet?"

Geordi became serious. "We'll do it at Deep Space 10. Some of Kit Kesler's shipmates from her last posting are stationed there now, and Li's wife should be able to arrive in time."

"Let me know, please. I know Tom Paris wants to attend, and I'm sure others will, too. How are Korbut and O'Connell doing?"

"Fine. Dr. Ogawa tells me they can return to duty tomorrow." Then he adopted an expression of exaggerated confusion. "Say, I thought you were supposed to be on your honeymoon."

She laughed. "I heard that rumor, too."

"Good night, Kathryn. We'll talk tomorrow."

"Good night, Geordi." The connection ended, and she swung the monitor back to its resting position. There were reports waiting to be read, and forms waiting to be filled out, but with a single decisive movement, she turned off the computer. Time enough to deal with paperwork tomorrow.

Beta Quadrant -- USS Odyssey -- Harry Kim's Quarters

"I still can't believe it," Jenny repeated. She had stopped by unexpectedly, too wound up to be alone yet. Harry was getting used to his new role as surrogate sibling. "I can't believe I got to be part of that."

Harry handed her a glass of fruit juice and joined her at the table. "Why not? You're on the senior staff. You've done co-pilot duty before. Senar knew he could rely on you."

She had let her hair down and was more relaxed than he had seen her in days. "Yeah, but still, I expected to be trapped in the Astrometrics Lab for most of this trip. Maybe an occasional shift on the Bridge, but not much else. Especially if Sam Lavelle is handing out the assignments."

"You're being too hard on yourself."

"But I notice you don't think I'm being too hard on him. I swear, Harry, I don't know what he has against me." She flipped a strand of hair over her shoulder. "Maybe he's just a poop."

Harry was willing to bet very few women had ever referred to Sam Lavelle as a 'poop.' "I could ask him," he offered blandly.

Her eyes bugged. "Don't you dare!" In an obvious effort to change the subject, she asked, "Have you read Marla's letter yet?"

"No. I think I should just delete it."

"Oh, no, Harry." She set her drink down. "You should see what she has to say."

"What could she possibly say that would make any difference?" he asked.

"I don't know, but you should read it anyway," she said. "You wouldn't be this upset if you didn't still care. Maybe it will help."

She was so sincere, he didn't have the heart to tell her she didn't understand. Just seeing the letter was like a rip in a scar that was just starting to heal. He was afraid that reading it would bring the pain back, as fresh as the day she ran away. "I'll think about it."

Clearly she didn't believe him, but she knew him well enough to recognize the subject was closed. "So," she said. "What do you want to do about dinner? Eat here? Mess hall? The Sandrine's program? Should I call O'Connell?" Her expression became sly. "Or perhaps Dr. Ogawa would like to join us."

His door chime sounded, and he stood to answer it. "Don't start matchmaking," he said, pointing at her. "Come."

He was surprised when Sam Lavelle walked in. "Harry -- oh. I'm interrupting."

"Not at all," Harry said. "We're just rehashing the day. Have a seat."

Lavelle seemed stiff as he joined them at the table, and Harry realized that Jenny had tensed up as well. She quickly pulled her hair back behind her shoulders, and squared her shoulders. "Juice?" she asked, indicating the pitcher of pulpy orange-red liquid.

"Betazoid orange juice?" he asked. "No thanks. Too sweet for me."

Harry sat, and waited for Lavelle to explain the reason for his visit. When nothing happened, he jumped in before the silence became too awkward. "That was really something today, wasn't it."

"Yeah. Um, your buddy from Voyager really came through."

The compliment for Tom Paris was so surprising that Harry nearly choked as he swallowed his juice. Jenny spoke up. "Tom's a good officer."

Recovered, Harry added, "And he wasn't about to let his wife get blown up or orphan his daughter." Then he remembered something. "Hey -- you know those shrubs you took from Voyager's arboretum? You might not want to mention that in front of Captain Janeway."

"Why not?"

"Those were coffee bushes." In her chair, Jenny clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh. "You might say that Captain Janeway is, uh, attached to her coffee."

Lavelle groaned. "Oh, lord, she had some kind of coffee bet with the Captain, didn't she?"

"Don't worry, your secret's safe with us." Harry grinned.

"Thanks." Then Lavelle must have run out of things to say, because he looked down at the table for a few seconds, then stood. "Well. I didn't mean to stay this long. I just wanted to let you know, we're having a poker game tonight in Alyssa's quarters. You're welcome to join us if you're interested."

"Thanks." Apparently Lavelle was continuing the tradition he had adopted on the Enterprise. Well, that wasn't surprising since so many former Enterprise officers were on board. "Is the Captain coming?"

"He might, but it depends on his workload." Lavelle cocked his head and smiled. He really could be disarming. "I hope he does. He's not that good."

Harry laughed. "Then you want me there, too. I'm not very good either."

"You're definitely welcome. Alyssa's place, 2030 hours. Bring a snack."

"What about me?" Jenny asked suddenly.

Lavelle looked at her with raised eyebrows, challenging her. "Do you know how to play?"

"Well enough." Then she smiled warmly. "But I make great snacks."

"That'll do." He turned to go, then stopped. "I thought you guys from Voyager were all smoke and no fire. I may have been wrong." Then he walked out.

"May be wrong?" Jenny repeated indignantly.

"Hey, that was big," Harry said. "Take it as a compliment." He went over to a drawer and returned with a deck of cards.

"What's that for?" she asked.

"Lessons. You don't know a thing about poker, do you?"

Beta Quadrant -- USS Voyager, Officers Mess

"You look like I feel," Zeke Brown said to Auraan. "Mind if I join you? We can commiserate together."

He was sitting before she could come up with an excuse. "I wasn't planning on company," she finally said.

"Oh, come on, Princess, have pity on a commoner."

She closed her eyes. "Please do not call me that."

"Why not? You are one, aren't you? It's on your record." He tested his soup and found it too hot. "Look, I had a lousy day and from the look on your face, so did you. Misery loves company and all that."

"I did not have a 'lousy' day. I had a very busy day, and I'm tired." She should leave, but somehow she couldn't make herself. "Why was your day so bad? I heard you did very well."

He shook his head. "Oh, yeah, I did just fine. It's still my first week on the job and I managed to screw up with the Captain. And probably Commander Tuvok, too, now that I think about it. Dr. Zimmerman was furious with me."

"Why?" At least she had only angered Commanders Torres and Paris.

He shrugged. "I called the Bridge to tell the Captain her husband had been injured. I knew we were in the middle of a crisis, but I assumed she'd want to know."

"That doesn't sound so bad to me." Then she had a thought. "You didn't do something incorrectly when treating him, did you?"

"No!" He looked shocked. "I just should have waited until the crisis was over."

"Oh. That still doesn't sound so bad."

He shrugged. "Maybe I'll feel that way tomorrow. So what put that look on your face? You should be celebrating. You're one of the heroes of the day."

"I don't feel like one," she said honestly. "Commander Paris was the one who did everything. I was just along for the ride."

"That's not right." He stirred his soup without trying to eat it. "From what I hear, every one of the co-pilots had to stay right on top of things to make it work."

"But I didn't think it would." She shook her head. "It was impossible to accomplish. It should have been impossible. I thought Commander Paris was crazy."

Zeke grinned. "Dr. Zimmerman says he is."

"Perhaps he has to be," Auraan said. "Perhaps that's how he does impossible things."

"That's getting pretty philosophical." He finally tried a taste of soup. "My turn. At the end of the day, we both learned something. That's better than screwing up and learning nothing."

She looked at him, trying to decide why she was still in this conversation. "I think you are a very odd man."

"Odd? That's a new one. Most people think I'm charming, until I put my foot in my mouth. I do that a lot. Why am I odd?"

"Because we have barely met, but you sit down and talk to me as if we were --" she caught the word 'peers' in time and substituted, "friends."

"How else do you make friends, Princess?"

"Please," she said, closing her eyes in frustration again, "don't call me that."

This time, if asked why not, she was going to tell him. She was going to tell him that "Princess" was an Earth term that wasn't used on Troyius. Her full title was "Her Serene Eminence, Daughter of the Royal House, Flower of the Sun and Petal of the Moon." She, her sisters and her female cousins were known collectively as the "Flowers." Not that she wanted to be called "Flower" on this ship, but at least it would be more accurate.

She was ready to answer his question, but instead he said, "Hey, Marie, Delia, we've got room here."

Opening her eyes she saw her roommate, Delia O'Brien, and Marie Stevens, the medtech who had checked her out this afternoon, approaching with trays.

Delia smiled at her. "Hello, Lieutenant. You were really in the thick of things today, weren't you?"

"Tell us about it," Marie said, sitting beside her.

Across the table, Zeke Brown smiled and Auraan was suddenly certain she'd been set up. The man, she decided, was definitely odd. But she had to admit, she was suddenly eager to talk about it. "Commander Paris was amazing," she began.

Alpha Quadrant -- USS Voyager -- Captain's Quarters

Kathryn flopped onto the sofa and threw her head back. The intensity of the past week was catching up with her. "So much for our quiet dinner."

Chakotay put an arm around her shoulder and, careful not to pressure his still-tender hands, pulled her into a snuggle. "I have a feeling we won't have many of those for a while."

"Today was unusual, I hope. We won't returning from an adventure like this one often." Leaning her head into the crook of his shoulder, she smiled. "You certainly seem to have made a new friend."

His chuckle was more of a rumble in his chest. Stann had come by their quarters to say good-bye, but ended up joining them for dinner. "He certainly liked the tum yum gai at dinner. I'm glad he's decided to join the colonists on Pioneer. So many of them have lost everything they had, I'm sure he'll find some kindred spirits."

"Oh," she said innocently, "I meant Prolak."

He squeezed her arm in playful protest. The Romulan had been their first unexpected visitor of the evening, dropping by ostensibly to convey the thanks of the Romulan government and say his farewells before returning to Pioneer himself. After delivering his message, though, he had lingered for no apparent reason. "That was strange. You know, I think he was hoping we'd invite him to stay on board -- or at least, to dinner."

"I had that feeling, too -- and I wasn't going to do it."

"Thank you. The man irritates me. You are sure he's leaving Voyager "

She smiled. "Consider it done. Maybe I should ask Miral. She seems to have quite an effect on him."

Miral and T'Pel had beamed back as soon as the ships were in transport range, and the little girl immediately insisted her parents take her to all her friends so she could see for herself they were all right. When the Parises dropped by, Miral had dashed straight to Chakotay and demanded a song. Prolak left about two seconds after that. Chakotay said, "She could probably handle it. She's got the rest of us wrapped around her finger."

Lifting her head to look at him, she asked, "Just where did you learn 'Froggy Went A-Courting,' anyway? And don't try to tell me it's an ancient legend of your people."

"My grandfather used to sing it. I can't even guess where he learned it." His fingers tightened a bit on her arm. "As impromptu dinner parties go, that one turned out well. It's good to see that Miral survived the separation with no ill effects." His good mood dissipated. "I hope you can say the same."

It was almost a non-sequitor since they hadn't been separated during the crisis, but she knew what he meant. Still, she was surprised by the sudden turn in the conversation. "What brought that up?"

"Thinking about Miral and Tom and B'Elanna, I suppose." His hand began to move restlessly up and down her arm, barely more than fingertips touching her. "It's hard when your duty to your ship and your duty to your family conflict."

"It is hard." She remembered how she felt in that moment on the Bridge, torn between her need to be with him in Sickbay and her need to save her ship and crew. He felt guilty enough without adding to his burden, so she added lightly, "But they certainly passed the test today with flying colors. And," she added, "so did we."

He was quiet, but she could feel his heart begin to pound and his entire body tense. "What?" she asked.

Even then he hesitated. "Would ... would it be better for you if I dropped out of the mission? I could get off at Deep Space 10 and find a position at a university or dig until you get back."

Shocked, she pulled away from his embrace. "Do you want to?"

"I don't want to make things harder for you, and I feel as if that's all I've done the last few days." He looked miserable. "You don't need that kind of distraction."

"But I do need you." She started to reach for his hand, remembered the Doctor's admonition for him to avoid pressure for a few more days and set her palm over his heart instead. "We knew there'd be times like this. Why would we change our minds when we've weathered it so well?"

He searched her face. "Have we really?"

She realized he knew she was holding back, and that by holding back she was making the incident more important than it really was. She had thought her silence would protect him, but that wasn't true. "Yes. I admit -- I had a bad moment when Dr. Brown called the Bridge. And I didn't know whether to kiss you or wring your neck when I came down to Sickbay and saw you chatting away with Prolak and Stann. But one thing I've learned from you is that I can't feel guilty about everything that happens."

"This won't be the last time," he said. "It's going to happen again. It's bound to. It's hard to remember I'm not part of the team any more, and I'm sure I'll bump up against the rules now and then."

"No, really?" She couldn't help smiling. "I know that. I knew that three Prixins ago, when I finally made my decision about you. A couple of rough moments haven't changed my mind. Have you changed yours?"

His expression softened. "Not in the least." He kissed her softly, and smiled. "Want to go to bed and cuddle?"

"You bet," she said. "I'm on my honeymoon."

Author's note

First, acknowledgement must be made to "The Doomsday Machine," the TOS episode by Norman Spinrad which tells the story of Kirk's planet-killer.

Next, apologies and thanks are due -- HUGE apologies to everyone for the long wait for this story. If I went through all the RL distractions that made me late, I'd just sound whiney -- and I don't want to sound whiney. Then there was the writer's block that seemed to last forever. Thanks to my fellow 7.5 staff writers who helped me work through the worst of it and renewed my enthusiasm for the story, and then offered wonderful suggestions to make it better. Most of all, thanks to all you readers who hung in there with us.

And we have a short story or two planned before the next big story, Disciples of Altruism.