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Chapter Text

Previously, on Star Trek: Voyager (Cavit Ro Alternate Retelling) Season Two...

Ensign Sahreen Lan’s Symbiont Offspring

After a “pregnancy” that involved intense memory flashbacks and even full-on hallucinations on the part of the host, Sahreen, the Lan symbiont’s offspring were “delivered” (with help from the Vidiian organ harvesting device Voyager gained from their first run-in with the Vidiians). They are placed in a specially constructed “pool” in Ensign Lan’s quarters, where it soon became clear the offspring needed “contact” through an electrochemical connection to someone immersed in the liquid. 

Ensign Michael Murphy, who Ensign Lan was now dating, alongside a group of Lan’s good friends—dubbed “the Village” after the phrase “It Takes a Village”—began taking turns keeping a hand in the pool to give the offspring the needed interaction.

Initially, Ensign Lan was worried the two offspring would spend years and years in the pool, given she was the only Trill on board and already joined. Later, however, quirks in the development of the offspring made it clear that the Caretaker didn’t just help the symbiont create offspring, but the alien had also adjusted the offspring to be able to join with Ocampa in an attempt to create new caretakers for the Ocampa. Given there are six Ocampa on board, it is likely the two symbionts, once they are mature enough, will be joined after all.

[See: Projections (Alternate), Parturition (Alternate) and Cold Fire (Alternate).]

Relationships Begin to Form

As months go by in the Delta Quadrant on Voyager, relationships have started to form among the crew. While the notable relationship between Lieutenant Scott Rollins and Lieutenant Pete Durst from Season One ended with Durst’s betrayal of Voyager, other relationships flourished.

Ensign Sahreen Lan began dating Ensign Michael Murphy, after a symbiont-pregnancy induced hallucination made her realize just how much she was repeating the patterns of her previous hosts and not allowing herself a chance to explore her feelings over the handsome—and compassionate—stellar cartographer.

Most surprisingly to many of the crew was a relationship that formed between one of the Ocampa, Daggin, and Ensign T’Prena, the Vulcan Nurse, which coincided with the sudden onset of ‘the Elogium’ among all the Ocampa. Months later, T’Prena would give birth to a single half-Vulcan, half-Ocampa son. By the end of the year, the boy developed to more-or-less the state of a ten year old human.

The other Ocampa also had to come face-to-face with their relationships—or lack thereof—during the Elogium, though none of the others chose to have children at this early state. Kes and Crewman Li-Paz, originally having butted heads in Doctor Fitzgerald’s training classes, have since formed become a couple, and at the end of 2371, Abol admitted his feelings for Lieutenant Zandra Taitt, who confirmed them. Before the end of 2372, they have moved into her quarters together. Cir and Eru are together, and Gara realized her nascent relationship with Ensign Doug Bronowski wasn’t romantic, but platonic, and the two shifted to a close friendship instead.

When Voyager accidentally released Q (a different Q than the one who interacted with the Enterprise-D) from a prison the rest of the Continuum had placed him in, Q (the one who had interacted with the Enterprise-D) altered Doctor Jeff Fitzgerald to be aware of multiple temporal “resets” so he could judge the character of this released Q, who wished to end his own life. In the process, the Enterprise-Q made multiple references in private to Fitzgerald’s feelings for Aaron Cavit, forcing Fitzgerald to consider those feelings—and ultimate decide he needed to step away from them, given how often Cavit noted his desire not to let a relationship affect his primary role as Voyager’s Captain, especially in light of Durst’s betrayal which, in part, included seducing and manipulating Lieutenant Rollins. When Voyager was joined by a group of Trabe refugees, Fitzgerald began a relationship with one of the Trabe, a man named Dimur, with whom he initially connected over them both being injured and forced to adjust their lives given their disabilities, but eventually admitted to having feelings that went deeper when they were isolated during a ship-wide disaster. Ultimately, Fitzgerald confessed he held back when he saw loss on the horizon, but he and Dimur decided to move forward—and had over a month of being together before the Trabe decided to remain at the Kohl Settlement.

Fitzgerald didn’t remain single long, however. He and Captain Cavit ended up stranded on a planet after being exposed to a lethal virus that the local environment held at bay. After spending a month and a half on the planet—and not having any shipboard reasons to hold back—Fitzgerald and Cavit finally admitted their feelings for each other. Thereafter, Fitzgerald found a cure for their disease, and the two managed to “catch up” to Voyager by doubling back to a Sikarian planet and with the help of dissident allies using the spatial trajector technology to get slightly ahead of Voyager when Voyager was due to potentially pass by Dedestria—a gamble that paid off when Voyager did, indeed, stop there to trade, restoring them to their places on Voyager nearly three months after they’d left, but now as a couple.

Other romantic relationships that began or continued include Ensign Tricia Jenkins and Crewman Christopher Vance, Crewman Atara Ram and Crewman Steven Niles, Ensign Richard Bennet and Ensign Lydia Macormack, Ensign Louis Culhane and Ensign Mary Harper, and Crewman Frank Darwin and Ensign Deborah Lang.

[See: Projections (Alternate), Elogium (Alternate), Death Wish (Alternate), Alliances (Alternate), Deadlock (Alternate), and Resolutions (Alternate).]

Humans in the Delta Quadrant

Voyager followed clues left by a spatial distortion alien to find themselves among humans in the Delta Quadrant—a planet, Arde, where three hundred humans abducted in 1937 resulted in what is now three cities of their descendants. Though they offered to allow any of the people on board Voyager to stay, none chose to do so. Voyager was also gifted with an amount of kelbonite-fistrium composite material that absorbed sensors, and—most importantly to Doctor Fitzgerald—six Kona coffee trees.

[See: The 37s (Alternate).]

The Kazon and the Kazon Alliance

Multiple times in 2372, Voyager found itself face-to-face with various Kazon sects. They had a run-in with a Kazon-Ogla youth, Kar, who attempted to destroy a shuttle containing the four Bajoran members of Voyager’s crew during a Bajoran rite. Instead, Commander Ro Laren, Crewman Atara Ram, Crewman Li-Paz, and Crewman Celes Tal rescued the boy from his own less-than-successful attempt and later, when he helped them escape from the Kazon-Ogla First Maje—and now an outcast from his people—Ro and Cavit offered Kar a place on Voyager, where he gravitated towards Lieutenant Rollins as the closest analog to a “warrior” in his mind. Over the following months, he offered local insight—especially when Voyager was confronted by other Kazon—he asked to join Fitzgerald’s classes, but has yet to pass the entrance requirement tests for an enlisted crewman, though he continues to study.

Later, Pete Durst, who allied with the Kazon-Nistrim after betraying Voyager in an attempt to barter technology for passage through Kazon space, make a return by faking injury and a “damaged” Aeroshuttle. Durst tricked and kidnapped Lieutenant Rollins, gaining access to medical supplies he needed for his lung transplant, and also stole a transporter module. Captain Cavit, realized he had three skillsets to work with: Cing’ta’s intelligence training (which Durst wouldn’t know about), Ro’s advanced tactical training—and Maquis tricks—and the crew’s Starfleet know-how. This multi-pronged response that not only recovered Rollins, but denied Durst the replicator and transporter technology, which he was hoping to use to ally multiple Kazon sects into an alliance. Voyager’s rescue plan included using half of the Arde sensor absorbing composite to coat the Cochrane, turning the ship into a stealth shuttle when running at very low levels of power. Unfortunately, it wasn’t possible to recover and dock the Aeroshuttle, so instead they kept control of it long enough to place hidden program that would update Voyager any time the Aeroshuttle made a course correction. Regardless, Durst managed to create an alliance between the Nistrim and three of the lesser sects: the Kazon-Pommar, the Kazon-Hobii, and the Kazon-Mostral—and claimed to have already allied with Voyager, which only made the other Kazon sects more likely to attack Voyager, given this “alliance” meant they believed Federation technology was spreading among their now allied enemies.

This new Kazon Alliance cost Voyager three more crew—Crewman Coleman Lewis, Crewman Chuck Jones, and Crewman Liam Santos—in increasing raids and attacks from Kazon sects outside the Alliance, which was what Durst wanted: for Captain Cavit to feel he had no choice but to come to the Alliance. Durst hosted a meeting of the First Majes of the smaller sects on a planet called Sobras to increase his Alliance, and Captain Cavit came up with a plan—he reached out to Kar’s former First Maje from the Kazon-Ogla, Jal Razik—who hadn’t attacked Voyager since Kar came aboard and who Cavit believed wise enough to see the reality ahead of them if the Alliance continued to gain power—and they presented a unified front at Sobras, making it clear Voyager and the Kazon-Ogla would sign their own non-aggression pact. On Sobras, however, they learned that a major leader of the Trabe (the people who had once enslaved the Kazon), Mabus, and another group, the Krowtonan Guard, had also joined this Alliance, and then Mabus attempted to assault Cavit and Jal Razik. Cavit and Razik were rescued in part through the actions of Kar, and before Jal Razik left to warn his people of the incoming, larger, Alliance, he gave Kar his name: Jal Karden, though Karden remained on Voyager given his goven status. Voyager also gained four Trabe ships as allies, who couldn’t explain Mabus’s decision and didn’t agree with it at all.

Later, when it became clear that the Kazon Alliance was gaining information from Voyager somehow, Captain Cavit, Commander Ro, and Lieutenants Cing’ta and Rollins worked on the problem trying to track down the leak, at first wondering if it might be Karden himself, or one of their Trabe allies on the four ships that joined them, but ultimately it was revealed the traitor was the Emergency Medical Hologram, who didn’t even know his program had been altered via his backup module when Durst’s people had been in Sickbay during his theft of medical supplies months earlier. The holographic doctor had even been unconsciously trying to nudge Doctor Fitzgerald away from Sickbay by reminding him he could perform duties Fitzgerald could no longer do as a way to gain more access to the crew for information. Once this was exposed, however, the crew realized they had an opportunity, and programmed a work around so the hologram could instead be a double agent, and feed false information to the Kazon Alliance thereafter.

Later, the crew would also learn the Kazon Alliance had defeated and destroyed the Kazon-Relora, one of only three remaining non-alliance sects. Also, the Alliance has set up a full network of subspace relays, allowing them organize on a scale never before seen in Kazon space. The net around Voyager seemed to be growing too tight to escape.

[See: Initiations (Alternate), Maneuvers (Alternate), Investigations (Alternate), and Innocence (Alternate).]

New Allies, New Crew

After encountering—and accidentally damaging—a Cravic vessel, a Cravic Automated Personnel Unit realized Lieutenant Alexander Honigsberg and his team could help them create new Automated Personnel Units to fight their war with the Praylor. They abducted Honigsberg as well as other members of Voyager’s crew (most notably Crewman Kimble Meyer, a former-Maquis truly gifted at programming), and threatened to destroy Voyager unless they succeeded in creating a new unit, which they did. However, thanks to quick thinking from Honigsberg and Meyer’s skill, they included the EMH’s ethical subroutine in the new programming centres—and spread the same programming among any of the Cravic who took part in creating new units—and then repeated the process with the Praylor when a Praylor vessel arrived to attack the Cravic. In giving both sides of the war an ethical desire to do no harm, Honigsberg hoped to have done enough to repair the damage he’d done in helping the Cravic learn to make new units. In the end, Voyager picked up a new crewmember in the form of an Automated Personnel Unit, 1106, which the other Cravic believed was “incomplete” since it hadn’t retained its core programming.

After the failed Kazon Alliance attempt on Voyager and the Kazon-Ogla at Sobras, Voyager also gained new allies in the form of four Trabe ships—nearly three hundred new people—though these ships were running on skeleton crews of adults who were looking after children and young adults. The four Trabe ships, led by Adné, and including Doctor Fitzgerald’s eventual romantic partner Dimur, would remain with Voyager for months. Doctor Fitzgerald helped restore their medical readiness, and even expanded his teaching role to young adults among their ships, helping them to learn emergency medical procedures, since the Trabe themselves had only two trained medical personnel among the four ships. The Trabe ships even came to the rescue when Voyager was nearly boarded by a Vidiian cruiser, and it was only through their combined efforts that Voyager and the Trabe managed to escape. Eventually, the Trabe would choose to make a new life for themselves among the Kolhari—new allies Voyager would meet and trade with on two occasions—at the Kohl Settlement after Voyager rescued the only three survivors of a natural disaster on the Settlement, and Voyager was once again moving forward on her own.

Mid way through 2372, Voyager managed to locate the remains of the T’Vran, a Vulcan Science Ship that had been attacked and boarded. Only one lifesign remained, a Vulcan Lieutenant, Setok, but he was in a coma and dying. Unable to resuscitate him, Nurse T’Prena and her mate, Daggin, performed a mind meld to learn what happened to his ship and crew—and, though they’ve kept it to themselves, take his katra back to his daughters—and they learned the full story of the Vulcan ship’s time in the Delta Quadrant before Setok passed away. The combination of mind meld and Ocampa photographic memory has left Setok’s experiences in Daggin’s memory, rather than fading over time. They also learned three of the members of the T’Vran crew were unaccounted for, and those crew were later recovered when they encountered the Cardassian ship also drawn to the Delta Quadrant by the Caretaker, which had attacked the T’Vran and taken the three remaining crew prisoner. Those three survivors—Velar, a Vulcan science officer; Kaurit, a Vulcan engineer who has been mostly blinded by radiation damage; and Yareth, a Rakhari passenger—joined Voyager thereafter. When Daggin and T’Prena gave birth to their son, they named him Setok in honour of the Vulcan lieutenant.  

For about a little over a week, Voyager also had a Vidiian passenger and ally, Doctor Danara Pel, who unfortunately lost her battle with the Phage despite the medical staff—and especially the Emergency Medical Hologram—doing everything they could for her. 

Voyager would also trade—albeit with a low profile—at a Sikarian planet, Tekestria, when a small group of Voyager crew who hadn’t spent any time on Sikaris the previous year took the modified Vidiian shuttle Danara Pel left behind after her death, which the crew renamed ‘the Pel.’

[See: Prototype (Alternate), Alliances (Alternate), Deadlock (Alternate), The Thaw (Alternate), Meld (Alternate), Dreadnought (Alternate), Tuvix (Alternate), Lifesigns (Alternate), Innocence (Alternate).] 

Another Timeline

Lieutenant Alexander Honigsberg and Ensign Sahreen Lan found themselves on the wrong end of a quantum event and ended up in another quantum reality: a timeline where Honigsberg didn’t become the chief engineer of Voyager, and the Li Nalas wasn’t the ship the Caretaker swept away to the Delta Quadrant. Both managed to find each other, alongside Honigsberg’s Alpha Quadrant off-again, on-again partner Trooper Patrick Reese and this timeline’s version of Lieutenant Cing’ta, during the events of the Klingon invasion of Cardassia. They stole the Amundsen, the Captain’s Yacht of the USS Venture (the ship Hongisberg was assigned to in this timeline) and used the wormhole to get themselves back where they belonged, taking the Yacht with them, which was disassembled for component parts, given its lack of warp drive. 

Later in the year, Voyager struck a quantum scission, and Lieutenant Zandra Taitt found herself having to cross through five other alternate timeline versions of Voyager to free the various ships from the gravimetric lattice around the scission. One of those ships was from the same timeline Lan and Honigsberg had visited, and Honigsberg met his counterpart—Chief Engineer Mark Lasca—face to face during the event.

A third interaction with the same timeline would occur when the precise lining up of space, time, and quantum resonance meant a transporter accident sent Ensign Sahreen Lan and Crewman Daggin to the other version of Voyager, while Voyager instead beamed up two of the other Voyager’s crew: Neelix and Lieutenant Tuvok, who were also merged into one being. The crew eventually figured out a way to send this new being, who called himself Tuvix, back to his Voyager, while also returning Lan and Daggin back to where they belonged.

[See: Non Sequitur (Alternate), Deadlock (Alternate), Tuvix (Alternate).]

The Ocampa “Chorus”

Multiple times, the six Ocampa on board Voyager—Kes, Daggin, Abol, Eru, Cir, and Gara—showed great potential in their telepathic abilities. Both Lieutenant Veronica Stadi and Nurse T’Prena worked with the Ocampa to help them hone and explore their abilities, including prescience, empathy, and telepathy.   

During an attempted telepathic attack on Voyager by the Botha, the Ocampa not only fended off the attack but followed the Botha back to their homeworld with a kind of group telepathic projection. 

Their abilities grew even more impressive after Voyager encountered the Caretaker’s former mate, Suspiria—and an entire, smaller array full of Ocampa. Those Ocampa showed the Voyager Ocampa they could, if they worked together, display psychokinetic abilities as well as a mastery over the force of life itself. When Voyager realized the Caretaker’s mate wanted vengeance—she believed Voyager had murdered the Caretaker, and also wanted the Lan symbiont’s offspring, believing they were for the Ocampa (which turned out to be true)—but eventually Voyager reached a stalemate with Suspiria, she vanished, and Voyager moved on, but Kes and the other Ocampa realized they could still accomplish greater telepathic and psychokinetic abilities when they worked together in what they called “a chorus.”

They later used this “Chorus” to reach across multiple realities of Voyager not once, but twice—first to help T’Prena stay warm during her difficult pregnancy while Voyager was suffering power loss due to a quantum scission, and then again when they needed to co-ordinate with Kes and Daggin on the alternate-timeline Voyager to bring Ensign Lan and Crewman Daggin back to the right Voyager. 

[See: Persistence of Vision (Alternate), Cold Fire (Alternate), Deadlock (Alternate), Tuvix (Alternate).]

The Enhanced Dilithium

The discovery of an enhanced dilithium that resonated at a much higher temperature and capable of creating a much more efficient—if small—warp field resulted in Voyager’s shuttles all being redesigned to achieve high warp speeds, up to warp eight for short durations. This vastly increased Voyager’s ability to scout ahead and their reach for trade missions, but Lieutenant Honigsberg doesn’t believe he can recrystallize the dilithium to the same level once it breaks down, which means eventually, the shuttles will return to their previous maximums of warp three or four, depending on their type. Still, in the meanwhile, it’s an advantage.

Since then, one of the shuttles, the Drake, was lost when Doctor Fitzgerald and Captain Cavit had to trade it to gain access to the spatial trajector to return to Voyager after they cured their illness on the planet where they were left behind, and another was destroyed while all the shuttles attempted to escape the final Kazon attack on Voyager at the end of 2372. 

[See: Threshold (Alternate), Resolutions (Alternate), Basics, Part One (Alternate).]

Doctor Fitzgerald and Lieutenant Cing’ta’s Second Cadet Classes

The original group of students under Doctor Fitzgerald’s training program graduated within eight months of starting their training. Samuel Stiles was made a Lieutenant Junior Grade and became an alternate Bridge Officer, while Kes, Abol, and Daggin were officially granted Crewman status on board Voyager as a Medic, Stellar Scientist, and Botanist respectively. 

A second glass began thereafter, made up of the three remaining Ocampa—Cir, Gara, and Eru, who began training in Linguistics, Diplomacy, and Anthropology respectively—as well as four new Maquis: Margareta Crenshaw (a security officer), Debra Rogers (a former civil engineer), Kimble Meyer (who, while a gifted programmer, had little other training), and Jean Hajar (who was a Starfleet Academy drop-out who repeated her third year). This new group is being taught not only by Doctor Fitzgerald, but also Lieutenant Cing’ta, who taught tactical and security classes on Bolarus.

(See: Dreadnought (Alternate) and Lifesigns (Alternate).)

The Emergency Medical Hologram

The Emergency Medical Hologram had a romance when Voyager recovered Doctor Danara Pel from her shuttle when she was dying and unconscious, and managed to transfer her consciousness into a holographic form. While they were unable to stop the progression of her disease and she passed on after little over a week, the medical hologram asked to be left with the ability to turn itself on and off so it could further work on researching a cure for the Phage. 

Shortly thereafter, the EMH’s “unconscious spy” programming was uncovered—in part because his ability to operate on his own schedule meant an up-tick in the information he was sending to the Kazon Alliance—and he began his life as a “double-agent,” feeding false information to the Alliance.

When Doctor Fitzgerald and Captain Cavit had to remain behind on a planet due to their viral infection, the hologram finally chose a name for itself: Doctor Emmett Hall, the name Fitzgerald had come up with for the program. The gesture was not lost on Fitzgerald. Dr. Hall took on the role of Chief Medical Officer for the three months Fitzgerald was gone from Voyager. He has kept the name since.

When Durst and the Kazon-Nistrim boarded Voyager near the end of the year, Doctor Fitzgerald had Dr. Hall beam the Lan symbiont’s offspring into the morgue, where he could mask their lifesigns and ensure the occupying force didn’t find them, as well as altering the medical files so it appeared the offspring had been successfully joined with Trabe who are no longer with the ship. 

[See: Lifesigns (Alternate), Investigations (Alternate), Resolutions (Alternate).]

The Collapse of the Kazon Alliance

Near the end of 2372, something seemed to shift wildly in the Kazon Alliance, and Voyager’s sensors began to make it clear the Kazon Alliance was trying to close its borders and capture Voyager before it could escape—except Lieutenant Stadi realized it wasn’t Voyager the Alliance was after, but the Aeroshuttle. Kazon were attacking their own within the Nistrim sect, and Durst seemed to be on the run. Voyager reduced speed to warp two and adjusted their warp profile to blend in among the various Kazon Alliance vessels on long-range scanners and traced the Aeroshuttle’s path—eventually finding and bringing aboard a Kazon-Nistrim survivor, Teirna, who explained how some of the Kazon-Nistrim had sabotaged their ship and Durst and First Maje Jal Culluh had barely gotten away. Teirna’s shuttle had been overloaded to create a particular signal—the reason for which Voyager’s crew didn’t know, and, it turned out, was programmed by Durst, so Teirna couldn’t enlighten them either—and the crew prepared to make one last attempt to recover the Aeroshuttle by appealing to Durst and Culluh that they’d have a better chance of surviving together. 

Durst and Culluh didn’t respond, but when Voyager tried to make a break for the border of Kazon Alliance space, they were ambushed. While they had a series of tricks ready, they were overwhelmed by sheer numbers and firepower. Voyager had launched all seven of its shuttles under the command of Lieutenant Stadi—including the Pel—to fight off boarding fighters, but Captain Cavit ordered them to get free, providing cover for their escape. At least one was destroyed in the escape attempt. 

When it became clear the Kazon Alliance were going to board and take control of Voyager, Captain Cavit began to order the self destruct, but at that moment, one of the Kazon Predator classes exploded in close proximity to Voyager and knocked Cavit unconscious, as well as knocking the computer offline. The Aeroshuttle, with Durst and Culluh and other raiders and fighters arrived, and they took control of Voyager.

Durst stranded the former Maquis, Lieutenant Cing’ta, and Kes on a desolate, hot, and dry planet, and then stranded most of the Starfleet crew on another, more hospitable planet—though to these crew he promised to return once the Kazon-Nistrim are restored to power and he can provide them safe passage out of Kazon space.  

Lieutenant Rollins, however, woke up in the brig, though Durst’s reason for keeping him on Voyager is unclear. 

When Captain Cavit regained consciousness, Doctor Fitzgerald explained their dire state, but he also mentioned Lieutenant Honigsberg left a ‘surprise’ for the Kazon on Voyager. 

Unknown to anyone, Jal Karden was overlooked, and is hiding in the Jeffries tubes. 

Whatever Durst and Culluh’s plans are to reclaim control of the Kazon-Nistrim, and then the Alliance, they now have Voyager to help accomplish their goal…

[See: Basics, Part One (Alternate).]

Chapter Text

On a planet she couldn’t even name, the hot wind and bright sun teaming up to turn the rocky, scrubby terrain into an oven that baked her from above and below, Lieutenant Commander Ro Laren watched as Kes seemed to have a one-sided conversation with thin air.

 It only seemed that way, of course. She knew full well Kes was speaking with the rest of the Ocampa, and from the sound of Kes’s half of the conversation, sharing impressions of the hot, dry world they’d been beamed to. Kes spoke quickly, out loud and seeming to notice all sorts of things at once: the gravity, the temperature…

“Thank you,” Kes said finally, and then she stopped speaking, turning to face the two dozen former Maquis, though her eyes went to Li-Paz after barely a moment.

“They’re gone,” Kes said. “But I think they have enough to locate us again.” 

“That was very brave, Kes,” Ro said, cutting off Li-Paz who’d opened his mouth and—she would have bet—about to say something he’d regret later. She turned to the group. “Now that we know they know where to come find us, our job is to survive.” She paused. “Anyone injured?”

“Steven took a disruptor hit,” Atara Ram said, and Ro saw the Bajoran engineer had one arm around his partner, Steven Niles. Niles, for his part, didn’t look too bad, but there was a visible scorch mark now she knew to look for it, down near his left side of his stomach.

Kes and Rebecca Sullivan were already moving to his side.

“T’Prena had enough time to clean it before we had to leave Sickbay,” Niles said, wincing as he lifted his undershirt to show them the wound. “Anderson was worse hit than me—the Kazon had their disruptors on their lowest setting.”

Ro gave the man a small nod—the burn was still bad enough for them to worry about, and Lydia Anderson was still on Voyager. Niles wasn’t.

“Okay,” Ro said, stepping to one side to give Niles at least a facsimile of privacy while Kes and Sullivan examined him.  She held up one hand, ticking off three fingers. “Water. Shelter. Food.” She eyed them each in turn. “That’s what’s important now, and in that order, given the heat.” She took a breath, giving them a moment or two to process, and then said, “Also tools, firewood, anything we can use.”

“Speaking of,” Sahreen Lan said, reaching down and pulling a small spool of opticable from her boot. “How many of you managed to grab anything? Let’s see what we’ve got to work with.” The Trill woman handed the spool to Ro, and Ro turned it over in her hand. If nothing else, they could use the cable as rope. 

Grabbing whatever they could had been a last-minute idea Ro’d had, and inspired by something Celes Tal had done nearly a year ago when they’d been attacked by Karden and taken aboard a Kazon-Ogla ship. The Bajoran technician—who often had an odd way of looking at the world—had hidden a communicator in her hair. When Ro had theorized the Maquis were going to be beamed away, she’d realized they needed to prepare, but given they’d all been trapped in the Cargo Bays at the time, and under the watchful eyes of armed Kazon warriors on the upper levels, “prepare” had been limited to a quick order to try to grab only what could be hidden without being noticed.

Nearly half of them had succeeded, but the results, pulled from sleeves and boots for the most part, weren’t much to look at.

Li-Paz managed to grab a pair of anodyne relays, the engineer noting they could be used to make sparks, if nothing else. Lora Schmidt had two sealed packets of empty hypospray vials, one in each boot. Gavin Nelson had managed to grab a tube of sealant. Four of the others had managed to tuck themselves into one corner of Cargo Bay Three out of the direct line of sight of Kazon long enough to each take a small biological sample kit. Ro’s own contribution—a hastily pocketed microspanner—could at least cut the opticable. Finally, Renna Bogdanowicz pulled a thirty-centimetre wide roll of black fabric from her sleeve, which Rebecca Sullivan said she could use right away on Niles.

 “Roberto, Crenshaw?” Ro said, gesturing to Avery Roberto and Margareta Crenshaw to come closer, both of whom she remembered having survival skills honed in dry, arid environments. Her own knowledge wasn’t limited, but she was definitely going to take their guidance. “What’s our best move?”

Less than five minutes later, they’d picked a rendezvous point along a cliff-face they could see from where they were, and broke up into smaller groups to scout, gather, and collect with specific goals in mind. Before they left, Sullivan reminded them all to pace themselves—pushing would only speed up dehydration—and Ro tried to keep a mental eye on the planet’s star, wondering how much more light they had before night fell. 

*

Sahreen Lan had never enjoyed camping, not once over four lives. She quickly realized her skills in regards to what faced them were almost entirely from her previous host Dolay Lan’s survival classes at Starfleet Academy, but Dolay had taken his training under arctic conditions, at one of the Academy Training Camps on Earth’s southern polar continent. 

But, as the sun began to dip to the horizon, Lan could feel the temperature already starting to drop, and realized the planet was about to offer them a serious swing in the temperature department. 

I hope the offspring are okay.

No. She didn’t have time for that thought. Abol had told her Doctor Fitzgerald had managed to hide the offspring. They were safe. Safer than her, that was for sure.

“Okay,” she said to her group, which consisted of herself, Renna Bogdanowicz, Evander Dimitris, and Kimble Meyer. “Let’s head back to the cliff-face before the sun goes down.” She looked at the group, noting the way Bogdanowicz’s lips were thinned the way she did when she was trying to pilot a shuttle on fumes, her brown eyes were aimed mostly at the ground. Meyer hadn’t said much of anything while they’d gathered wood, either, and while that wasn’t exactly unusual for him, Dimitris’s usually booming voice had also been rare, and she realized she needed to get out of her own thoughts long enough to rally the troops. 

“We’ve got a lot to show for our effort here,” Lan said, lifting her own bundle of wood. “And we’re only going to improve our situation.” 

“Right,” Dimitris said, with something closer to his usual verve for, well, everything. The stocky, bearded man had often struck her as too boisterous during their time in the Maquis, but she was glad for it now. “One step at a time,” he said, nodding at her. 

They started back for the meeting place, the tall and lean Bogdanowicz in the lead, and she soon felt she’d been right to set them off when she did—the sun was setting behind them and their visibility was shrinking. There was still no sign of any moon, and if this planet didn’t have one, starlight wasn’t going to be much to work with. 

The temperature continued to drop. 

“Sahreen,” Meyer’s voice was sudden, and a surprise, given how quiet the slim man usually was. He’d been at the rear, and when she turned to look at him—harder to spot now the sun was nearly below the horizon—she realized he’d stopped walking.

“What’s wrong?” she said, moving back to join him. 

He pointed. “Fires.” 

She turned and looked and… he was right. Dotted, on the other side of the flat, scrub-like plain, she saw the dots of light, what could only be fires, given how the light flickered and changed—and, unless she was mistaken—figures moved around them. 

“It looks like we’re not alone on this planet,” Bogdanowicz said. She peered into the darkness at the small points of firelight, her faint accent a little more noticeable than usual. A sign of stress, maybe, Lan thought. 

“Do we think they’re friendly?” Dimitris said. “It’s possible Durst beamed us down to a Kazon planet.”

“If they did,” Lan said. “Then chances are ‘friendly’ won’t be the right word. Let’s get back to the camp. We need to let everyone know.”

They picked up the pace, though they kept in mind Sullivan’s warning about pushing it. They didn’t speak again until they saw their people, gathered in a fissure that created a natural hollow and overhang along the cliff’s face, with two fires already set, and people already warming themselves beside them. She spotted Avery Roberto and Margareta Chrenshaw working together to cover a series of holes with the black cloth along the outside of the leading edge of the cliff, talking Kevin Tsao and Lora Schmidt through the process while they worked on another. 

Solar stills, Lan realized. With a little luck, they’d have water in the morning.

How did two dozen people manage to look like so few? 

Lan handed the wood she’d gathered to Rogers and Hawks—Ro had put them in charge of working on their shelter, and it looked like they already had a fairly basic lean-to frame set up on one side of the fire—then went to find Ro.

It didn’t take long. Ro stood just a few paces away from the cliff’s face, staring out into the darkening night.

“You’ll need to come sit by the fire,” Lan said. “It’s getting cold, fast.”

Ro nodded, glancing at her. “You’re the last back. How did it go?”

“We found wood—mostly broken branches from those shrubs. We did a bit of digging like Crenshaw suggested, but didn’t find wet soil.” She took a breath. “We did, however, see fires on our walk back.”

Ro turned to her. “Cing’s group did, too.”

“Do we know if they’re Kazon?” Lan said.

“No,” Ro shook her head. “But I think we’ll need to find out. Maybe in the morning.” 

“How’s Steven?” Lan said.

“Sullivan said he’ll be okay, so long as they manage to keep the burns clean and free of infection. He’s going to be in some pain, but…” She lifted one shoulder, then shivered. “You’re right. It’s getting cold.”

“You might have to order everyone to share body heat,” Lan said. 

“This feels a little like the old days, a little, doesn’t it?” Ro said, turning to face her and by the wan dredges of the firelight, Lan could see a small smile playing at the corner of her lips.

Lan chuckled. “The first few nights in the mine. Before we had heaters and light.” She’d been thinking about that, too. 

“Let’s go,” Ro said. “You need to warm up, too.” 

They headed back to camp, and found a spot near one of the fires. Lan closed her eyes for a moment, letting the heat of the fire against her eyelids take all of her consciousness. Otherwise, she’d start thinking about everything they were facing, and her symbiont’s offspring hidden in Sickbay—bless Doctor Fitzgerald, she owed that man—and a certain science officer with a dented chin. 

Who, she vowed silently, she would see again.

Chapter Text

“How are we doing?” Lieutenant Veronica Stadi said, glancing up from the conn panel of the Cochrane, before dropping her gaze back to the sensor readings of the other shuttles. She really didn’t like what she was seeing from the Kondakova, especially—her warp field was barely aligned—and she desperately wanted to check in on the Pel. “Do we have time to stop and take stock and maybe do some repairs?”

“One Alliance patrol ship is still trying to chase us down,” Ensign Ahni Jetal said, from the ops position beside her. She was a slight woman, with dark hair and pretty brown eyes and a tendency to a positive attitude. She was also one of the most talented shuttle engineers Stadi had ever worked with, and she trusted her instincts. “It’s one of the Krowtonan Guard ships, though it’s a smaller vessel. Most of the others seem to have scattered since Durst and Culluh’s announcement.” She took a breath, and Stadi felt Jetal forcing her thoughts away from dwelling on Voyager being in the hands of the Kazon-Nistrim, and turning her attention back to their immediate problem. “If the Kondakova stays out of it…” She lifted one shoulder.

“The Pel, too,” Stadi said. “Open a channel to the other shuttles.”

Jetal tapped in the command. “Channel open.”

“Stadi to all shuttles,” Stadi said. “We’ve got one last ship tailing us, and it’s not giving up. We’re going to do this with speed and precision. Macormack, Kalita, Jenkins, we’re going to drop out of warp to intercept and then get back underway. I want this to be a strafing run: Jemison and Cochrane will target the patrol ship’s weapons, the Kelly and the Yang focus on its engines. Baytart, Vance, I don’t want you two involved, you keep going.”

The acknowledgements came quickly, even from Vance, which only went to underscore the issues the Kondakova must be having after taking those disruptor hits. Pablo Baytart’s answer lacked his usual effusiveness. She wanted to ask Baytart about Ensign Sharr and Crewman Biddle, but it wasn’t the time for potential bad news. She needed everyone focused. They needed to stop, to catch their breath, and to make repairs. 

And to do that they needed the damn Kazon Alliance ship off their backs.

“On my mark, drop out of warp and come about, shields and weapons ready,” she said, and counted it down. 

It didn’t take long for the Krowtonan Guard ship to appear with the tell-tale flare of dropping out of warp. The ship itself was sleeker than the rest of the Kazon Alliance ships, which were of Trabe design. The Krowtonan Guard built ships something closer to a Federation style: the ship had twin nacelles mounted to a narrow  arrow-head body, almost reminding her of a raider-class vessel, albeit without the aerodynamic wings. 

Far more heavily armed, however, and even moreso since Pete Durst had taught the Kazon Alliance a thing or two about torpedo design. 

“They’re powering weapons,” Jetal said.

“Here we go,” Stadi said, keeping her voice even and calm. “Kelly, Yang, you take starboard; Jemison, you and I are heading to port. Stick close. We don’t want them using their torpedoes.”

“On our way,” Ensign Kalita said from the Kelly as it and the Yang curved away from them.

A moment later, they were in the fray, Krowtonan phasers lashing out and rocking the Cochrane with a pair of hits that had Jetal working to keep the shields in place even as she aimed and fired the shuttle’s phasers in return. Stadi tried to give her a clear line of fire, even as she dodged and weaved a second volley of energy bursts, until Jetal let out a satisfied, “There!” and glanced her way. “Their shields are buckling.” 

“Hear that, everyone?” Stadi said.

“Coming about,” Jenkins said. 

Stadi watched the Yang loop back around, the type eight shuttle pinpointing the starboard nacelle of the patrol ship with a trio of precise bursts while dodging two of the three phaser hits aimed her way. 

“Targeting their phaser emitters,” Jetal said. “Firing.” This time, a series of small eruptions declared the end of the dorsal emitters along the Krowtonan ship.

“One more pass,” Stadi declared, and the quartet of shuttles looped around again.  

“Lieutenant!” Jetal said.

Whether out of desperation or malice, the Krowtonan ship launched a single torpedo their way, but Stadi sent the Cochrane into a tight spin away from the weapon, which passed by only metres from the hull of the shuttle. When she righted her approach, she saw the other three shuttles had already split, and both nacelles of the patrol ship were venting plasma and running dark. 

“They’re not going anywhere soon,” Jetal said, looking up from her sensors.

“Excellent job everyone,” Stadi said. “Now lets rendezvous the Pel and the Kondakova and find ourselves somewhere to hunker down long enough to make repairs.”

“I’m seeing a gas giant we could use,” Ensign Kaplan said from the Jemison. “In the closest star system at four-seven mark oh-three.” 

Stadi glanced at her navigational sensors and nodded, even though Kaplan couldn’t see the gesture. “Looks perfect. You hear that, Pel, Kondakova?”

“We did,” Baytart responded for the both of them. “We’re adjusting course. See you there, Lieutenant.”

She closed the channel and set in the new heading and jumping right to warp five. She glanced at Jetal. “Any damage to worry about?”

“It’ll take me some time to get the shields back, and I might need to hop outside in a suit to realign the port thruster, but you know me. I like zero-G.” Jetal gave Stadi a small smile. 

Stadi exhaled, returning the smile. “Good thing we packed the EV suits, then, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Jetal said. Then her smile faltered. “Lieutenant, what’s the next move? After repairs, I mean.”

“Allies,” Stadi said. “The next move is allies.”

*

Lieutenant Alexander Honigsberg eyed his latest engineering creation and let out a short breath of pride. 

“Behold,” he said, rubbing his goatee with one hand. “We have invented… the roof.” 

A rectangular frame, the “roof” in question had been created by two layers of half-circular, bamboo-like wood laid out lengthwise, the first layer cup-side-up, the second cup-side-down, alternating to form a rain-resistant whole. The blue-green bamboo-analog—which Honigsberg had taken to calling “shamboo”—grew all over the island they’d been left on, and was easily their best option to work with.

At least so far.

To either side of him, Ensign Ikuko Kyoto and Lieutenant Brian Hargrove bore similar expressions of accomplishment. The two had been helping Honigsberg work on one roof while Ensign Freddy Bristow and Crewman Andreas Murphy—otherwise known as Serious Murphy—helped his assistant engineer, Lieutenant Susan Nicoletti with the other.

Well, “teach” might have been a better word than “help,” but the end result was the same. Kyoto, Hargrove, Bristow, and Murphy had all, apparently, decided at some point that learning how to make a shelter out of bamboo was a skill they wished to master. 

“Now we just tie these up to the posts we put on the beach to support the roof at an angle, and we’ve got a simple shelter,” Hargrove said, angling his hand in an example. “Even better, once we’ve got everyone some basic cover, we can start make something better, Lieutenant, and use these panels again when we do.”

“Are we thinking of upgrading to A-frames or actual huts?” Kyoto said, sounding far more excited about the prospect of the latter than Honigsberg could conjure himself. They were doing this with whatever tools they’d managed to grab surreptitiously from various cargo bay containers before they’d been beamed down to this island. They were drilling holes with fancy cutlery from the Amundsen, for crying out loud.

He’d cheerfully give his left boot for an actual engineering kit. 

“I’d say once we have enough of these, we want to work on getting people off the ground,” Hargrove said. The broadly-built lieutenant stretched his shoulders, resulting in an audible pop, clearly nowhere near as annoyed as Honigsberg was with their lack of tools.

“Agreed,” Kyoto nodded to herself. “Raised platforms. Easy enough on the beach and in the grass.” The slender planetary science officer had been the one who’d taught Honigsberg how to braid the thin fibres from inside the shamboo into a sturdy enough rope to secure the frames. While she’d taught him to braid the rope, she’d explained her parents had been botanists and they’d often taken her on trips to various jungles, and building temporary shelters had been the part of those trips Kyoto had enjoyed the most.

Honigsberg, whose favourite part of childhood trips had always been learning about the engines of whatever warp shuttle was their mode of transport, had tried to smile politely at her recounting of sitting under hand-woven shelters in torrential downpours. 

“Before we get too far into improvements, Doctor Fitzgerald wanted to make sure everyone had a way out of the sun first,” Honigsberg said, coming back to the point. “And in case it rains, though we’ve been lucky so far. We have a hundred and eighteen people here, and unless the scouting parties find something better, these lean-tos are our best options to give everyone shade and shelter on the quickest timeline.” He did the mental math, eyeing what they’d built and thinking that, in a pinch, three or four people could crowd under it. “Though we’re going to need dozens more.” 

“We can start teaching others, now you two have the basics,” Bristow offered, smiling at Nicoletti and Honigsberg like he hadn’t more-or-less just mentioned his superior officer, who was the Chief Engineer of a Federation starship, and his second in command both hadn’t known how to build… a roof.  “We can also create more shade by creating covers between two or more of the lean-to frames, Lieutenant.” Bristow added, holding up his hands at two angles, then moving one of them as if to drop an imaginary roof over both the angled shelters.

Which of course they could do. 

“Good,” Honigsberg said, trying not to let his own sense of inferiority take up too much space in his brain, a task made especially difficult given Bristow had supplied his uniform jacket as a makeshift pillow for Captain Cavit, and thus wore only his undershirt, sleeves pushed up, and appearing not so much like a sensor technician than a holonovel adventure hero. “If you four pair up with the engineering staff two at a time, we’ll get these built.” He took a breath, eyeing the “forest” of shamboo growing behind them.

How much of it would they end up cutting down? It seemed to grow everywhere on the island, so they wouldn’t run short at least. 

“Let’s take these first two down for the wounded, hydrate, and then we can get back to it,” Honigsberg said. “You got things here, Nicoletti?” 

“Yes, chief,” Nicoletti said, nodding. His auburn-haired assistant engineer gave him a confident nod, already grabbing some of the fibres and sitting beside Kyoto to start braiding more rope. Kyoto was already explaining the technique to more of his team. 

Bristow and Hargrove took one of the shelter roofs, and Murphy helped him carry the other down to the beach, where they found Doctor Fitzgerald and Nurse T’Prena helping the wounded with a meal—resequenced protein strips that almost tasted like pasta if you closed your eyes and used your imagination—but at least they had the resequencer, which Ensign Vorik had been keeping topped up and running since it had been beamed down along with the last of the crew from Voyager. Between the protein resequencer and the water filter, they’d been set up to survive in the short-term.

Something he imagined the rest of the crew—the former Maquis—weren’t so lucky to have. 

Damn Durst to whatever hell is worst, Honigsberg thought. Klingon hell, maybe.

Eight people lay or sat in the area of the beach they’d set aside for the wounded—multiple uniform jackets hung up on frames of shamboo to create patchwork shade. Three of them were security—Ensign Sendine, Ensign Lang, and Crewman Anderson had all taken low-power disruptor burns during the boarding skirmishes; Ensign Brooks had a fractured ankle, and his own Lieutenant Chapman had a burned arm—Brooks in shamboo-fashioned splints, Chapman wrapped in a cloth one of the crew had managed to tuck into a pocket in the time they’d had in the Cargo Bay before being beamed down; the next two were science officers: Ensign Murphy, who everyone called Fun Murphy, had broken two ribs, and Crewman Copage had taken a bad strike to the head and ended up with a concussion, much like the last figure, Captain Aaron Cavit, worst hurt of them all, with a nasty cut crossing his forehead and his broken shoulder bound tight.

Cavit was currently drinking from one of the large, conch-like shells they were using as cups, but he had his eyes closed while T’Prena tilted the liquid into his mouth for him.

“Roof delivery,” Honigsberg said, forcing some cheer into his voice as he arrived. Doctor Fitzgerald turned to face him, and even offered a smile. The man’s beard had already begun to darken his chin, Honigsberg noticed. 

“Those look great,” the doctor said, approaching them to help them steady the panels at a slope, leaning up against the trio of shamboo stakes they’d already placed into the ground earlier. Honigsberg and Serious Murphy took some time to tie the roof in place among the poles, then stepped back. The slope offered a significant amount of shade, even with the sun angling down to the horizon on another day. 

“Do you need help moving anyone over?” Crewman Murphy said, once the lean-to was securely fastened. 

“We can do it, thanks,” Fitzgerald said.

“Andreas?” 

Honigsberg turned, surprised at the young voice behind him. Setok held up two large objects—more of the curling, almost conch-like shells they’d been using as cups—and held them out to Crewman Murphy. “I found two more on the beach,” he said, the boy’s dark eyes shining with pride of accomplishment.

“That’s great, Setok, thank you,” Murphy said, crouching down a bit to be eye-to-eye with the boy, who Honigsberg had to remind himself, was not a ten or eleven year old like he appeared to be, but rather not even half a year old yet. Watching the boy grow at a particularly Ocampan rate never failed to surprise him. A moment later, Crewman Celes Tal walked up, another of the large shells in hand. 

“We’ve been keeping busy being useful while his parents work,” she said. “Lieutenant Taitt said the more shells we have, the more water we can have ready.”

“Well, I was just about to take a water break,” Murphy said, and unless Honigsberg was mistaken, the tall, serious, kind of forgettable man seemed almost… nervous? “Did you two want to come with me?” He aimed the question at Setok, but Hongisberg noticed his brown eyes flicked up to Celes at the end of the question.

Huh. He hadn’t seen that coming.

“Will you carry me?” Setok asked, in a perfectly delivered counteroffer. 

Murphy scooped him up with an affected ‘oof!’ and the three walked off together, Murphy announcing that Setok was fast growing too large for shoulder rides, and Celes taking Murphy’s hand as they walked.

Huh indeed.

Honigsberg watched them go for a second, heading up to the grassy flats beyond the beach that eventually gave way to the shamboo fields where his team was working, then turned to the doctor, who was looking out across the ocean, clearly lost in thought. In another circumstance, the beautiful ocean view, clear sky, and the warm breeze and the sun over the black sandy beach would be relaxing.

Instead, it felt like the prison it was.

“Are you sure you don’t need help moving anyone over?” Honigsberg said.

Fitzgerald looked at the two, newly erected lean-tos and shook his head. “T’Prena and I can manage.” He faced him again. “These are great, Alex. Exactly what we needed.”

“We’ll have more soon, and something closer to a floor, too, so they won’t have to sleep on sand.” Honigsberg said. “Now we’ve fashioned some rudimentary axes and can easily split the shamboo, we’ll have cover for everyone in time, even if we have to snuggle up a bit.” 

“Arkinson, Baxter, and Russell should be back soon,” Fitzgerald said. Honigsberg knew the doctor had sent three teams scouting along in either direction along the shore, as well as across the island proper, to see if they could find anything. Bronowski, Daggin, Cir, Eru, and Gara had gone with them, hunting for potential food sources, as had most of the planetary science teams, and a security officer or two.

In fact, this was the first time the two of them had managed a moment alone since their arrival, Honigsberg realized. And given they were alone, Honigsberg asked the big question. “How’s the Captain?” 

“Frustrated,” Fitzgerald said, with short burst of breath. “He’s awake, and the concussion symptoms aren’t quite as bad if he stays still, but he knows he can’t lead right now, which… is something, at least. I didn’t want to argue with him.” He took a breath. “Between you and me, though? I hate being in charge. I never should have let them promote me past lieutenant. Then you’d be giving the orders instead of me.”

“Perish the thought,” Honigsberg said, with a chuckle. With Aaron Cavit laid low, Commander Ro and Lieutenant Cing’ta on a different world, and Stadi hopefully still out there, somewhere, Jeff Fitzgerald was the ranking senior officer. 

“You should go get some water,” Fitzgerald said. “I’ll come check in with you once we get everyone moved over and we’ll plan our next steps.” 

Honigsberg left to do just that, though he glanced back to watch as Nurse T’Prena and Doctor Fitzgerald helped Aaron Cavit rise and taking short, careful steps over to the first of the two shelters they’d built. He looked pale, and weak, and Honigsberg had to swallow past a lump in his throat as the man lay back down again this time with his face in the shadow they’d created for him, clearly in pain from both his bound shoulder and his head wound.

Water, then back to work, he told himself. It was the best he could offer.

*

“Wake up.”

Rollins opened his eyes, turning his head from where he lay on the brig’s bunk and seeing Teirna standing on the other side of the forcefield. He shifted to a seated position, wondering what, exactly, the Kazon man wanted with him.

Teirna drew his disruptor. 

Well. That wasn’t good.

“Teirna,” he said the man’s name, keeping his voice as neutral as he could. “Something wrong?”

“I am here to take you to Sickbay,” Teirna said. “So you can have your burn dealt with.” He took two steps back from the forcefield, then nodded to the Kazon who’d been stationed in the Brig since the previous night. The second Kazon tapped commands into the console and the forcefield snapped off.

Rollins rose.

“I will shoot you if you try anything,” Teirna said.

“Got it,” Rollins said. Truth be told, he was too relieved to be heading to Sickbay. The disruptor burns on his stomach still hurt something fierce, but he’d be damned if he’d let it show to any of the Kazon. 

Not that that was the only reason he was relieved.

Teirna said nothing on the walk to the turbolift, but once they were inside the lift itself, he faced Rollins directly, and a small sneer curled his lip. “Pete came back for me. He knew you had telepaths on board. That’s why he didn’t tell me the details of their plan.”

Rollins wanted to groan out loud at Durst’s facile lie—and he didn’t doubt Durst had lied to Teirna for a second—but it was clear Teirna believed it.

Or at least wanted to.

“I’m sure he’ll make it up to you,” Rollins said instead. “Is he back with you then, instead of the Maje?”

Teirna’s jaw clenched, and he said nothing.

Didn’t think so, Rollins thought. The door opened on deck five, and Teirna led him to the Sickbay.

“Speak of the Devil,” Rollins said, stepping through the door and seeing Durst waiting for him, alongside two other Kazon guards Rollins wasn’t sure he’d seen before. Durst gave him the briefest glance for the comment, but didn’t comment on it.

“Computer, activate the Emergency Medical Hologram,” Durst said.

Doctor Emmett Hall shimmered into being. “Please state the nature of the medical emergency,” the hologram said. 

“Disruptor burns,” Durst said, in a dry, almost bored voice, gesturing to Rollins. “If you wouldn’t mind helping him out.”

“Of course I wouldn’t, Lieutenant,” the EMH said, picking up a medical tricorder, and started scanning Rollins where he stood. 

“I’ll need you to lie down on a bio-bed,” the hologram said. 

Rollins took a breath, looking at Durst and putting on his best poker face. He frowned, as though confused, and faced Doctor Hall again, doing his best to appear one step behind. 

“He obeys me,” Durst said, finally showing some emotion: a mild amusement. “He has for months, Scott. He doesn’t even know he’s been doing it.”

The hologram turned to face Durst. “I beg your pardon? My ethical subroutines would never—” 

“Computer, access the EMH back-up module and run subroutine alpha one four,” Durst crossed his arms, a small smile playing across his lips.

The EMH tilted its head, and flickered, going offline and coming back in a shimmer. “You altered my program,” Doctor Hall said, looking up at him. “I’ve been feeding information to you since stardate 49211.5.” The hologram spoke slowly, frowning, then seemed to shrug it off. “Please lie down on the biobed, lieutenant,” he said, turning back to Rollins.

“Emmett?” Rollins said.

“Do not worry,” the hologram said. “While I am programmed to obey Lieutenant Durst above all else, I still retain all my medical programming. Please lie down on the biobed. Your disruptor burns require treatment if you are to avoid secondary infection.”

“Sorry, Scotty,” Durst said. “I needed someone on Voyager. The hologram was it.”

Rollins didn’t have to fake the anger and worry in his gaze as he climbed onto the biobed and glared at Durst. Dr. Hall circled the biobed as he scanned Rollins, and Rollins watched him.

For the briefest moment, the hologram had his back to Durst and the other Kazon.

Which was when the hologram winked at him. 

Rollins lay back on the bed while the hologram lifted his uniform jacket and undershirtshirt enough to start treating the burns, and tried to think of how the hell the two of them could possibly stop Durst or Culluh with him in the brig and the holographic doctor restricted to Sickbay. 

At least Meyer’s workaround program had worked. The EMH was still on his side, ethical subroutines intact. That was something.

He still hadn’t come up with anything approaching a plan by the time the Kazon returned him to the Brig, but at least the skin across his stomach wasn’t stinging and burning any more.

*

Doctor Emmett Hall reactivated himself once Durst, Rollins, and the rest of the Kazon had left Sickbay. He crossed to the computer interface in the office and sat down at the desk, tapping the screen to life. 

“Computer,” he said. “How many of the Voyager crew are still on board?”

“Internal sensors are offline,” the computer’s calm, feminine voice replied. 

Emmett frowned, considering his options. “Access transporter logs, shuttlebay logs, and escape pod logs, and display all activity since the internal sensors went offline.” 

The information scrolled across his screen. He smiled. “Excellent. Remove the crew who accessed the shuttles.”

Fourteen names vanished.

“Now, cross-reference the transporter trace logs against crew medical files, and remove any names of matching crew from the list, and update the list.”

“Cross-reference complete. List updating.”

Emmett watched the names vanish until only five remained.

He stared at the results. 

Automated Personnel Unit 1106. Doctor Emmett Hall. Jal Karden. Lieutenant Scott Rollins. Yareth. 

“1106 is on board? And Karden?” His voice rose in confusion with every name remaining on the list. “And Yareth?” Why would the Kazon-Nistrim keep the two youth on board? Or 1106?

“That information cannot be confirmed,” the computer answered his disbelief as though it had been an honest question. “Internal sensors are offline.”

Emmett had known about Lieutenant Rollins—likely back in the Brig, which meant he couldn’t rely on the security officer for help—but he’d been hoping for something more than his pseudo-child robot and two young adults.

Still.

“Doctor Hall to 1106,” he said. Of the three, the robot—the core programming of which had been based on some of his own programming, most specifically his ethical subroutines—was the individual he considered most likely to be useful. How could it not be, given its “parent”?

There was no answer. 

He tried Yareth next, to the same result, and earned even more silence when he tried to contact Jal Karden. 

“Computer, is the internal communications system online?” he said.

“Affirmative.”

“Can you confirm whether the combadges of Yareth, Jal Karden, or Automated Personnel 1106 are on board?” Unless he was mistaken, the communication system should be able to at least tell him that much, if their combadges were active and connected to Voyager’s communication network.

“The combadge for Yareth is not on board Voyager. The combadge for Jal Karden is offline. The combadge for Automated Personnel 1106 has been removed from the network.”

“Removed?” Emmett frowned at the ceiling. “By who?”  

“The removal was authorized by Lieutenant Honigsberg,” the computer said simply.

“Then 1106 is still on board, and Karden might be,” Emmett said, sure of the former, at least. Lieutenant Honigsberg must have been trying to ensure the robot wouldn’t show up on a simple scan. Unless Durst specifically asked about Automated Personnel Unit 1106, Lieutenant Honigsberg’s actions meant the computer wouldn’t mention the Cravic unit.

It struck Emmett this wasn’t as unlikely as it seemed. The false information Lieutenant Cing’ta and Lieutenant Rollins had used him to feed to Durst since they’d learned about Durst’s program had included creative lies about many of the crew, including Kaurit, Velar, 1106, Karden, and Yareth—Cing’ta had decided the robot might be a tempting target, and Karden’s status as a goven put him at risk as well, so they’d spun a narrative that the five non-Starfleet crew had all left Voyager to stay with the Kolhari on their homeworld—a place the Kazon Alliance couldn’t get to, thanks to the Kolhari tetryon defence shield.

Without internal sensors, Durst would be working with a faulty personnel list. And would continue to be misinformed, until he had any reason to manually check Voyager’s computer, which he could do at any time once they finished restoring the systems.

“Computer,” he said. “Emergency medical priority one one four. Copy all records related to Velar, Kaurit, Automated Personnel Unit 1106, Yareth, and Jal Karden into my holographic memory storage and then delete the original files. Delete their commbadge signatures as well. There is to be no record of their being on board.” 

There was a pause while the computer worked, then the little trill of acknowledgement. 

“There. I’ve hidden them—if they’re even on board. Now, how do I locate them without internal sensors?” the hologram said, tapping the monitor again and scrolling through the systems status. Voyager was clearly still in rough shape, though it appeared the focus had been on repairing propulsion above all else. 

“Please restate request,” the computer said. 

Emmett’s respiration was a facsimile intended to make him more relatable to living humanoids, and served no real purpose. 

Regardless, he sighed. 

“All I need now is a way to find my child,” he said, and started looking through the files now downloaded into his own memory, starting with Automated Personnel Unit 1106.

*

Lieutenant Commander Ro Laren stepped out from the cliffside camp and watched as a group of four figures approached from further along the cliffs. Lieutenant Sam Stiles, Crewman Margareta Crenshaw, Crewman Svetlana Korepanova—Sveta—and Crewman Kat Hughes were returning, and she wanted to talk with them away from the others, in case the news wasn’t good. 

All three looked tired and dusty—both Sveta and Hughes had tied their long dark hair back in simple knots, and Stiles’s beard was already a darkening his chin. They all wore their uniform jackets open, but hadn’t removed them on Sullivan’s and Kes’s suggestion; the heat on this planet during the day was unrelenting, but they’d quickly learned exposing skin lead to sunburn. She herself could feel the back of her neck and her forehead already, and she’d been doing her best to stick to the shade as much as possible.

“How did it go?” she asked, once they were close enough to talk.

“We’ve got a pretty solid location ahead,” Crenshaw said. A tall, athletic, human woman with dirty blond hair, Crenshaw offered one of her signature half-shrugs Ro knew to interpret as meaning the site she spoke of was indeed good enough, though not perfect. “If Niles is up for the walk, we could set out tomorrow, or the day after.” Of their group of twenty-five, she and Avery Roberto had been the two with the most knowledge of survival, and while Roberto had stayed behind to expand their solar stills for tomorrow, Ro had sent Crenshaw away with the other three to scout out a potential “next stop” on their way toward the base of mountain range they’d seen in the distance, which both had agreed was their best bet at finding running water given what appeared to be flood patterns and the like. 

“The day after, it sounds like,” Ro said. Their current camp was functional, and had given them all a couple of days of rest. Both Sullivan and Kes had suggested they give Niles another day of sitting in the shade, now they’d managed to come up with the bare minimum they needed in the way of water. Atara, Li-Paz, and the rest of the engineers had followed Roberto’s lead and they had a half-dozen solar stills already—collecting condensed water into biological sample containers overnight.

“There is bad news,” Stiles said, the large man crossing his arms and looking somewhat grim.

“Don’t keep me in suspense, Sam,” Ro said.

“We saw some of the natives,” Stiles said. “They didn’t see us, but I though it was worthwhile taking some time to see what we could see once we realized we had a chance to examine them.” Stiles rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “They’re not just pre-industrial, Commander. They’re primitive.”

“I only saw wood and stone tools and weapons—spears, mostly,” Sveta said, then let out a small sigh. “Tipped with stone or bone.”

“Their clothing looked like leathery hide to me,” Hughes said. “So somewhere on this planet, there are animals of some kind.”

“Are they on our way to this new site?” Ro said.

“No,” Stiles shook his head. “They were on the move. Nomadic, maybe?” He lifted one shoulder. “If Eru was here, I’m sure she’d have been able to tell you everything about them at a glance, but I can tell you they looked healthy and about my size. I wouldn’t want to tussle with them. Especially not while we’re barely getting enough to eat or drink.”

“But I do think we need to make weapons of our own,” Sveta said. “Spears don’t generally get made for show.”

Ro sighed. It was the last thing she wanted to do, but they weren’t wrong. If only to defend themselves, in case they came across these primitives without the benefit of stealth. “I’m afraid my spear-throwing skills are a bit rusty,” Ro said. “But we’ll come up with something.”

Sveta cracked a smile.

“Go get some water,” Ro said, gesturing back to the cliffside camp. “And let Lan and Cing’ta know everything you just told me. I’m just waiting for Tsao and Schmidt to come back with more firewood. Oh, and I forgot I have good news: there’s food.” 

“There is?” Hughes smiled at that, her usual good humour rising to the challenge of their situation. “Are we talking more grubs, or..?”

“Something like a cucumber. They grow on vines,” Ro said. “Dimitris’s group found them, and I asked them to set aside four for you.” She offered a wan smile. “Don’t expect too much in the flavour department, but they’re juicy, which is extra liquid.”

The four left her, and she looked at the sun—it was heading down to the horizon again, which meant they’d soon be losing the extreme heat of the day and huddling together again for the night when the temperature dropped sharply. At least now they’d put together fire pits and had enough wood. It wouldn’t quite be comfort, but it would be better than their first night, and as long as they could improve their lot a bit at a time, they’d be okay.

She spotted Crewman Lora Schmidt and Crewman Kevin Tsao in the distance, coming back to the camp, both of their arms full with wood. Tsao’s shaved head was red in the sun, and she considered whether or not they’d be able to fashion some sort of covering for him before he was truly burned. 

She was just about to raise her hand and call out to the two when a sound carried on the wind. Faint at first, she frowned, turning and facing the sunset with a hand over her eyes as she tried to place the semi-familiar noise and…

A Kazon fighter, approaching out of the light of the sunset, and heading straight for them. It’s hawkish profile was unmistakeable. 

Her eyes widened. One of Durst’s men, or part of the Alliance, or even sectless, it wasn’t likely they were here to help.

“Take cover!” she yelled, hoping her voice would carry to Tsao and Schmidt as well as the camp in general. She glanced up to see Tsao and Schmidt turning away—at least they’d have a chance to find somewhere to hide—and she raced back to the camp as the whine of the fighter’s engines grew louder by the moment.

Chapter Text

“Almost there.” Stadi tapped commands into the conn of the Cochrane, nudging the shuttle forward with another microburst of the thrusters. The Betazoid pilot could sense focus and concentration of Jetal beside her, putting together as complete a picture as possible with only the passive sensors, much like Stadi was doing to maintain their course with the navigational sensors functioning the same way.

They’d been working this way for nearly three hours without so much as a brief respite, but the end was finally in sight.

Or, well, in range of a passive sensor result.

“No movement from what’s left of the blockade,” Jetal said. “Nearly half their ships have moved on, but they’re still keeping a presence in the area.”

The Cochrane was unique among Voyager’s shuttles thanks to a gift from the Arde—humans kidnapped from Earth to be slaves, marooned on a planet in the Delta Quadrant, whose ancestors had overthrown their Briori captors four hundred years ago. A mineral—a complex lattice of kelbonite and fistrium—coated the Cochrane, one of Voyager’s class-two shuttles. The mineral, almost a midnight black, absorbed sensor scans rather than reflecting them, and made the shuttle itself nearly stealth perfect, but only if they ran it at the bare minimum of its power output.

Which they were doing now, shields down, life support on minimum, using carefully timed thruster bursts to pass—undetected—through the Kazon-Alliance blockade around the Prema system, making their way to Prema II and, they hoped, help. 

“I think we can risk hailing now,” Jetal said. “We’re close enough to Prema II for a tight-beam signal.”

“By all means,” Stadi said, allowing herself to feel real relief for the first time since they’d escaped the attack on Voyager. 

“Hailing,” Jetal said. 

They waited a moment, both regarding the small monitor set between their two panels, until the screen flickered and a Talaxian man’s face appeared, with not just a little surprise in his eyes. Like most Talaxians, he had the tall tuft of hair, spots, and generally russet-and-orange complexion, but at a glance, Stadi got the sense this Talaxian was, for lack of a better work, far more serious than the other Talaxians she’d met. Even his uniform—grey and purple—struck her as subdued compared to the usual riot of colours she’d seen most Talaxians wear.

“Hello,” Stadi said, taking a breath. “I’m Lieutenant Veronica Stadi, of the Federation Starship Voyager.”

“Commander Paxim,” the Talaxian said. “We didn’t even see you coming until you hailed. How did you get past the Kazon Alliance Blockade?”

“We’re in a stealth shuttle,” Stadi said. “We were hoping you’d allow us to land, Commander.”

“That permission will depend on why you’re here,” Paxim said, crossing his arms. “From what we hear, your ship was captured by Kazon-Nistrim rebels, and from what we can see, the Kazon Alliance ships are stepping up their violence all through the sector.”

“Not to put too fine a point on it, Commander, we’re here to ask for help to get Voyager back,” Stadi said. “And recover our crew. Did you hear anything about what may have happened to the crew?”

“I’m afraid not.” The Talaxian stared at her for a beat. “If you’re suggesting an assault, Lieutenant, you must know our ships are no match for Voyager. One stealth shuttlecraft doesn’t tip that balance in our favor.” 

“I know,” Stadi said. “But it won’t just be us. Please. If you allow me to land, I can tell your my plan, face-to-face.”

Commander Paxim’s expression softened. “Of course. I’ll send the co-ordinates.”

“I’ve got them,” Jetal said, a moment later.

“We’ll be there in less than thirty minutes,” Stadi said. “Thank you, Commander.”

Commander Paxim nodded, and the channel closed.

“Lieutenant,” Jetal said, turning to face her, with one eyebrow raised. “What’s the plan to retake Voyager, exactly?”

“I’d gotten as far as gathering allies.” Stadi regarded her, offering a wan smile. “I’m open to suggestions for step two.”

To her credit, Jetal didn’t blink. Instead, she nodded. “Right. Well. We have half an hour, right? Plenty of time to come up with a plan.”

“This is why you’re always my co-pilot, Ensign,” Stadi said, grinning openly now. “We share a love of last-minute solutions.”

*

Karden eyed the power systems in the Jeffries Tube and considered his options. From what he remembered from the PADDs Doctor Fitzgerald had given him to study, the internal sensors were still offline, but if he was careful, he was fairly certain there was a way to create a bypass that, when they were activated, would “skip” a portion of the tube. Then, he could use it as a hiding spot from which to set his plans in motion.

Assuming he could come up with any. 

“Hello, Jal Karden.”

Karden jolted, and he winced as his head struck the low ceiling of the narrow tube. He turned, half-attempting to grab the gardening shears from his boot in the confined space before he realized who—or, rather, what—the voice belonged to. 

“1106?” he whispered, seeing the gold-mask face of the Automated Personnel Unit behind him in the Jeffries Tube, the robot itself having crawled just enough for its upper body to be visible around the corner. Karden had only worked with the robot a few times, and only recently when they were working on Teirna’s shuttle.

“That is correct, Jal Karden,” the robot said, keeping its oddly polite voice just as low. “I have been trying to catch up with you for a while now, but I believe I have more difficulty moving through the Jeffries Tubes than you do.”

“You’ve been looking for me?” Karden frowned. “How did you even know I was still on board?” 

“I did not know. My father located me, and used the emergency medical communication transmitter in Sickbay to reach my my internal subspace receiver. He also deduced you might be on board, and sent me to collect you. I used my thermographic sensors to trace your movements. Come. We must return to him.”

Karden stared at the robot. “Your father?” The robot had a father? 

“Doctor Emmett Hall,” 1106 said, its odd voice still not changing in inflection at all. “He is waiting for us in Sickbay.”

Karden exhaled. The hologram. 

“Do you know the way?” Karden said. He wasn’t sure he did.

“I do, Jal Karden. Follow me.”

Karden started crawling.

*

“Time for dinner, Scott.” Pete Durst came through the Brig’s doors with a dish of what could only be shepherd’s pie. The scent of it got to Rollins even though the forcefield was up. 

Rollins knew it wasn’t just a meal. It was a message. 

The replicators were back online and Durst wanted him to know it. 

He forced himself not to react.

“Unless you’re not hungry?” Durst said, tilting his head. 

“I’m hungry,” Rollins said. He moved away from the forcefield from where he’d been pacing and stretching and doing whatever exercises he could in the small space he had, mostly push-ups and sit-ups. The guard, a Kazon named Rettik, had watched everything he did with vague disinterest, but he hadn’t looked away. 

“Drop the forcefield,” Durst said, not turning around to even glance Rettik’s way.

A moment later, the forcefield snapped off, and stepped inside far enough to put the dish on the counter by the small sink. He stepped back and the forcefield shimmered back into being. 

Rollins rose, and collected the bowl, which had been replicated as a soft wood, just like the spoon that accompanied it. No metal. He dug in, knowing that’s what Durst wanted. 

Besides, he had a duty to keep himself ready for any opportunity.

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to give us a hand restoring phasers?” Durst said.

Rollins aimed what he hoped was an eloquent glance Durst’s way.

“Didn’t think so,” Durst said, his hazel eyes shining with some mirth. “But I thought I’d ask.”

“Repairs going slower than you’d hoped?” Rollins said.

“About as I expected,” Durst said, shaking his head. “Another two days and we’ll have things back on track, I think.” He regarded Rollins for a few seconds. 

“Something on my face?” Rollins said.

“No,” Durst said. “I’m just glad we have you here.”

Rollins blinked at that. He hadn’t been expecting it. “Glad?”

“I’ve had to decrypt more than one command code,” Durst said. “If it comes down to it, having a Senior Officer’s access codes might save time in a crunch.” He offered a wan smile. “After all, if any of the Alliance ships or Nistrim traitors decide to take a crack at us, you need us to win, or we’re all doomed.”

“And who’s fault is that, exactly?” Rollins said, taking another spoonful of shepherd’s pie.

Durst exhaled. “I think we both know the answer to that one, Scott. Lieutenant Commander Aaron Cavit.” He turned after speaking, and was out the door of the Brig before Rollins could swallow.

You keep telling yourself that, Rollins thought, then set to work on the rest of his meal. 

*

Captain Aaron Cavit sat up under one of the shelters on the beach, watching as clouds gathered on the far horizon, where another island was just visible, though often it was lost to the morning and evening mists that gathered over the ocean. 

“You’re up.”

He turned—carefully, making sure not to pull on his shoulder even a little—to see Jeff Fitzgerald approaching, a conch shell in hand. The dark haired man sat beside him, and held out the shell with his good hand.

Cavit took it in his own good hand, making sure his grip was solid before lifting it to take a sip of filtered water. Then he turned back and looked into Fitzgerald’s steely blue eyes.

“What’s our situation?” he said. 

For a moment, he wondered if Jeff was going to continue to stymy him. On some level, he even understood the man’s position: Aaron Cavit had suffered a serious head injury—the headaches he got from moving too quickly, or bright light, were still debilitating—and he also had one arm strapped down across his chest thanks to a fractured shoulder. He was in no condition to lead.

But he was the Captain, damnit.

“Everyone has somewhere to sleep,” Fitzgerald said, after what seemed like minutes to Cavit. His voice was soft, pitched low enough to carry between them and not wake Crewman Copage, who was still asleep beside Cavit under the shelter’s roof. “Alex and his people finished last night. They’re going to keep working on improvements, but at least if we get more rain, everyone will be dry without having to huddle up five to a shelter.” 

“Good.” Cavit cracked a small smile. The last downpour had been sudden, and certainly unpleasant, but in the end, they’d made it through. He looked around the beach and saw multiple versions of the same set-up as the one he was confined in—four sloped-roof shelters in a group, forming almost-squares, with fire-pits in the middle. Most now sported cross-hatched “shamboo” roofs supported between them as well, with smoke-holes, making even more cover available in a pinch. “Food, water?”

“Bronowski’s team came up a few things to add alongside our protein resequencers, but he and Daggin both said this place doesn’t have much beyond the shamboo, grasses, and shrubs. Eru found some edible flowers that you’ll get to try for breakfast. They add a nice flavour to the resequenced paste, actually. Water-wise, we’re fine. The purifier will hold out for a long time, and Kyoto and Bristow dug some wells into the beach three dunes in that Alex and his people reinforced. We’ve been using the water we gather there instead of ocean water in the filter, which Ensign Vorik assures me will push the purifier’s life all the further.” Fitzgerald paused, looking at him, and the genuine soft affection in his gaze warmed Cavit’s whole chest. “How’s your head?”

“It hurts,” Cavit said, knowing better than to prevaricate. “Especially when it’s bright or I move too quickly, but you know that already. I’m sleeping better, though. I think I got more than a couple of hours at a time last night.”

“You did,” Fitzgerald said, nodding, and Cavit smiled at him.

“You’re supposed to be sleeping yourself, Jeff,” Cavit said. “Not watching me.”

Fitzgerald chuckled and rubbed his chin with his good hand, which was dark with stubble Cavit would soon have to start considering a beard. It looked good on the man, even unshaven. Cavit imagined his own beard—more silver than dark grey—had more an “old man” effect on his own face. “True.”

“What aren’t you telling me?” Cavit said.

Fitzgerald blew out a breath. “Baxter’s group made it all the way around the perimeter of the island. They found what looked like the remains of an encampment on the far side, and Cir is sure it’s Kazon-Nistrim.”

“So we could end up with Kazon-Nistrim warriors for company at any time,” Cavit said.

“Actually, Cir was pretty sure it was a shamboo farm. He thinks they use the fibres from the shamboo to weave their tunic cloth. At least, that’s what some of the tools and drying racks left behind seemed to suggest.” Fitzgerald lifted his shoulders. “Karden once told me Kazon women remained planet-side, where they handled raising children, farming, that sort of thing. Either way, Kaplan and Harper have started working on weapons.”

“Weapons?” Cavit raised one eyebrow. His headache was coming back. He drank some more water.

“Shamboo spears,” Fitzgerald said, shaking his head. “Though apparently Crewman Unai is also attempting to make a bow. With Kaurit, who apparently studied archery on Vulcan. Did you know we had five people on Voyager who know how to shoot a bow and arrow?” 

“I didn’t.” Cavit put the shell down and took Fitzgerald’s hand, squeezing. “What else aren’t you telling me?”

“You know, you weren’t this good at seeing right through me before Báisteach,” Fitzgerald said, though he squeezed back. 

“Jeff.”

“Aaron.”

Cavit regarded him, and finally, Fitzgerald sighed.

“Okay, fine. It’s actually about Báisteach,” Fitzgerald said. “In a way. You and I had everything we needed to make a future had we never found a cure, something to focus on every day, but here…” He lifted one shoulder. “The impact on the crew of being separated from the former Maquis, and of not being in control of their own situation? It’s starting to show.” He’d lowered his voice even more than before, and glanced at where Crewman Copage was still sleeping. The dark-skinned man didn’t so much as twitch, clearly still fast asleep. “Yesterday I had to remind Henard and McKenzie that we’ve seen sizeable life forms in the ocean—they were just cooling off a bit after working on shelters all day, but they’d gone out too far, and we don’t have any way of knowing if there are the equivalent of jellyfish, or sharks, or…” He shook his head. “Anyway. I know I need to keep people focused on hope and forward momentum, but I’m not sure where to aim that momentum, if I’m being honest.” 

“Hm.” Cavit frowned, and Fitzgerald shook his head.

“No, you’re in pain. I can tell. I’m not asking for advice, I’m just venting a little.” 

Cavit sighed. “I can help you.”

“You are helping me, just by listening,” Fitzgerald said, and before he could say anything else, Copage woke with a small snort beside Cavit. Cavit turned to face the older science crewman, and helped him shift up to a sitting position.

“How are you feeling this morning, Elliot?” Fitzgerald said, in his soft, bedside-manner voice.

“A bit better, I think,” Copage said, rubbing at his eyes. He eyed the structures on the beach. “You were busy yesterday.” The man’s grey and white beard was also growing in, and it made him look older and more fragile than Cavit knew the scientist was. A life-long enlisted crewman, Copage was, Cavit realized, the oldest crewmember on board. The thought hadn’t occurred to him before, but seeing the dark purple marring Copage’s dark brown skin below his eyes, that sense of fragility returned.

“No one wanted a repeat of the rainstorm,” Fitzgerald said, with a small wink.

“No doubt,” Copage said, tipping his head. “Though you know my great-nephew will still find a way to fuss.” 

“I sent Crewman Mitchell out with the latest scouting teams looking for more of the edible flora,” Fitzgerald said. “I thought I’d give you a break.”

“Bless you, doctor,” Copage said, chuckling.

Cavit bit down on some frustration. He and Jeff would have to talk later. As Fitzgerald sat beside Copage and did a quick check of the man, looking into his eyes and moving a finger back and forth and asking him to follow it, Cavit thought about what Jeff had said. This isn’t Báisteach.

No. It wasn’t.

He looked at the line formed where the sea met the sky, and took a deep breath. The ocean smelled nice, and the air was warm, and there were over a hundred people on this island with no idea what was going to happen to them next.

He needed to get back to being their damn Captain.

*

“Computer Activate the Emergency Medical Hologram.”

From behind the corner to the lab, Emmett heard the voice of the Kazon Maje, Culluh, and smoothed his features, stepping out into the middle of Sickbay. Culluh wasn’t alone. The broad, towering Kazon Maje was with another of his people, a darker-skinned Kazon with a pattern of tall twists of keratin and hair and—at a glance—second degree burns along most of his right hand and forearm.

“Please state the nature of the medical emergency.” 

The Kazon leader turned, facing him, and pointed. “Rulat was burned when a plasma vent ruptured.”

Picking up a medical tricorder, the hologram pulled out the hand-scanner and the burns. 

“Second degree burns,” he said, doing his best to appear merely professional and barely interested. “I’ll need to use the dermal regenerator, but first we’ll need to remove your tunic sleeve.”

“Fix him,” Culluh said, in a voice like ice, then eyed Rulat. “Then get back to work. I want those vents fixed before we leave the nebula.” 

“Yes, Maje,” Rulat said, but Culluh was already most of the way through Sickbay’s door. 

Emmett waited for him to leave, then helped cut Relut’s tunic sleeve away, revealing the worst of the burns. The Kazon barely flinched, despite the pain he must be feeling, and Emmett considered just how violent the Kazon lifestyle must be that such pain tolerance appeared to be matter-of-course to the Nistrim. 

The Kazon himself ignored anything but the most direct request from Emmett, so he worked mostly in silence until he was almost finished, wrapping the dermal strips around the last of the wound that would need the extra layer of protection until the dermis healed. 

“You should rest,” Emmett said. “Try to avoid using this arm for at least eight hours.”

That, like everything else he’d said to Rulat, went without any reply. Instead, the Kazon man simply said, “Computer, deactivate the emergency medical hologram,” and Emmett had to allow himself to deactivate. 

A moment later—to his perception, though it had been nearly a minute—he found himself once again tucked in the lab as his program was restored as per his hidden instruction to restore his program whenever everyone left Sickbay.

He knelt down by the Jeffries Tube panel, and opened it, moving back as Jal Karden slid out and rose, stretching. Automated Personnel Unit 1106 remained in the tube, as it was a bit more cumbersome for the robot to enter or exit the crawlspaces.

“It appears your efforts to stymy the progress of the Kazon-Nistrim have been effective,” he said. “That’s the third engineer I’ve treated for minor injuries. This time the plasma vents ruptured.”

“I weakened the seals,” Karden said, exhaling. “But they’re getting ahead of us, Doctor.” The young Kazon seemed more than a little anxious. 

Emmett thought he understood. After all, the two had been working without anyone but himself for help, and if they were discovered… well.

“What about the main computer?” he asked, leaning down to view the gold mask-like face of 1106. “Have you had any luck?”

“I have inserted multiple flaws, father,” 1106 said, and Emmett smiled at the moniker, as always oddly pleased the robot felt the kinship they shared, despite not being programmed for anything approaching a familial sense. While they hadn’t had a plethora of instances to interact over the half-year or so since 1106 joined Voyager, he found his relationship with 1106 to be a genuine pleasure. 

He was, after all, an algorithmic chip off the holographic block. 

“If they try to target a photon torpedo, it won’t work,” Karden said.

“I adjusted the algorithms of the targeting systems,” 1106 said. “They are out of alignment, but it should not be clear, as Jal Karden said, until the Kazon attempt to use the weapon.”

“Excellent,” the hologram said. “What’s next on our list?”

“Father, we are approaching the limit of systems where our sabotage may still appear to be residual issues from combat damage,” 1106 said. 

“They’ve focused on the propulsion and weapon systems,” Karden added. “And the main deflector.”

Emmett tried to come up with a plan of action. “What we really need is a way to speak with Lieutenant Rollins.” The ship’s tactical officer would know what to do. 

“There are no Jeffries Tube access points to the Brig,” 1106 reminded him.

“I know,” Emmett sighed. “If the Kazon would leave me alone with Lieutenant Rollins for a few minutes, I could give him a sub-dermal communicator, but any time he’s been brought here, Lieutenant Durst or Culluh or other Kazon watch everything I do.”

“Does he know we’re on board?” Karden said.

Emmett shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I haven’t had a way to tell him.” 

“Our plan remains the same, then,” 1106 said. “We must slow the Kazon down until the return of Lieutenant Stadi and the rest of the shuttle crew.”

“We need to do more than that,” Karden said. “At some point, stopping them is going to mean killing them.”

“I will not kill unless there is no other option.” 1106’s voice never changed from its usual calm politeness, but Emmet swore he could hear a trace of sadness when it spoke.

Emmett considered that 1106’s desire to do no harm was directly a copy of his own ethical subroutines, and wondered if the same complexity had truly carried over. Because Emmett knew that he could chose lethal options in extreme cases—his designer had included exceptions for life-saving measures, but like 1106, he couldn’t want to use them.

“We should get back to it,” Karden said, stretching again. He took a deep breath. “We’re going to try and knockout the lateral sensor array next. I’ll come back at twenty-three hundred, sleep in the morgue drawer again.”

“I’m sure Ensign Lan’s offspring will appreciate the company,” the hologram said.

“Right,” Karden’s voice was tight as he climbed back into the Jeffries Tube. Emmett considered offering comfort to the young Kazon man—telling him things would be all right—but he dismissed the idea. Jal Karden didn’t react well to platitudes, in his limited experience.

Also, he didn’t know if the sentiment was true. A few moments later, they were once again gone, and Emmett paced the lab, considering what else he could come up with until Voyager’s crew could come reclaim the ship.

Assuming they were capable of trying.

*

Ro crouched low beside Cing’ta, the two of them raising their heads just enough over the rocks they were using as cover to watch as the Kazon fighter streaked across the more open, flat space opposite the cliffside. 

“Wait,” Cing’ta said. “I know that shuttle.”

“Pardon?” Ro glanced at him. The Bolian’s bifurcated blue face was intent, his dark blue eyes frowning as he eyed the small inbound ship.

“That’s the Kinell, I think,” Cing’ta said, putting a hand over his eyebrows to squint past the low sunlight. “The markings. That’s Jal Karden’s shuttle.”

Ro exhaled. “Well, we don’t know who’s flying it.” Karden’s shuttle didn’t have the enhanced dilithium like the rest of Voyager’s shuttles, so they hadn’t included it in their plan. Most likely whoever was on board had come from Voyager—and that meant most they were allied with the Kazon-Nistrim.

Lan joined them, staying crouched as she moved from the entrance to their cliffside shelter to their cover behind the rocks. 

“Everyone out?” Ro said.

“Everyone but Niles and Atara,” she said. “And Sullivan stayed with them.” 

“Good.” Ro nodded. If the shuttle opened fire—likely easily picking up their lifesigns—she didn’t want everyone grouped together. Not that it really mattered if they spread apart—they could run, but against a shuttle, what could they do? Throw rocks?

She wished the damned sun on this blighted planet wasn’t directly in their eyes. The shuttle was definitely approaching their position, but she could hear it more than see it. 

“It’s landing,” Cing’ta said. “About fifty meters away.”

“It’s Jal Karden’s ship,” Ro said quietly to Lan. “From Voyager.”

“Some of Culluh’s people then,” Lan said grimly. Ro noticed she had a sharpened wooden spear, and was gripping it tightly. 

“Hello?” came a voice. Softened by the distance, it was still nevertheless a little frightened, and…

Familiar.

Ro blinked, rising from behind the rock. “Yareth?” she called out.

“Commander Ro?” 

It was Yareth. 

Ten minutes later, Ro and Cing’ta were gathering everyone back to the shelter while she and Sullivan were speaking with her. Yareth was clearly shaken, and had a dark bruise over her left temple, alongside some swelling that made the folds of her cranial ridges press down above her left eye. Sullivan had looked her over, but the Rakhari girl seemed otherwise more-or-less in decent health.

“We were emptying everything out of the Kinell,” Yareth said. “And then Lieutenant Stadi was there. Karden sealed me in the shuttle just before everything in the Shuttlebay was blown out into space.” She took a shaky breath. “I hit my head, and I think I was unconscious for a while. When I woke up, there was debris and there were Kazon bodies floating in space…” She swallowed. “It was damaged. The shuttle, I mean. I managed to get it moving, and I followed Voyager’s ion trail. It led here, and when I scanned the planet, I saw there were twenty-five lifesigns—different species—so the logical assumption was you were from Voyager.” She had to stop again, holding and releasing a few breaths. Her composure regained, she went on. “I didn’t think I’d manage to keep the warp engines online much longer, so I landed.” She let out a shaky laugh, one Ro would have bet was fuelled by the fumes of what must have been hours and hours of anxiety. “I don’t like the controls on that shuttle.”

“You did a great job,” Sullivan said, putting a hand over Yareth’s. “Yareth, do you have a medkit on board?”

“No.” Yareth shook her head. “I barely have anything on board. I only had a few tools…” She gestured to what appeared to be a Trabe engineering kit. 

“You very well may have saved our lives, Yareth,” Ro said, looking around the Kazon shuttle and seeing only potential despite the lack of much of substance. Assuming they could fix the shuttle, she could send a small team to try to go get help.

“Where are the rest of the crew?” Yareth said. “Karden?” Her voice caught. “I looked at all the… bodies, in space, and… he wasn’t there. So… maybe…” She didn’t finish the thought. “Kaurit? Velar?”

“Durst planned to strand everyone who wasn’t Maquis somewhere else,” Sullivan said, squeezing the young woman’s hand. “We don’t know where, but I’m sure Karden is with them.” 

Ro was glad Rebecca was here. Yareth looked like she was holding herself together by a thread.

“Ro?” 

The voice was Lan’s, and it held an edge of worry. Ro turned, and spotted the Trill woman’s outline beyond the rear of the shuttle, barely visible in the dark. The air was picking up the chill of the night on this planet, again.

“What’s wrong?”

“We can’t find Schmidt or Tsao,” Lan said. “I was hoping I could use the shuttle’s sensors…”

“Do it.” Ro nodded, and Lan climbed on board, settling into the second seat and tapping away at the console. 

Lan paused to eye Yareth. “Given how banged up she is, I’m impressed you landed her so smoothly.”

“Thank you, Sahreen,” Yareth said, with a small smile. She reached up and pulled her long hair free from the knot she’d tied it back into. “It’s cool here.”

“It gets much colder really fast now the sun has gone down,” Sullivan said. 

Ro watched Lan working, and saw her shoulders tightening.

“You two go get Atara, Li-Paz, and Hawks,” Ro said. “Have them come take a look at the shuttle.”

“Atara won’t want to leave Niles,” Sullivan said.

“Bring him, too.” Ro glanced at the shuttle’s interior. It wasn’t a Federation shuttle, but had somewhere to sit and other basic amenities. “He’ll be more comfortable in here anyway.”

Sullivan nodded. “Come on, Yareth, I’ll show you our camp. It’s not much, but it’s also not much.”

That got a small laugh from Yareth as they left.

“Did you find them?” Ro said, moving up to sit beside Lan.

“Maybe,” Lan said. “One of them, but the lifesign isn’t stable. And there’s a second lifesign, but it’s not humanoid. It’s something large.” She turned to Ro. “We need to hurry.” She rose from the chair, and looked around. Ro wasn’t used to hearing Lan’s voice so tight with worry. “Do we have anything we can use for light?”

Ro eyed the Trabe toolbox, and pulled out a small light meant to clip to a tool aimed into small spaces. It would have to do. 

Something large. 

They ran back to the camp, and brought Stiles, Sveta, and Roberto with them. With the light, Roberto managed to track the signs Tsao and Schmidt further along the cliffside wall, and despite the temperature dropping rapidly, none of them slowed down.

“There’s what appeared to be a cave ahead,” Lan said. “The shuttle picked it up. Maybe another few hundred meters.” 

“There,” Sveta pointed.

They found Tsao. Under the tiny beam of the tool light, the man’s wounds were only caught in glimpses, but Ro knew they were bad. Something had torn into his side, as well as cutting a deep gash along his right arm and hand, and he’d left a trail of blood leading away from the cave’s entrance. He wasn’t moving, and the skin on his shaved head was pale, but Lan pressed two fingers against his neck.

“He’s alive,” she said.

“We’ll carry him back,” Stiles said.

“Take him straight to the shuttle,” Ro said. 

“What about Lora?” Roberto said, passing the torch to Sveta and helping Stiles lift the injured man.

“There was only one humanoid lifesign, Avery,” Lan said. 

She’s dead, Ro thought. And maybe even eaten by whatever tore Tsao up.

No one said another word as they lifted and carried Tsao back to their camp and the shuttle, but in her mind, Ro heard plenty from herself. Lora Schmidt was gone. Kevin Tsao was in dire shape. 

She didn’t need anyone to say it out loud.

She’d failed. 

Chapter Text

Sullivan and Kes climbed out of the back of the Trabe shuttle, their expressions equally grim. Ro faced them, arms crossed, tension locking her shoulders and spine in a vice-grip despite the cold night air.

“Tell me,” she said.

“We managed to stop the bleeding,” Sullivan said. “But there’s a chance he’s lost too much blood already, Laren. His pulse is thready, and he was in shock from the trauma of his injuries.” 

“He’s unconscious again now, but he woke up briefly,” Kes said, her voice going soft and gentle the way it did when she knew she was delivering bad news. “He said ‘it got Lora.’”

“How long do we have?” Ro said. “If we can repair the shuttle, how long do we have to get Tsao help?”

Sullivan and Kes exchanged a glance, and Ro could see them trying to do mental calculations with only a fraction of the information they needed. There were no tricorders on board the shuttle, medical or otherwise. Rebecca’s pre-Maquis life had been as a first responder, and she and Kes were both fully trained, but they were working with a small roll of cloth, limited water, and some engineering tools. 

“Maybe a day?” Sullivan said finally, the statement as much a question as an answer. 

Kes nodded, the blond Ocampa clearly not disagreeing.

“Hawks? Li-Paz?” Ro said, eyeing the two engineers who’d paused to listen to the conversation. Atara Ram was still inside the shuttle with Niles, who also wasn’t doing well. Steven had a low fever, and Kes was worried it might be an infection starting, but right now Tsao was the more pressing concern.

Besides, if they could get Tsao to help, they got Niles to help, too. 

Li-Paz was doing his best not to shiver, and failing. He was a leanly built Bajoran man, and he’d spent much of the last hour lying on his back under the shuttle’s plasma vent, trying to restore the plasma vent’s control circuits, which had been damaged either during the decompression of Voyager’s Main Shuttlebay or sometime after, in open space. Beside him, Jordan Hawks looked a little better, but she’d been working on the impulse engines, alternating from inside and outside of the shuttle trying to track down an issue, staying in motion and getting respite inside the heated interior. 

“We’ll get her running as fast as we can,” Li-Paz said. 

“Getting her into orbit is the first hurdle,” Hawks said, pushing some of her long brown hair behind her ear. “The impulse engines are only giving us about a third their usual thrust.” She turned to face the shuttle. “But if we can’t get the plasma systems responding, that won’t matter. We won’t have warp.” 

“Paz, take a few minutes to warm yourself up,” Ro said, holding up a hand to forestall him when he opened his mouth to interrupt. “That’s an order. We’ll bring some wood, build a fire out here, too. It’s too cold to keep working exposed without one.” 

Kes put a hand on Li-Paz’s shoulder, and he finally nodded. “Aye, Commander.” Kes opened the rear of the shuttle again and led him inside. 

“You and Atara help Paz on the warp problem,” Ro said, turning back to Hawks. “I’ll send Lan and Hajar back—they can work on the impulse engines.”

“You got it.” The engineer nodded, and left to do exactly that. In the Maquis, Hawks had often been the one who jury-rigged parts from multiple broken systems into one workable whole. Atara was a solid propulsion engineer, Paz knew systems tech like few others she’d met. Add Hajar, and Lan? 

They could get this shuttle flying.

“I’ll be back with wood, Lan, and Hajar,” Ro said, meeting Sullivan’s gaze, once they were alone again. Sullivan’s face was in shadow now, with only the shuttle’s outer lighting to work with, but Ro thought the grim expression was still there. 

“Laren,” Sullivan said, an unusually hesitant edge in her voice.

“I know,” Ro said. Because she did. She absolutely believed her people would get the shuttle in the air. The real question was whether or not they could do it—and find help—in time.

But she intended to try.

*

When Stadi sensed Jetal approaching the back of the shuttle, she turned the pilot’s chair around in time to see the engineer arrive with two plates. 

“I thought you could use something to eat,” Jetal said, lifting the plates of what looked like a simple noodle-and-sauce dish. “This is Alfarian hair pasta, and do yourself a favor and don’t ask any more questions, because I learned more than I needed to from Paxim’s chef.” 

“That seems to be a theme with Talaxian cuisine,” Stadi said, taking the plate and giving it a tentative sniff. It smelled like food at least. 

Jetal chuckled, turning the ops seat around and sitting. “I take it there’s been nothing yet.”

“No,” Stadi said, not letting herself dwell too much. She’d ordered the other shuttles—who would never have made it through the blockade undetected, given their lack of the stealth coating—elsewhere, under Ensign Jenkins’s command, and it she wasn’t willing to worry quite yet. 

Still, her mental clock was ticking. 

She tried the pasta, which was a bit chewier than expected, but honestly tasty enough, if perhaps a bit over-spiced to her liking. Stadi was fairly certain Talaxians didn’t have even a passing acquaintance with the word “pinch.” Their minds, though, were a study in the balance between surviving and thriving. They’d lost their homeworld, been ejected or subjugated by those who’d taken their homes, and the vast majority had moved on to make their lives elsewhere. They carried the trauma of the loss, yes, but layers of simple joys, enthusiasm, and a desire to make something for themselves were wrapped around that trauma. Mentally, emotionally, and psychically, she though the Talaxians were almost pearl-like: a people who shone and glittered around that initial speck of pain. 

“Commander Paxim said there have been no new mentions on subspace of Voyager,” Jetal said, after they’d eaten in silence for a while. 

“They bragged about taking her over, but there’s been almost nothing since,” Stadi said. “I’m inclined to believe that means she wasn’t battle-worthy, and they’re making repairs. And since they have Durst, they’ll be able to.”

Jetal nodded, chewing another forkful of the spongy pasta before she replied. “Yes. But they’re not on the move yet, at least.”

“You’re a glass-half-full kind of person, aren’t you Ensign?” Stadi said, with a smile to make sure it was clear she was teasing.

“I majored in shuttle design at the Academy, Lieutenant,” Jetal said with a smile of her own. “Do you have any idea how many disaster scenarios I had to solve to graduate?” 

Stadi laughed, and it felt good to laugh. She hadn’t done much of it since they’d landed on this very launch pad. “Wait until you try the Bridge Officer’s test,” Stadi said.

Jetal shook her head at that. “I have no designs to be anything more than what I am, Lieutenant.” She meant it, too. Stadi could sense the satisfaction and contentment Jetal derived from her work.

“I can relate. Three months as the first officer taught me a lot about appreciating my role as the pilot,” Stadi said. 

Jetal opened her mouth to reply, but a trill from the panel behind her interrupted. She put down her plate of pasta and faced forward. “It’s the Pel,” she said, her voice rising in excitement. 

“Put them through.” Stadi said, putting her own plate down and turning her chair back to face forward toward the small comm screen between the two main panels. She’d told Jenkins to have Pel make the approach to get within comm range, given it wasn’t a Federation shuttle, but a Vidiian ship Jetal and her people had spent months modifying. It would be the least likely of their little fleet of shuttles to attract attention from what remained of the Kazon Alliance Blockade.

After a moment, the screen flickered, and the faces of Ensign Pablo Baytart and Crewman Cordelia Foster appeared. “Good to see you,” Baytart said. He had short, spiky dark hair and a particularly striking nose, and the smile on his face spoke volumes to how things had gone.  

“Tell me that smile means good news?” Stadi said. 

“It does,” Baytart said. “Things went pretty much as you’d hoped, Lieutenant.”

“Sharr, Biddle?” Stadi said.

“They’re both recovering,” Foster said. “Sharr still needs some time, but Biddle is back on his feet. He’s looking after her in the rear cabin, but they’re both okay, Lieutenant.” Cordelia Foster had a poise to her that often reminded Stadi of her home on Betazed. Forthright. To the point. Foster wouldn’t sugar-coat it or overstate. If she said Sharr and Biddle were okay, they were okay.

“Thank goodness,” Jetal said beside her. “Tell Renlay not to push it. She never knows when to slow down.”

“Will do,” Foster said. 

“We’ll meet you as soon as we can,” Stadi said, not wanting to discuss more details over an open channel given the potential for the Kazon Alliance ships to be listening in, but knowing she needed one detail in particular. “I’ll need a number, for my talk with Commander Paxim.”

Baytart exchanged a glance with Foster, and both smiled. It was par for the course from Baytart, but the smile looked particularly good on the light brown skinned woman beside him. Foster, Stadi decided, was beautiful when she let that smile out. 

“How do we feel about the number six, Lieutenant?” 

Stadi knew her own smile was as wide as the one on Baytart’s face.

“We feel very good about it,” she said. “Good work. Cochrane out.”

Jetal closed the channel, and turned to face Stadi. “Six ships?” Her dark eyes were bright with hope. 

“Six ships,” Stadi repeated. “Even if they’re what we expect, their six, plus our five shuttlecraft, the Pel, and whatever we can charm out of Commander Paxim?” Stadi could feel a real chance forming. “It has to be enough.” 

“I think I’ve had enough pasta, if you’d like to get right to the charming, Lieutenant,” Jetal said.

“Absolutely,” Stadi said. “Durst and his people have had Voyager more than long enough.”

*

Doctor Emmett Hall worked the monitor in the medical lab, tuning it to input 47. The channel was intended to allow other sections of Voyager to reach his program in an emergency, but as Emmett went over and over all the options he could access from Sickbay, it occurred to him he could activate the channel on his end.

He tapped in the activation command and…

Success.

On the screen, most of the warp core and the chief engineering stations were visible, and among them, a quartet of Kazon Emmett had yet to meet were visible, as were more familiar people: Durst, Culluh, and Rulat. 

At a glance, they appeared tense. 

“There’s no way these problems are coincidental,” Durst said. He crossed his arms, holding an object the EMH couldn’t identify, but assumed was some piece of Voyager’s propulsion system. “Honigsberg’s people did a number on the system interfaces before we reached Engineering, but this?” Durst shook his head. “The backup and the tertiary failsafe would have to have failed for this to happen—and yet the safeties still worked enough the plasma was contained. It’s too specific.”

“What are you saying?” Culluh said. “That we have a traitor on board?”

“No,” Durst dismissed that with another shake of his head. He placed a hand in the centre of Culluh’s chest, in a gesture of submission or comfort—Emmett wasn’t sure which—and then spoke softer. “None of our people would know how to do this kind of damage to a Federation component. No, I don’t think we got everyone off the ship.”

“Oh no,” Emmett said. 

“You said you accounted for every name, even the shuttle pilots.” Culluh’s voice rose with anger, and he pushed Durst’s hand away from his chest. “You said the internal sensors didn’t show any non-Kazon lifesigns on board other than you and the security officer.”

“They didn’t,” Durst seemed more annoyed than angry. “Which means either we’ve got someone on board who’s masking their lifesigns somehow, or…”

“Or?” Culluh snapped the word, clearly impatient.

“Two options I can think of,” Durst said, after a pause. “I need you to post guards around Deflector Control. If we do have a saboteur on board, we can’t let them meddle with it.”

For a moment, it looked to Emmett like the angry Maje wasn’t about to do anything Durst suggested, but after another second, he nodded at one of the four unknown-to-him Kazon, and two of them moved away.

“Use Starfleet tricorders,” Durst said, to the other two. “If we can’t trust the internal sensors, they’ll spot any lifesigns. Go deck by deck.” Then he turned to Rulat. “Start working on this,” he handed the Kazon engineer the broken whatever-it-was, and Rulat nodded. “Now we’re out of the nebula, we can’t afford to have anything less than our best warp speed.” 

Emmett noticed Rulat and the other Kazon didn’t obey Durst right away, instead pausing and glancing at Culluh, who nodded at the group of them. Then they left the area in view of the channel monitor, leaving Durst alone with Culluh.

“You said there were two possibilities,” Culluh said. “What are they?”

“One is our saboteur is a Kazon, but that doesn’t account for them knowing exactly where to damage Voyager to delay us,” Durst said. “The only Kazon Voyager had on board for any amount of time left months ago.”

“And the other?”

“The other is I’ve been lied to since we got back aboard,” Durst said, crossing his arms. “And I’m going to go find out if that’s the case right now.” 

“By who?” Culluh said. “Your former human bedwarmer in the brig? I told you you should have let me break him.”

“No, not Scott,” Durst said. “By my own damn program.”

“If you are wrong—”

Emmett turned off the monitor, not wanting to bother to hear Culluh’s threat. He didn’t have the time, given what he knew would happen once their conversation ended. He moved to the Jeffries Tube entrance and opened the panel, kneeling down.

“Are you there?” he said. “Did you hear all that?”

“We did, father,” 1106’s voice was as calm and pleasant as always.

“What do we do now?” Karden said, far less calm. “If they know you’re compromised, they’ll come here next.”

“Karden, you’ll escape a tricorder lifesign scan if you hide yourself in the morgue drawer Doctor Fitzgerald and I adjusted for Lan’s offspring,” Emmett said, speaking quickly. “You must hurry. 1106, you won’t show up on a tricorder lifesign scan at all—I suggest you hide yourself somewhere the Kazon are unlikely or unable to look for you.”

“I can enter a nacelle,” 1106 said.

“Excellent. Take a medical tricorder with you. Don’t come back out until you have a clear path, and then I’m afraid it will be up to you and Karden to continue your work without me.”

“Why without you?” Karden said, slipping out of the tube.

“Because you’re going to take me offline, right now. If my program is offline, Lieutenant Durst can’t learn anything from me.” Emmett met the Kazon’s gaze. “We already know he has enough skill to alter my program. I don’t intend to allow it to happen again.”

“You’re leaving us?” Karden’s pale eyes widened. 

“You’ll do perfectly well without me,” Emmett said, squeezing Karden’s shoulder. “Now. You must hurry. I need you to set an overload in the holographic module before you climb into your drawer. No doubt Lieutenant Durst is on his way.”

Karden took a breath, then nodded, re-sealing the Jeffries Tube and then following him. 

Less than two minutes later, Emmett’s internal diagnostics delivered a warning that his system was about to overload, and then—

*

Lieutenant Zandra Taitt watched the group she’d started to think of as “the archers” for a few moments, intrigued. Kaurit, a lean Vulcan who wore a sensor web over his blue-grey Vulcan Science Directorate uniform to compensate for his near-blindness, raised what appeared to be a fully functional bow crafted entirely from the shamboo.

She winced internally at her own use of the name for the local plant. Alex Honigsberg’s sense of humour was sometimes a joy, but the man’s pun-laden names for local fauna wasn’t exactly scientific, and yet somehow they’d caught on through the entire crew.

Kaurit loosed the woven string, and his arrow—more or less a sharpened stick, really—covered a fair distance and struck the target, which was a small rectangle of the local wood, stood on a tripod of wood legs. The arrow struck hard enough to embed itself and stay put. To either side of Kaurit, Crewman Alona Unai, Ensign Michael Parsons, Ensign Hindaki Shibukawa, Crewman Heather Hamilton, and Chief Basil McMinn let out whoops and cheers of varying intensity.

Taitt crossed the last of the distance to meet the group, pushing some of her hair out of her face as the wind picked up and tugged it from the loose braid she’d managed this morning. 

“It appears we may have solved the tensile strength issue,” Kaurit said, offering neither whoop nor cheer himself, of course.

“That was impressive,” Taitt said, and the group turned to face her. 

“It will take a few more tests to ensure we have created a functional bow,” Kaurit said, his features and tone giving away no real sign of any pleasure in his success. “But I believe we will be successful.”

“Thanks to you, Kaurit,” Unai said, her softly Basque accented voice not allowing him to share the credit in the slightest. “The rest of us would still be three steps behind without you.”

“I studied archery and design on Vulcan,” Kaurit said. The slender Vulcan turned his face toward Unai, though his eyes remained didn’t focus on her. “The rest of you did not.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing if I’m still a decent shot,” Hamilton added, her lips turned in a particularly self-mocking smile. “It’s been almost six years since I nocked an arrow.”

“With Kaurit’s guidance, we should be able to arm ourselves by the end of the day tomorrow, Lieutenant,” Ensign Parsons said, the security officer clearly pleased at their progress. “In case we do end up seeing any other Kazon.”

“We might also be able to fish with them,” McMinn said. Basil McMinn, their ship’s quartermaster, a tall, sandy-blond haired man with a soft voice and a real skill for organizing clearly had a different focus in mind than Parsons. “It might make a nice change from the protein paste, even with the flowers.”

“If nothing else,” Shibukawa added, “any fish we catch would be more protein sourced for the resequencer.”

A gust of wind made Taitt raise her voice to reply. “I’ll let the Captain know,” she said. “Both opportunities.” That made both Parsons and McMinn smile. “I’ll let you get back to it.” 

Taitt wanted to check in with Daggin and Bronowski next, and then find Abol to share “lunch”—she agreed with McMinn, some fish would be very welcome change over the resequenced protein paste—but as she made her way back to the shelters along the beach, the wind continued to pick up, and she glanced skyward, noting the clouds moving fast, as well as darkening into swirls.

By the time she made it back to the beach, the activity unfolding made it clear she wasn’t the only one who’d noticed. Crewman Maureen White ran up to meet her. “Lieutenant!” she said, calling a little to be heard over the wind, which had only grown in strength.

“How bad is it?” Taitt said, closing the distance. White, one of her planetary science officers, had been a climatologist for nearly thirty years now. The woman held her shoulder-length brown hair back with one hand.

“Bad enough,” White said. “Those cloud formations mean a thunderstorm at least, but this wind…” She shook her head. “I’m not sure if the shelters will be strong enough, Lieutenant.”

“Did you tell the Captain? Doctor Fitzgerald? Lieutenant Honigsberg?”

“Yes, Lieutenant. Everyone’s working on tying everything down as best they can.”

Taitt glanced at the incoming clouds, which looked even darker than they had a moment ago. 

“There are six people in the clearing on the other side of the hill,” Taitt said, pointing. “Go let them know they need to come back, then get under cover yourself.”

“Aye, Lieutenant,” White said, and then she was gone. 

Taitt got to the shelters as fast as she could, and found Abol in the sheltered cross-shaped area they’d been sharing with a dozen others, mostly science officers. His smile at her arrival, despite the tension she could see in the dozens of people moving all around them, brought a warmth and a sense of security to the middle of her chest. 

“Zandra,” he said, his warm brown eyes meeting hers. “Lieutenant Hargrove thinks we may end up with damage in the connecting roofs.” He gestured to the flat panels connecting the four sloped lean-tos as a kind of communal area between where they slept. “But the angled lean-tos should be okay if we reinforce their connection to the stakes.” 

“Got it.” She knelt beside him, taking some of the woven fibre-rope they’d made from the local wood, and started working. She glanced up, watching, and was relieved to see White returning with the archers.

“I’ve never seen a thunderstorm,” Abol said, turning and looking back out over the ocean for a moment. 

“They’re loud, and impressive,” Zandra said, sparing a moment to meet his gaze. “And best enjoyed from somewhere rainproof and indoors, unfortunately.”

“Well,” Abol said, glancing at their lean-to. “We’ll have to make do, but I’m glad I get to share my first thunderstorm with you.” 

A moment later, the rain began.

*

Kes lifted Steven Niles’s shirt and regarded the disruptor burns. The man’s skin was red, and warm to the touch around the burn, but so far there was no sign of any liquid discharge, and the red hadn’t begun to send tendrils away from the original injury yet.

“You think by now I’d be better at reading your expression,” Niles said. He was a handsome man, with gentle brown eyes and a tendency to calmness Kes admired. Since they’d brought him and Tsao into the shuttle, he did look a little better, but she had no illusions that his infection had halted. Slowed, perhaps.  

“Doctor Fitzgerald teaches all his students how to be inscrutable,” Kes said, knowing a dash of humour would go far with Niles. 

As expected, he smiled. “I’m going to translate that to mean I’m not much worse off.”

“That’s right.” Kes checked the black cloth they were using as bandages again just to make sure—still no sign of infectious discharge—and then covered Niles again. He lay to one side of the rear of the shuttle’s back area, which wasn’t large, and on the other side, also on the floor, Sullivan was tending Kevin Tsao, who hadn’t regained consciousness since they’d brought him aboard.

Which was fortunate, in Kes’s mind, since Tsao, if he did wake, would be in a lot of pain given how deep his wounds were. 

Niles’s head rolled to the side. “How’s Kevin?” he said, his voice dropping to something closer to a whisper. 

Kes regarded Niles, unsure if she should be honest or not. At the front of the shuttle cabin, Niles’s partner Atara Ram was working with Jean Hajar on the propulsion systems, and no doubt they’d hear anything she said.

Sullivan, however, turned long enough to glance at Niles.

“We don’t have a lot of time,” Sullivan said. “He needs blood. His wounds are severe.” 

Not for the first time, Kes considered the former-Maquis fundamental cultural difference from the other Starfleet officers. They tended to deal in blunter truths, and seemed to appreciate the directness. 

“Maybe another hour, Rebecca,” Hajar said. “We’re pretty sure we’ll be able to get into orbit, but we’re trying to put the warp engines back together with hope and prayers.”

“Which is more than we had to work with half the time with our old shuttles,” Atara said, a sly humour to the edge of his words. “So you hold on, Kevin.”

That was another thing Kes had noticed. They all spoke to Tsao, despite him being unconscious. 

“He’s a fighter,” Niles added. “Remember when he—”

Kes frowned, and Niles’s words floated past her attention as something brushed at the edge of her awareness. She turned her head, eyeing the rear of the shuttle. She hadn’t heard something.

She’d felt it.

“Someone’s coming,” Kes said, and the conversation around her ceased. She opened the rear of the shuttle, stepping out into the early morning light and frowning. 

“Kes?” Lan said, looking up from where she and Li-Paz were working on the outside of the shuttle. Hawks was standing by the fire they’d built, warming her hands. 

“Someone’s coming,” Kes said. “I felt the focus of their minds, but they’re not familiar.”

“Jordan, run back to the camp,” Lan said. “Let them know the primitives might be on their way.”

Hawks didn’t hesitate. She ran off at a sprint. 

“How close are they, Kes?” Lan said, peering out in the dim light.

Kes closed her eyes, and considered the techniques Lieutenant Stadi and Nurse T’Prena had taught her. A Betazoid approach, she thought, would be more helpful. She allowed her self to simply feel. Sullivan’s determination. Niles’s pain. Li-Paz’s focus. Atara’s worry. Hajar’s tension. Lan’s oddly doubled presence. The faint spark that was Tsao. 

More, Kes thought. Beyond here. Beyond those around me. Feel it all.

There. 

Perhaps a dozen minds… harder to read, not clear at all. No thoughts—she didn’t read them well enough to get their thoughts, and she was sure the native humanoids weren’t telepathic—but their feelings…

Intrusion. Hostility. Determination.

“They’re coming,” Kes said, her eyes still closed, trying to hold on to what she could sense, more difficult without other Ocampa near her. “And they’re angry. They’re coming here because…” She frowned, shaking her head and opening her eyes. “I think they want us to leave. To chase us away.”

 “Look,” Li-Paz pointed, and Kes turned. Sure enough, she saw motion out there in the dregs of dawn light.

“What do we do?” Kes said, glancing at Sahreen Lan, who was the ranking officer present.

“Tsao and Niles can’t run, and we need this shuttle,” Lan said. “We defend ourselves.”

Chapter Text

Ro jogged up to Lan, makeshift club in hand, with Crenshaw and Dimitris to either side of her, both bearing spears. Lan was keeping herself tucked up against the side of the shuttle, the rear of which was open. 

“What’s the situation?” Ro said.

“They’re surrounding the shuttle in three groups,” Lan said, adding, when Ro peered into the early morning light, “I had Hajar bring up the shuttle’s sensors.”  

“How many?” Ro said. 

“Twenty,” Lan said. 

Ro exhaled. They were more-or-less matched to a person, and she imagined the natives were much, much handier with their own spears than her people were. 

“Cing’ta and the others are on their way, but we don’t have enough spears for everyone yet.” Ro eyed the shuttle. “Can we get the shuttle moving? We can retreat if we know Tsao and Niles are out of danger.”

“Working on it,” Li-Paz’s voice came from beneath the shuttle, where he was sprawled out and working with their slim selection of tools, Atara Ram beside him. The Bajoran engineers feverishly worked to put the exterior plating back in place. 

“We might get one burst out of the shuttle’s disruptors,” Lan said. 

Ro blew out another breath. “I’d rather not shoot at them, Sahreen.”

Lan raised a shoulder. “I’d normally agree, Commander, but…”

Ro nodded, waving it off. She understood. If it came to it, she’d absolutely defend their wounded. 

“They’re on the move!” Hajar’s voice came from within the shuttle. “They’re coming in three groups, from the east, north, and south-east.” 

“Get on the shuttle,” Ro said, holding up one hand when Lan opened her mouth to protest. “If we can get the shuttle online, you and Hajar get off planet. Priority to finding Niles and Tsao aid. The Talaxian colony, maybe, then see about coming back for us, and…” She let her voice drift off. Lan knew what to do.

“Take Kes with you,” Li-Paz said, just as Kes stepped off the back of the shuttle, shaking her head.

“No,” she said. “I’ll stay. Rebecca will go with you.”

“Kes—” Li-Paz started, clearly ready to argue with her on this. 

“I can sense the natives telepathically, Commander,” Kes said, speaking over Li-Paz. Her bright blue eyes met Ro’s without wavering. “Without the shuttle, you won’t have sensors to predict them coming.” 

Li-Paz fell silent.

“Kes, head back to the settlement. Lan, take Sullivan,” Ro said, nodding at Kes, then glancing down to see Li-Paz clenching his jaw while he worked. The slender man looked furious, but he wasn’t slowing down. If anything, he was speeding up, holding the plates while Atara fastened them with a sealer undersized for the job. He knew Kes was right, but Ro imagined he didn’t like it.

Lan climbed back on board the shuttle.

“Jean,” Atara called out from under the shuttle. “How’s the deuterium pressure?”

“In the yellow,” Hajar’s voice replied. 

“I don’t think we can do better than that,” Atara said.

“Not in the next few minutes,” Li-Paz said. 

“Commander,” Dimitris said. The normally jovial, bearded bear of a man was pointing, and Ro turned to look, following his finger. 

In the distance, she spotted movement. A half-dozen of the natives, barely in view. 

They were out of time.

*

Rollins glanced up when the door to the Brig opened, mid-way through a series of push-ups designed more to see how much of Teirna’s attention he could capture than about actual exercise. It wasn’t a fully-formed plan, and he wasn’t sure if he could make any true connection with Teirna, but from inside the cell, it was the best he could come up with. The Kazon man had watched him intently, and Rollins had been attempting to see how long he could keep the man turned away from the Brig control console at a time, but gave up when Pete Durst arrived. 

He pushed himself to his feet, standing just as Durst got to the other side of the forcefield. He picked up his undershirt, tugging it over his head. Unlike with Teirna, Rollins did not want Durst’s gaze anywhere on his skin.

“I need to be alone with him for a moment,” Durst said, the statement directed at Teirna, though his hazel eyes never left Rollins’s. 

Something had clearly happened.

“The Maje was clear he didn’t want—”

Durst did turn away this time, and Rollins watched as the tall Engineer closed the distance and then pushed past the boundaries of personal space, placing a hand against the centre of Teirna’s chest. “Teirna,” he said, and that was all he said. Just the man’s name. But there was a kind of promise in the tone.

“I’ve had no time with you since we came on board,” Teirna said, and despite the man being one of his captors, Rollins felt a tiny tug of sympathy at the level of thwarted desire in Teirna’s voice. 

Durst had Teirna. Completely. Any thoughts Rollins had considered about capturing Teirna’s attention in any romantic way were discarded. 

“Tonight,” Durst said, in a voice so low Rollins barely heard it. “Culluh is meeting with the raider commanders. I’ll come to you.” 

Teirna took Durst’s wrist, lifting his hand until he had the palm against his lips. He delivered a single kiss, then—without so much as a glance Rollins’s way—he stepped away from the brig control console and left them alone in the room together.

Durst watched him go, his eyes full of longing and desire right up to the moment the door closed, at which point the false emotion snapped off like a beacon, and he faced Rollins. 

“Who do you have on board?” he said.

Rollins picked up his uniform jacket, sliding one arm into it, then the other, not responding and not hurrying. 

“Scott,” Durst said.

Rollins just stared at him. 

“Your friend—or friends—took the EMH offline,” Durst said. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t have bragged about reprogramming him,” Rollins said, with a careless shrug. Better to make Durst think Emmett was an ally of Durst’s he’d wanted eliminated. Rollins wanted Durst working on false foundations whenever possible. Especially since Rollins had no idea who—if anyone—was on board, or who might have done the deed in question. 

“If these acts of sabotage keep up, they’re going to ruin our chances of escaping Alliance territory.” Durst lifted both hands. “You have to see that.”

“We were already on our way out of Kazon space, Pete,” Rollins crossed his arms. “You ruined our chances. You.”

Durst’s hand went into his trouser pocket, and he pulled out a phaser. Rollins eyed it, but he couldn’t see the setting. Durst tapped the controls beside the forcefield and it snapped off. He raised the phaser, gesturing for Rollins to move further back.

He did.

Durst entered the cell, dropping his voice to nearly nothing, the phaser not wavering as he spoke. “We’re hunting with tricorders, every deck, every Jeffries Tube. It’ll be better for whoever you have on board if you tell me now. They need to back off. I can’t get us out of here unless we get to…” Durst paused, swallowing. “Unless they get out of my way.” 

“Get to where?” Rollins said. Had that been an actual slip, or a calculated one? He couldn’t tell.

“Who is on board?” Durst said. “I’m asking nicely, Scott. Culluh wanted to do this another way.”

“I’m sure he did,” Rollins said, and then, just for a second, Rollins was sure he caught something in Durst’s eyes. A flash. There-and-gone-again. But it had been there. He took a breath. “You’re afraid,” he said.

“Tell me who is on board,” Durst said.

“No, you’re not just afraid,” Rollins said, realizing what it was he’d seen. “You’re terrified. You looked just like that when you had nightmares about the Vidiians, when you woke up in my arms, crying, and asked me to hold you and—”

Durst stepped forward quickly, in a move clearly well-trained and practiced to a well-honed edge. Rollins was so surprised at Durst’s skill and wary of the phaser he didn’t get his arm up in time, and the edge of the phaser landed hard against his temple, with real strength. 

Rollins stumbled back, and dropped into a defensive stance, but Durst’s brief break of his cool, calm exterior was over. Once again he stood there, the picture of self-control. 

Rollins resisted the urge to touch his forehead. He could feel a trickle—blood—reach his right eyebrow.

“The Kazon Alliance went off plan,” Durst said. “I can fix it. If whoever you’ve got working against us ruins that, we’re all dead.”

“Fix it how?” Rollins said. 

Durst exhaled, then stepped back, never lowering the phaser. He turned the forcefield back on, and walked out of the room. Teirna returned to the station, his eyes tracking to Rollins’s forehead, a small narrowing of his eyes the only tell from the Kazon.

“Some friendly advice, Teirna, from one of Pete’s lovers to another. Be careful,” Rollins said, imagining it likely hopeless but wanting to try to put any sort of wedge between them he could anyway. “This is how he treats the people who’ve seen him vulnerable.”

Teirna didn’t reply.

Rollins went to the sink, eyeing his reflection and doing the best he could to clean the cut left by the edge of the phaser. He’d had no idea Durst could move like that. But now he did. That was something. 

Who’d trained him?

He’d likely never know. He got the bleeding to stop and eyed his own reflection again. That interaction hadn’t been a total waste. He’d learned he wasn’t alone on Voyager. Emmett allowing himself to be taken offline had to be to cover for others. 

I need to get out of this brig.

*

Doctor Fitzgerald ran his good hand gently over Cavit’s bare shoulder. Despite his best efforts, Cavit’s small flinch spoke of the pain he was in. 

“As soon as your uniform is dry, we’ll bind you back up again,” Fitzgerald said. “That’ll help with the pain.” He eyed the pattern of the bruising all along Cavit’s broad shoulder and into the curve of his neck, wishing he had a damned medical tricorder. 

Like most of the crew, they’d stripped down to underclothes in the aftermath of the storm, and had their uniforms hung up in the still-blowing breeze to dry. The morning after the storm had broken warm, and the sun was bright. The dark sand was already borderline hot beneath Fitzgerald’s bare feet. 

“How are the shelters coming?” Cavit said, and Fitzgerald knew Aaron was trying to change the subject. 

He decided to let him. “Alex’s teams are getting there.” They’d lost about a third of their shelters to the high winds and the thunderstorms, and had been lucky not to have much in the way of injuries beyond mild abrasions and contusions, though Ensign Brook’s ankle hadn’t fared well during her dash to cover when the shelter she’d been under had given way. “Hargrove and Kyoto are rebuilding the shelters that didn’t make it, but they’ve moved them further from the shoreline, in the soil rather than the sand, with the slopes facing the ocean in case we get another storm. That should help.” 

“Good,” Cavit said. He was looking past Fitzgerald, at the dozens of people moving about in the distance. They’d taken a short walk down the beach together before Fitzgerald had undone Cavit’s uniform-sling and spread it out to dry. A modicum of privacy was all they could have. Cavit took a breath, then faced him. “My vision is blurring again.” 

“It’s the concussion. After the storm, I’m not surprised. It was loud, and you didn’t get any sleep.” Fitzgerald took Cavit’s good hand in his own. “I’m sorry. I wish I could do something, Aaron.” He squeezed. “How bad is the headache?”

“On the pain-scale we talked about?” Cavit closed his pale blue eyes, considering. “I can ignore it and think. Just. So, that’s what, a five?”

“You should try to sleep,” Fitzgerald said, and predictably, Cavit’s response was a frustrated noise between a growl and a sigh. “Aaron.”

“I know,” he said. “But last night was miserable, we need to rebuild, morale must be a mess, and I’m…” 

“Injured, and need to rest,” Fitzgerald interrupted.

“I was going to say ‘the Captain.’” Cavit’s lips twisted in a small, wry smile that managed to look charming and boyish despite the silver-and-dark-grey beard growing in.

“Oh, I know what you were going to say,” Fitzgerald said, and then he leaned forward, offering a soft, gentle kiss before pulling back, which Cavit accepted with another small smile. “But the Captain will be no use to anyone if he doesn’t get some rest.” 

“Sleeping on a beach. In my underwear,” Cavit said, with a small snort. 

“I can make it an order,” Fitzgerald said. “I know you love it when I order you to rest.” 

“I really don’t,” Cavit said.

“Huh. Is that so?” Fitzgerald said, feigning surprise. Then he relented. “Do you need help lying down?” Given the state of his shoulder, adjusting his position would likely be painful. Again. 

Cavit acquiesced, and Fitzgerald managed to lower him until he was lying down on the warm sand. He took some time to position Cavit’s arm as best he could for him, reminded him to do his best to hold still, and wished he could just wrap the man up in his arms. 

“At least I’ll have a nice tan,” Cavit said, closing his eyes. 

Fitzgerald allowed himself one more look—this one not as a doctor, but as the man who loved Aaron Cavit. Cavit’s broad chest, with the dark hair that covered it, still seemed strong and healthy despite the bruising all across his shoulder. His arms, too. Damn, but Aaron Cavit had nice arms. 

He’d be okay. It would take time, but even on this planet, with no access to his usual medical technology, Aaron Cavit would recover. It would be slow, and it would be frustrating, but they could get him there.

Fitzgerald rose, the sand shifting under his bare feet, and turned to head back to where Honigsberg and Taitt were organizing the rebuilding, making his way down to the original shelters where Brooks and the other wounded waited. He and T’Prena would do morning rounds, and then they’d see what else needed doing. 

In their underwear.

He glanced down, the smile slipping as he caught sight of the neural rig on his left hand and tapped the controls to power it down. He had no way of recharging the cells in the device, and he’d realized the day before half the power was already gone. 

He made a mental note to check in with Kaurit. The Vulcan’s sensor web was likely facing the same reality. 

*

“Are we sure we’re tuned to input 47?” Stadi said, speaking quietly in the cabin of the Cochrane despite knowing it didn’t matter how loud they were. Psychologically, their attempt at stealth had her conversing at a near-whisper on some nonsensical instinct.

“We are,” Jetal said, after a moment. She was almost whispering, too. “Maybe his program isn’t running?”

“It doesn’t matter. He should activate whenever a signal comes in.” Stadi’s plan to collect information about the current state of things on Voyager depended on contacting Dr. Emmett Hall, the Emergency Medical Hologram, via the communication channel devoted specifically to the program. It wasn’t a channel usually monitored, and thanks to their Talaxian allies, they’d located Voyager in orbit of a Kazon-Nistrim moon.

More importantly, the moon itself was located close to one of the Kazon Alliance subspace relay satellite Durst had helped the Alliance create.

For the first time, Stadi had been glad of the relay satellite. With Jetal’s help and a little luck, the Cochrane had managed to intercept some Kazon signals, layer the input 47 communication beneath the signal, and then send their message back into the relay station, all from a position far enough from the subspace relay satellite they wouldn’t be detected, thanks to the Cochrane’s stealth coating and running the shuttle on as little power as they could.

But it would all be for nought if the Dr. Hall didn’t answer.

“I can try again,” Jetal said. “There’s another batch of Kazon signals coming through their network.”

“Give it another shot,” Stadi said. “But we need to start thinking of contingencies. I’d rather have inside knowledge, but if it comes to it, we’ll work with whatever we can figure out from passive sensors.”

“I’ve sent the packet,” Jetal said, tapping her console. “It’ll take a while to get information.”

Stadi nodded, understanding. Passive sensors relied on building information from emissions from the target. “Voyager took hits to the nacelles during the battle. Lets start there. How far have they gotten repairing them, if they are any obvious vulnerabilities we can exploit…”

“Poor Chief Honigsberg,” Jetal said, with a small smile. “Once we get him back on board, he’s going to have to fix everything we’re planning to break.”

Stadi chuckled. “I’m sure he’ll forgive us.” She watched the readings populate on the display. “What’s that?” she said, frowning. She pointed at some of the passive scans coming from Voyager’s port nacelle.

“Pardon?” Jetal peered at the reading. “What are you seeing?”

“It’s small,” Stadi said, isolating the section and expanding it. “But look. The rear of the nacelle, by the last two warp coils. There’s a slight variance in the energy profile.” She frowned at it. It didn’t seem to be affecting the energy field, though Voyager wasn’t currently at warp, so it was possible whatever it was would have an effect if Voyager did go to warp.

Jetal worked her sensors. “I don’t think that’s coming from the warp coils.” As more information populated their readings, the engineer leaned forward, as though getting closer to the console would make things clearer. “How did you even spot that? It’s such a small discrepancy.”

Stadi smiled. “I spent a lot of time monitoring the starboard nacelle after it took damage from the Cravic, especially when…” She paused, her smile slipping away. “Wait.”

“Lieutenant?” Jetal said.

“Can we use the passive scanners to detect the frequency of the plasma where that discrepancy is?” Stadi said, eyeing Jetal. 

“We’d need to build it up in layers.” Jetal took a second to consider. “I think so. Give me a moment.” She worked her console, tapping in a series of commands. “This might work,” Jetal said, tapping again. Their readings shifted, an overlay of amber and blue plasma frequency modulations starting to populate as the passive sensors collected what data they could. “It won’t be complete right away,” Jetal said. “What are we looking for?”

“That,” Stadi said, pointing at a tiny speck already forming on the frequency waves. “We’re looking for that exact signature. Ahni, you are amazing.” 

“Thank you,” Jetal said, then, in a total deadpan, “Why am I amazing?”

“Because you just showed me something I’ve seen a dozen times before, even when we were at warp,” Stadi said. “We’re looking at a robot in Voyager’s nacelle.”

Jetal blinked. “1106 is still on board?” 

“And hiding somewhere the Kazon would never look for a humanoid,” Stadi said, with a nod. “Now I just need a way to talk to it.” 

“1106 has an internal subspace communication system,” Jetal said. Her dark brown eyes met Stadi’s, filling with excitement. “That’s how Meyer got the ethical subroutine into the Cravic and the Praylor in the first place.” She paused. “But I don’t think it had a lot of range.”

Stadi took a moment. They had a robot with a receiver on Voyager. She needed to work with that, especially since she couldn’t reach Dr. Hall, given his program wasn’t responding to the signal they were sending through the… 

“The subspace relay satellite,” Stadi said. “They boost signals over great distances. We could use that to get a signal to 1106—the same way we were hoping to do with the EMH.”

“Yes,” Jetal said, nodding. “I’m sure I can isolate a band. I remember enough about what Meyer explained. But 1106 wouldn’t be able to reply.”

Stadi smiled, and tapped the reading of Voyager’s nacelle. “We can work around that.”

*

Communication function active.

Automated Personnel 1106 shifted in the catwalk of the nacelle, its head tilting to one side. It wasn’t a functional movement, but rather one it had picked up in imitation—it knew the expressiveness of its vocal range was limited compared to the living humanoids of Voyager, and in an attempt to further put the crew at comfort and to acclimate, it had begun to study their nonverbal communications.

Thus, a tilt of the head had become an expression of surprise, since its face was otherwise a static covering.

1106 ran an analysis of where the subspace signal had originated, but the range of its own internal subspace communication function was too limited. Safety protocols determined the signal to be carrying nothing beyond verbal communication, so it accepted the signal, though it accessed the signal only on its own, internal processors.

1106 did not want to make any noise, even though it had determined its likelihood of discovery by the Kazon-Nistrim to be less than 0.47 percent given its current location.

“Lieutenant Stadi to 1106. I believe we’ve located you inside Voyager’s port nacelle. If that is you, please move one metre closer to the nacelle strut.”

1106 didn’t waste time. It moved precisely one metre closer to the superstructure that attached the variable warp nacelles to Voyager’s secondary hull. Then it waited.

“Lieutenant Stadi to 1106. I’m so glad you’re on board. If you’re the only remaining Voyager crew on board, stay where you are. If there are others, move a number of metres equal to the number of other crew.”

1106 considered the limitations of this communication and the intent of Lieutenant Veronica Stadi’s question. Technically, it was possible the correct amount of movement was four metres: Jal Karden, Lieutenant Scott Rollins, and the two symbiont offspring. But it presupposed Lieutenant Veronica Stadi wished to know which humanoids were on board in order to facilitate retaking control of Voyager, in which case, the offspring were not likely to be helpful. After a moment reconfirming the likelihood of this supposition, it shifted two metres back. 

“How many of the three of you able to help us in a plan to retake Voyager?” was the next message and once again, 1106 shifted. This time by two metres. 

Lieutenant Veronica Stadi proved to be a canny communicator. Through phrasing questions related to numbers 1106 was soon able to pass much information about the situation on Voyager, including that Lieutenant Scott Rollins was in the brig—she asked for the number of pips in rank of each individual in turn, for which he remained motionless twice as he had no rank, neither did Jal Karden, then moved two metres for Lieutenant Rollins—as well as making it clear that 1106 himself was the only individual currently freely mobile in the ship. After nearly an hour of communicating solely through motion, Lieutenant Veronica Stadi’s next message was not a question.

“Okay, 1106. Here’s what I need you to do,” the message began. 1106 listened, its internal logic centres collating options and running scenarios, accessing its knowledge of Voyager subsystems and schematics, and ranking the combined whole with relative percentages of success.

Soon, it had a plan. 

*

The sink turned on, then stopped. 

Rollins sat on his bunk, where he’d been for at least the last hour, with Rettik sitting at the security desk barely paying attention to him. Plan after plan rotated through his mind, all of them out of his reach from within the cell. 

The sink turned on again, then stopped again.

He eyed the sink, then Rettik. The Kazon didn’t seem to have noticed, which wasn’t surprising. The sink was tucked in the outside corner of the cell, beside the opening, which put a bulkhead between the Kazon and the sink, and it wasn’t loud. 

Rollins watched the sink from where he sat, wondering what could have caused the error, and then it ran again, only this time it stopped and started in quick pulses a number of times before stopping.

What the hell?

He shifted his position on the bunk as though he was getting comfortable, but in reality gave him a better view of the sink, and waited.

The sink turned on, then stopped. A pause. It turned on a gain, then stopped. Another, much longer pause. Then it did the same staccato burst as before, and this time, Rollins counted them. Six times, then it stopped again. 

About thirty seconds later, it repeated.

Rollins considered. One. One. A long pause. Six. 

When it clicked, he had to fight off making a noise, smiling, or jumping to his feet. 

1106. 

Automated Personnel Unit 1106 was on board. That explained how Durst couldn’t find him—the robot wouldn’t show up on a lifesign scan—and given they’d used Emmett to feed Durst false information that 1106 was long gone, he didn’t imagine they’d even tried to go looking for him.

Moving slowly, he got up and walked to the sink, washing his hands. He hoped 1106 would be able to tell he’d interacted with it, and that the message had been received. He dried his hands, resisting the urge to look out at Rettik to see if his motion had caught the Kazon’s attention.

Would he be able to communicate with 1106? Could 1106 get him out of his cell? He tried to think of options, let alone how to communicate them, but then the door to the brig opened.

Maje Jal Culluh entered, his eyes on Rollins from the moment he stepped inside. 

“I have questions,” Culluh said. The menace in the man’s voice was clear, as was the knife he held in his hand. “You will answer them.” 

Scott Rollins took a deep breath, and braced himself. He’d been trained for this. 

“Drop the forcefield,” Culluh said. “If he moves, shoot him.” 

“Yes, Maje,” Rettik’s voice held a measure of pleasure at the command. A moment later, the forcefield snapped off, and Culluh stepped into the cell.

*

This position isn’t defensible.

The thought might be true, but it certainly wasn’t welcome. Ro eyed Jal Karden’s shuttle where  it stood, more-or-less in the middle the flat, open space that led to their shelter inside the cliff-face. All three groups of the local humanoids had a clear approach.

And now she could see those three groups, their spears were very much on Ro’s mind. 

Tactically, there was one move. Fall back. But Tsao couldn’t do that, and Niles might not be up for it, either. And this shuttle was their only chance at saving Tsao’s life, so…

“If they’re smart, they’re going to come all at once,” Ro said. “Paz, Atara. Get back to the settlement.”

“Commander, if we could…” Li-Paz started, and she knew he was about to ask for more time but those natives were too close for more time, and if this went badly, she didn’t want Li-Paz or Atara getting hurt. They had the skills to get this shuttle back into the air. 

“Now.”

With a bit of scuffling, the two Bajoran engineers got out from under the hawk-like beak of the shuttle and—with a backward glance of frustration—started jogging toward the settlement. 

To either side of her, Crenshaw and Dimitris stood as ready as they could be. Both were using the shuttle itself as cover as best they could. 

Ro glanced again at the figures in the distance. Three different groups of half-a-dozen or so, they stood taller than her. 

She heard footsteps, and glanced back. Cing’ta, arriving with Sam Stiles, Kat Hughes, and Avery Roberto. The three humans bore spears of their own, while Cing’ta had something closer to a stout club—and in his other hand, a torch. It looked like the big Bolian had pulled a smallish log from one of their fires, and she raised an eyebrow at him in silent question.

“Fire can be frightening,” he said. 

Fair enough, she supposed. 

“Lan and Hajar are going to try and get the shuttle in motion,” Ro said. “And if it comes to it, Lan might be able to give us a bit of support. If the shuttle lifts off, we retreat to the settlement. Understood?”

Her words garnered nods and ‘ayes.’ 

Cing’ta took Hughes and Stiles to the front of the shuttle, and she, Roberto, and Crenshaw took the rear, leaving Dimitris to duck beneath to look out at the third approaching group. 

The noise from group approaching the front of the shuttle changed. What had been low vocalizations shifted to something louder, more aggressive, and—was she imagining it?—panic?

“What’s happening?” she called.

“They stopped approaching, Commander,” Cing’ta said, his deep baritone carrying easily around the shuttle. “They’re stomping their feet and pointing their spears at us.” 

“It’s you, Lieutenant,” Stiles said. “They’re pointing at you, not us.” 

“And they’re really not happy to see you,” Hughes added.

“I don’t think they’ve seen a Bolian before,” Cing’ta said. “And I don’t think they like what they see.” 

Behind them, the shuttle’s engines began to hum, and Ro took a breath. Lan and Hajar had gotten the propulsion system activated, at least. With a little luck, the next thing she’d hear would be the thrusters lifting the shuttle off the ground—which would leave them with no cover, but she’d take it, given the options.

As she watched, the group of seven natives approaching from behind the shuttle crouched. She wondered if they’d heard the shuttle’s engines cycling on, or if they were just getting ready to—

They charged, yelling in loud, staccato bursts as their long legs ate up the ground between them and the shuttle.

Crenshaw and Roberto lifted their spears, bracing themselves. Ro took a breath. 

Behind her, something crackled, loud, followed by a hiss. She glanced back, and saw a small stream of gas coming out of the side of the shuttle’s port engine. 

No. She gritted her teeth, turning back to the approaching natives. They’d be here in moments, and that rupture didn’t bode well for the shuttle’s chances at a takeoff. 

The high whine of a disruptor charging confirmed Ro’s suspicions that whatever had gone wrong with the shuttle’s engine wasn’t something Lan or Hajar thought they could fix on the fly. 

“Brace yourselves,” Ro said, calling out just before a lash of disruptor fire from the front of the shuttle struck out at some target she couldn’t see in front of the shuttle. 

The humanoids racing toward her, Roberto, and Crenshaw skidded to a halt, only a few dozen metres away now. Another burst from the shuttle’s disruptor—much weaker but still visually impressive—burst out at the edge of it’s portside arc-of-fire, and this time, Ro caught the result from the corner of her eye. The blast had dug a wedge into the ground not far from the third group approaching from the shuttle’s side. The natives there scrambled backwards, and Ro eyed her group again. 

Their vocalizations were coming faster now, and they gestured to each other with sharp jabs of their free hands, but they weren’t coming closer. 

Ro stared at them—and found herself locking gazes with a tall, strong-looking humanoid male with cranial ridges. For long seconds, neither looked away, and she felt like she was issuing some sort of ancient, instinctual challenge. She didn’t look away, didn’t blink. 

With a series of vocalizations, the humanoid broke his gaze away from hers, and the groups began to move back, moving slowly, without any real haste, and aiming their attention on the shuttle every few steps they retreated.

They didn’t go out of visual range, staying in their groups in the distance, but they weren’t racing to attack anymore, either.

The rear of the shuttle came down, and Sullivan stepped out.

“We’ll get Li-Paz and Atara back to work on the engine,” Ro said, turning to face her. “If they can—” She paused, seeing Sullivan’s face for the first time. Her dark eyes were softer than usual, her lips thinned with emotion, and she met Ro’s gaze, exhaling slowly.

Ro didn’t make her say it. “Tsao?”

“Just a minute ago,” Sullivan said, nodding. 

 No one spoke for a second. Then another. 

“No one else dies on this planet,” Ro said, her voice even, and loud enough to carry to those inside the shuttle. “Roberto, go back to the camp, tell Li-Paz and Atara they can get back to work on the shuttle. Bring Kes back, too—I’d like to know if we’ve warned off the locals for good or not and she might be able to tell us.” She paused, swallowed. “As soon as she can fly, Lan, you go. Get Niles help, and then come back for the rest of us. Understood?”

“Yes, Commander,” Lan’s voice came from the interior of the shuttle. 

“I’ll stay here,” Cing’ta said, coming around from the front, his voice lower and softer than usual. “Seeing me really seemed to spook them. I’ll stay visible.” 

Ro nodded. It was a solid move.

“Everyone, keep your eyes open.”

*

“Who is on board Voyager?” The question—like all the questions over the last hour—came with pain. Jal Culluh’s boot slammed into Rollins’s stomach, and Rollins realized only dimly he’d fallen down after the last assault. 

Warm autumn evenings on his grandfather’s farm in Quebec. A dissassociative technique he’d been taught during his time in Security training, but he held onto the image by the skin of his teeth as the pain blossoming with deep, burning waves that seemed to never end. 

He said nothing.

“Who is on board Voyager?” Another kick, this one striking his arm as he threw it up at the last moment to protect his face from the Maje’s boot.

Skating on the Rideau Canal during an Ottawa winter. The scent of cinnamon pastries, the laughter of his brother as he watched Rollins wobbly progress on the ice, the cold wind against his cheek. 

“Who—?” He barely heard the words through the ringing in his ears, but the next kick slammed him hard against the bunk in the cell. He made a noise—it wasn’t words, it was a forced exhalation.

Celebrating Shab-e Yalda with his grandmother on Kenda II. Pomegranates. 

The comm system interrupted before Culluh could ask again. Rollins struggled to put air back into his chest. His body seemed to flare through cold and hot in turn. 

“Maje Culluh,” a voice said. “The raider commanders have beamed aboard.”

Culluh sighed, sounding mostly bored. “I’ll be right there.” Culluh crouched down low, and though Rollins’s right eye was swelling, he could see the man’s face clearly enough.

“We’ll try again later, Federation,” he said. He barely sounded winded. 

Rollins waited until the forcefield had snapped back into place to speak. He couldn’t bring himself to try standing yet, or to even shift his position, but Scott Rollins had one card, and it was time to play it.

“Hey, Culluh,” he said. The taste of blood in his mouth made him choke slightly on the man’s name. “My turn. I have—” He coughed some blood, but kept going. “—a question for you.”

Culluh paused, but didn’t turn.

“Do you know where your bedwarmer is?” Rollins said. 

Chapter Text

Stadi exhaled, watching Voyager’s relative position edge closer and closer on her sensors. Finally, they drifted into the planetary magnetic pole. She tapped the thrusters, just enough to halt their motion.

“Anything?” she said.

Beside her Ensign Jetal shook her head before answering. “No sign they saw us.”

“Let’s check on our friends, then,” Stadi said, hoping the interference would help cover a tight-beam communication. 

“Hailing Commander Paxim,” Jetal said. 

Stadi glanced over to the small display set between the two front panels on the Cochrane. A moment later, the face of the Talaxian Commander appeared. 

“Lieutenant,” he said. “We’re ready.”

She smiled at the Talaxian, whose eyes were set with a serious, steady gaze. “Perfect timing, Commander. My source has it as the middle of the night on Voyager.”

“I’m not worried about the clock so much as I’m worried about the other two raiders, Lieutenant,” Paxim said, finally cracking a small smile. “My fighters aren’t a match for Voyager, but those raiders aren’t moonmoths, either.”

“Just get their attention, then bolt for the asteroid belt,” Stadi said. “We’ll handle the rest.”

“I’m signalling the Pel that we’re on our way,” Paxim said. “Paxim out.”

The screen went blank.

“Where’s our robot?” Stadi said.

Jetal checked her screen. “1106 spent over an hour adjacent to phaser control before moving to the starboard nacelle.” Jetal looked up. “I can’t single out Jal Karden for sure, but there is a Kazon lifesign adjacent to Sickbay, in one of the Jeffires Tubes I think.” 

“Get ready to power us up,” Stadi said, watching her sensors for signs of the approaching Talaxian fighters. “This is going to go down quickly.”

“I’m ready, Lieutenant.”

*

Rollins wasn’t sure if it was his better nature or just rib pain that stopped him from feeling any joy a the sight of a shirtless Pete Durst being force-marched into the brig. Durst’s bearing was remarkably proud for a half-dressed, trousers-and-barefoot stroll, and he had the beginnings of bruises forming on the side of his neck and over his left eye.  

Rollins didn’t recognize either of the two Kazon men who gripped Durst by both biceps, but it was Culluh himself following. 

“Open the cell,” Culluh said.

“Maje,” Durst said, meeting Culluh’s gaze evenly and speaking in a soft, loving voice. “I was only keeping Teirna pliable. You know how he gets—”

“Silence.” Culluh’s voice held no inflection. Not even angry passion. 

The forcefield dropped, and the two Kazon shoved Durst bodily into the space. A second later, the forcefield snapped back into being with the telltale sparks of energy pushing particulates in the air. 

“Maje—” Durst tried again, but Culluh turned his back to the cell, facing Rettik, as though Pete Durst didn’t exist.

“He stays here,” Culluh said. “If they try to kill each other in the cell, let them.”

Then he, and the two other guards, left the brig, without another word.

“Teirna okay?” Rollins said, looking up at Durst’s smooth back from where he sat on the cot. 

Durst turned around, and for the first time Rollins saw a look of what might have been genuine confusion on the man’s face. “Teirna? You’re asking if Teirna is okay?”

“I am,” Rollins said. “You used him, manipulated him, seduced him.” Rollins lifted one shoulder. “I feel a certain fraternity.” 

Durst stared at him for a beat, his expression back to one of a man without worry. “He’s fine. He didn’t do anything wrong, in Culluh’s eyes.”

“Huh,” Rollins said. “That’s almost Trabe-level understanding, really. I mean, other than Culluh taking a jealous swing at you.”

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Durst stared down at him. He still didn’t sound angry, just… what? Ever-so-slightly put out?

“Me?” Rollins chuckled. “I’m fine, thanks for asking.” Rollins leaned back against the wall of the cell behind the cot. “I mean, I don’t think I have any broken ribs. Maybe some are fractured, but not broken.”

“Scott.”

 “And he only cut me a dozen times or so.” Rollins lifted his arm and pulled back the sleeve to show Durst the series of wounds Culluh had carved up the length of his forearm. 

“Look,” Durst moved a step forward, and Rollins held up his hand. 

“I may have had the shit kicked out of me, Pete, but if you come one step closer, I will choke you to death myself. You heard your Maje. I’m allowed to kill you.”

Durst stopped, and his hazel eyes widened. “Is that why you did this? To get your hands on me?”

Rollins rose to his full height, and took a single step toward Durst, who held his ground—but Rollins saw the twitch in the man’s neck, and the way goosebumps spread across the man’s bare chest. 

“No, Pete,” Rollins said, dropping his voice to a bare whisper, knowing Rettik was watching them, likely eagre to see them fight. Rollins was fairly sure Rettik had sociopathic tendencies. “I did it because I know you’d never let yourself be thrown in a brig without some way to get out of it, and you’ll be taking me with you, or I really will choke you to death.” 

Durst’s hazel eyes met his, widening slightly.

The ship rocked beneath their feet, alongside a soft rumble, and they both looked up.

“What was that?” Durst said, snapping the question at Rettik, who opened his mouth to answer on a reflex, then closed it with a slow, deliberate sneer. 

“I don’t think he’s going to tell you, Pete,” Rollins said, leaning in close to Pete’s ear and—fine—enjoying Durst’s frustration more than he should. “You’re not in charge any more.”

A moment later, a red alert sounded, and Culluh’s voice came over the comm. “We’re under attack by three Talaxian fighters.” The man’s sneering voice was borderline amused. “Bring all weapons systems online.” 

Rettik glanced at the two of them, then turned back to his control panel. Rollins watched him bringing up a forward view. The man definitely like to watch the violence.

“We can’t let them chase those ships too far from here,” Durst said, whispering the words, low and barely above a breath. “Voyager can’t leave the area.”

“Why not?” Rollins replied in kind, frowning.

But Durst just stared at him. “Can you take him down?” He dipped his chin toward Rettik.

Rollins crossed his arms. Even if he’d learned Durst was no slouch in a fight, Rettik was a very large Kazon. Rollins nodded. 

Durst opened his mouth, about to say something else—probably one of his embedded commands in Voyager’s systems, Rollins thought—when they heard sound of Voyager’s phasers firing. No doubt Voyager was firing at the attacking Talaxian fighters. But as they fired, all the lights went out in the brig, and Rollins heard the forcefield snap off. 

He was in motion a second later, ducking low and moving, crossing the distance between the cell and the control centre opposite the cell despite the burning pain every move sent through his stomach and the suddenly pitch-black interior. A flare of light as Rettik aimed a wild disruptor strike where he and Durst had been a moment earlier allowed him to change his angle just enough to slam his full body into the Kazon guard a moment later, knocking him prone and landing his full body weight on top of Rettik. Rollins gripped the man by the shoulders of his tunic, lifting him even as Rettik struggled to get a grip on him in the dark, and Rollins slammed him down hard against the floor. Rettik grunted in pain, and Rollins shoved his elbow up into the man’s neck, closing the man’s windpipe until Rettik’s hands, twisting and gripping at his arm and hands and sending flares of agony up Rollins’s cut forearm, finally weakened in their efforts. 

He maintained the position until the Kazon’s grip went loose, and then slack. 

Rollins hated killing. He swallowed, forcing himself to move past what he’d just done—he’d think about it later, process it later. Right now, the room was still dark, and he rose, hyper-aware there was still a disruptor on the floor somewhere, and that he shared the room with Pete Durst. He reached out, patting the floor, and managed to grasp the weapon just as emergency lights flickered back on in the room, casting wan shadows. Durst was at the door to the brig, tapping onto the controls, shaking his head. “Locked,” he said.

Rollins rose, still gripping the disruptor, and eyed the control panels for the Brig. “All the power from the brig was drained away,” he said, smiling. At a guess, he’d say someone had re-routed all the power from the Brig into the phaser array. The moment they were fired, the Brig lost all power. Nice move. 1106, he’d wager. 

“Which means I can’t open the door,” Durst said. “Computer,” he raised his voice, but the computer didn’t answer. 

The ship bumped again, another weapon’s hit, though it clearly wasn’t getting through their shields. A moment later, the unmistakable hum of the impulse engines engaging made it clear Voyager was underway.

“No,” Durst said. “Damnit, no!” He turned to Rollins. “Scott, we have to get to Deflector Control before it’s too late. It’s the only way to stop the Kazon Alliance.”

*

“It’s working,” Jetal said. “Voyager and the three raiders are all following the Talaxians into the asteroid field. The fighters are staying behind.” 

“They’re probably confident they won’t need them,” Stadi said. “Okay, Ahni. Give me everything we’ve got.”

“Powering up all systems,” Jetal said, tapping in the controls with quick, precise commands. All around them, the lighting in the Cochrane returned to full illumination, and Stadi’s readings filled in with active scans and the thrusters, impulse engines, weapons, and shields all lit up in ready mode.

She raised the shields, and laid in her course. 

“I’m going pass close enough for us to wave at the Bridge on the way by,” Stadi said. “Lock in our targets.” 

“Setting target locks,” Jetal said. 

“Engaging at three-quarters impulse,” Stadi said, and the Cochrane leapt toward Voyager and the three raiders giving chase to Commander Paxim’s trio of ships. 

“I think they’ve spotted us,” Jetal said, after a moment. “One of the raiders is starting to come about.”

“Too late,” Stadi said with a smile, feeling the unrestrained joy of flying as she tapped the Cochrane into a strafing run overtop of Voyager.

“Firing,” Jetal said, the moment they were in range. They pelted Voyager’s shields, targeting each of the emitters in turn with precision phaser strikes one after the other. 

They didn’t stop after, instead following the Talaxian fighters toward the asteroid field.

“Thirty seconds until the permitter of the field,” Jetal said. “I’m reading Voyager’s shields at sixty-five percent, and there’s a growing variance on the aft emitter.”

Stadi smiled. Better than they could have hoped for, really. It would take a few more hits to lower Voyager’s shields, even with 1106’s help misaligning the aft emitter.

“They’re locking phasers,” Jetal said, then frowned. “I think.”

“You think?”

“Unless I’m mistaken, they’re having targeting uses.”

“Thank you, 1106,” Stadi said. “But I’ll take evasive maneuvers, just in case.”

The phasers did indeed miss them, though not by much. Likely whoever was at Voyager’s tactical station had realized the targeting sensors needed adjusting. She wondered if that was the shot that would release Lieutenant Rollins from his cell, or if the first series of phaser bursts Voyager had taken at the Talaxian fighters already accomplished it. It had been Jetal’s idea to tie in the power from the brig systems to the phasers, and it had been an inspired move.

Whatever help you can give me, Scott, Stadi thought, then turned her full attention to dodging the incoming fire from Voyager, which grew more and more accurate.

*

The door to the brig opened from the other side, jerking and stuttering. 

Rollins raised his disruptor, ready to take a shot—then lowered it, disbelief washing through him.

“Lieutenant,” Jal Karden said. The lanky, young Kazon looked a little worse for wear, and had an open cut on his right cheek, but he held a type-two phaser in his hand steadily enough. His other hand was on a manual actuator still attached to the door.

“Karden,” Rollins said. “Thanks for the assist. Was the cell-door you?”

“1106,” Karden said. “He’s keeping the photon torpedo launcher offline. We—”

The ship trembled with a series of rapid hits, and Rollins glanced up. 

“That’s probably Lieutenant Stadi,” Karden said. “She wanted us to do as much damage as we could to the shields.” 

“We need to get to Deflector Control,” Durst said.

Karden frowned at the man, before glancing back at Rollins. “That’s the traitor.” 

“I’m afraid your reputation precedes you, Pete,” Rollins said. 

“Can we put him back in the cell?” Karden said.

“He’s likely got a hundred commands into the system to let himself out. Better we keep him with us,” Rollins said. “But if he starts talking to the computer, feel free to stun him.” 

That earned him a dark look from Durst, but on the list of things he gave a shit about, Durst’s opinion didn’t rank. That said…

“Deflector Control is as good a place as any to do some damage to the shields,” Rollins said. “We need to get down to Deck 11.” He eyed Durst, flicking the disruptor. “Lead the way, Pete. And I meant it about any commands to the computer.”

Durst’s jaw clenched, and he crossed his arms over his bare chest like he was about to argue for a moment, but shook his head, and stalked out into the corridor and started climbing into a Jeffries Tube access port already opened across from the brig.

“This where you came in?” Rollins said to Jal Karden as Durst crawled inside.

Karden nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“You have done a great job, Karden,” he said, crawling in after swapping weapons with Karden, who handed him the phaser in exchange for the disruptor. “When this is over, I’m going to help you qualify for the enlisted exam. We’re getting you in a uniform.” 

Behind him, he heard Karden’s breath catch.

“Thank you, sir.”

Karden sealed the tube after he’d crawled in, and Rollins worked to keep apace with Durst, not wanting the man to get ahead. His arm burned where Culluh had cut him and Rettik had squeezed, and his ribs sent bolts of pain up and down his chest as he crawled, but he’d be damned if he’d show it in front of Peter Durst.

Voyager jolted again, and then again, and again. He glanced up. “Apparently Stadi brought friends,” he said.

“She did, sir,” Karden said behind him. “She brought a lot of friends.”

*

From among the asteroid field, four Federation shuttles, the Pel, and six Sikarran fighters leapt up in wide arcs just as the Cochrane and the three Talaxian fighters took cover. On the Cochrane, Stadi and Jetal co-ordinated the attack, even as she used the asteroid field herself to bob and weave around the rocks in paths the Kazon Raiders couldn’t possibly equal. 

“Kalita, take your group for a strafing run on the port Raider,” Stadi said. “Focus on their weapons.”

“Aye, Lieutenant,” Ensign Kalita said, and a moment later two of the Federation shuttles and three of the Sikarran fighters spun off in a fly-by, phasers pinpointing the Raider’s weapon ports. By the time the Sikarran fighters were taking their shots, the hits were punching through the Raider’s shields.

“Fighter two,” Jetal said from beside her, addressing one of the Talaxian fighters. “I’m reading damage to your impulse engines. Make for the asteroid field for cover and stabilize.”

“Understood,” the Talaxian lieutenant’s reply was curt, but Stadi noted he obeyed. 

“Baytart, your group is up,” Stadi said.

“Acknowledged,” Baytart said. The Pel led a fly-by of Voyager, phasers still aiming for her shield emitters. The Vidiian shuttle had fantastic maneuvering capabilities, Stadi thought. And Baytart knew how to fly her like no one else.

“Voyager’s shields?” Stadi said, glancing at Jetal as the Cochrane took a glancing hit from the starboard Kazon Raider. She glanced down. The Cochrane’s shields read eighty percent, but a few more hits would take them down quickly.

“Still holding, but the fluctuations are increasing.” Jetal tapped her console. “Not quite enough yet, Lieutenant.”

“Okay, Paxim,” Stadi said. “We’re up again.”

“Lead the way, Lieutenant,” Paxim said.

Stadi flipped the Cochrane in a tight arc, and aimed her back at Voyager, two Talaxian fighters by her side.

*

The climb seemed to take forever, and by the time they reached the correct junction, Rollins couldn’t maintain his facade. He was in real pain; sweating from it, in fact. He was also fairly sure most of the cuts on his arm had reopened. 

Durst’s bare back ahead of him felt like he was being taunted, and he gripped the phaser with a deliberate care as he climbed forward through the section of tube, when Durst glanced over his shoulder. “There isn’t usually anyone here,” he said. “But just in case, give me the phaser.” He held out his hand for the weapon, and Rollins had to push down a rogue laugh.

“You have to be kidding,” he said. 

“There’s no room for you to get past me and go first,” Durst said. “You’ll have to trust me, Scott.”

Rollins stared at him, considering exactly how to respond, and then deciding on brevity. “No.”

Durst swore, then turned back to the panel, tapping in the command carefully as another series of jolts knocked them against the plating of the tube. He pushed the panel open slowly, leaning the barest amount forward and looking left and right before lowering the cover to the ground and working his way out of the tube. 

Rollins followed him, doing his best not to flinch in pain as he straightened up. Maybe he’d been wrong about none of his ribs being broken.

“I need you to let me initiate the deflector,” Durst said, taking a step away from him. Rollins raised the phaser, and he stopped. Durst’s hands clenched into fists. Behind them, Karden slid out of the tube.

“Why?” Rollins said.

“Because if you don’t, the Kazon Alliance will continue to expand after we leave, and with the influence of the Krowtonan Guard and that Trabe leader, Mabus. Between Mabus and the Krowtonans, they’ll dominate space all through this quadrant.”

Rollins blinked. “Isn’t that what you were trying to do?”

“No,” Durst raised both hands. “I was trying to stabilize the power among the sects until we got out of their space. I always intended to set things right before I left.”

“Set things right,” Karden said, scowling. “You mean betray them. You joined the Kazon-Nistrim just to betray them?”

“Well done,” Durst’s voice was borderline droll, and he lifted both hands, palms up. “Of course.” He shrugged. “It’s the only way. Which is why I—”

The disruptor beam flared across the room from the opposite corner, striking Durst on the left side of his chest and sending him backwards with a cry of pain. Rollins spun and crouched, only spotting Teirna as he started to duck back behind the Main Deflector Control console where he must have been hiding even before they’d exited the Jeffries Tube. 

Rollins fired once, but Teirna threw himself to the ground.

“You were going to betray us! Betray me! From the start!” Teirna popped up again, and Rollins dove one way, Karden the other, as Teirna fired at them. 

This time, Rollins timed it well. His stun clipped Teirna in the shoulder and the man fell back with a grunt, his disruptor falling from nerveless fingers. A second hit sent him slumping, unconscious.

“You all right, Karden?”

“He missed me.” Karden rose from behind the console.

Despite himself, despite everything, Rollins moved to where Durst lay sprawled on the floor. A bubble of blood popped on his lips. The disruptor had burned through the flesh of his chest on the left side, exposing bone and had done serious damage down that side of his…

One lung. Rollins remembered Pete Durst only had one lung.

Durst was struggling to speak. Rollins tugged off his uniform jacket, not even sure he could use it to stop the bleeding.

Not even sure why he was trying to.

“Computer,” Durst spat the word with a small spray of blood, and Rollins fumbled to get his hand over Durst’s mouth, but Pete was too quick. “Initiate Durst S-Three-One-A.” 

Rollins swore, let go of Durst, and got himself to the control panel. A series of commands were already initiating, all of them in this room. 

“What the hell have you done?” Rollins said, trying to override. The computer, however, didn’t respond to his commands. Power was rerouting from… pretty much everywhere. “Pete? What did you—?” He glanced down at Durst, who was gasping tiny, short breaths that gurgled worse and worse and…

As he watched, Pete Durst’s struggle for breath ended. His hazel eyes locked with Rollins’ gaze in a moment of clear, legible agony, then his head tipped to the side as his body went limp and lifeless.

Rollins couldn’t even begin to decide how to feel. 

“Lieutenant?” Karden said, pointing. Rollins glanced at the display Karden was indicating and he saw the main deflector realigning to a specific oscillating frequency aimed at the nearby Kazon Alliance subspace relay. 

The power spiked again, and he stared. Durst’s program was feeding warp engine power into the deflector now.  

“I can’t stop this. And I don’t think we want to be in here when this goes off,” Rollins said. “All the safeties are offline. Get back to the tube.”

A rising, wailing pitch began to fill the room.

“The tube, go!” Rollins said, and almost lifted Karden bodily into the opening. He spared a thought for the stunned Teirna, but there wasn’t time.

He closed the panel just as the first overloads started spraying sparks through Deflector Control.

*

“What the hell is that?” Stadi watched Voyager’s Main Deflector flared with white-blue light, flickering rapidly and blasting out a signal across the entirety of the subspace band.

“It’s a high powered directed oscillating frequency,” Jetal said. “It’s aimed at the subspace relay. I’m not sure what—”

The rear of the port Kazon Raider exploded. 

Stadi stared, trying to make sense of her readings. “Their torpedoes just detonated inside their torpedo bay.”

“It’s not just them,” Jetal said. “I’m seeing a buildup on—”

The starboard Kazon Raider’s torpedo tubes erupted in a series of explosions, and then the ship itself came apart in a series of more extreme secondary explosions. The first raider seemed to have fared better, but as she watched, both nacelles on the raider went dark. 

The third exploded a second later.

“It’s not just these three,” Jetal said. “I’m reading detonations on half the fighters back at the moon.”

Stadi looked at her readings, and blinked. “Voyager’s shields are down.” 

“It’s the signal,” Jetal said, her voice rising. “That oscillation is taking a lot of power to maintain.” 

“Stadi to attack fleet,” Stadi said. “We’re go for transport! Wave one, the Bridge, co-ordinate through Ensign Jetal.”

The various voices of Voyager’s crew, as well as the Talaxians and Sikarrans, came through the channel. She rose from the chair after making sure Voyager the Conn controls had been transferred to Jetal’s side of the shuttle, then drew her phaser and crouched, ready.

“On my mark,” Jetal said. “Three. Two. One. Energizing.”

*

Stadi and four Talaxians beamed in around the Bridge, which was in disarray—sparks burst from the Engineering console, where Maje Jal Culluh and another Kazon were mid-way through yelling at each other about the Main Deflector.

Phaser-fire filled the bridge barely after the first of the Kazon even realized they’d been boarded. 

In the end, Stadi left Culluh standing. She needed him to make this as painless as possible. The Maje regarded her grimly.

“If you tell your people to stand down, right now,” she said. “I’ll take them back to your moon, and we’ll even tractor the surviving raider back, assuming you haven’t ruined the tractor beam.”

If furious thoughts alone could kill, Stadi and the Talaxians would be dead. But they couldn’t. Let the man feel all the fury he wanted. He knew he was defeated, though to Stadi’s amusement he was just as upset he’d been defeated by a woman as he was upset he’d been defeated at all. He didn’t know what, exactly, Durst had done to the deflector, but he knew Durst had promised his destructive pulse would never be used on the Nistrim, and the realization of the man’s betrayal was settling in like a cancer in the man’s psyche. 

“We made the mistake of trusting Durst, too,” Stadi said. When Culluh blinked in surprise, she tapped her temple with her free hand. “I’m a telepath. Now, since we both know you’re beaten, how about you spare your people?”

A study in cold fury, Culluh tapped the combadge he wore. “Culluh to all decks,” he said, voice leaden. “We are defeated. Stand down.” 

Stadi gestured with her phaser, and Culluh stepped away from the Engineering station, which was still issuing alarms. 

“How are we doing?” she said to Paxim, who’d taken the Ops station and was working the controls with only slight hesitation. “I’m reading around eighty more Kazon lifesigns on board. I can’t seem to shut down the defl—”

The oscillating signal, and the alerts, stopped suddenly.

“I didn’t do that,” Paxim said.

“Never look a gift horse in the mouth,” Stadi said, and then at the man’s frown, she raised her free hand. “It’s a human saying. I’ll explain later.” She tapped her combadge. “Jetal, get ready to start beaming the Kazon to Cargo Bay One as soon as I’ve locked it down.”

“Aye, Lieutenant.”

*

Ro Laren eyed the sun, low on the horizon. Three days since the shuttle with Lan, Hajar, Niles and Sullivan had left, and nothing yet. Any number of things could have gone wrong, but it was too soon to think like that. 

She started for the lookout, what they’d started calling the jutting rocks that formed a kind of natural permitter around their new camp. The location was much improved over the first—not the least of which because an active volcano had decided to erupt after the shuttle had left, which had sent them packing for higher ground. 

At least they hadn’t seen more of the native humanoids.

The second camp had more cover, and along with the shelters Roberto and Crenshaw had put together, they were faring much better. Water was still an issue—solar stills continued to be their only dependable source—but they had enough of them now to fill the bio sample containers and other containers they’d fashioned out of the bits they’d gathered. Soon they’d make a move further toward the mountains, eventually hoping to be within reach of a spring or—if it came to it—the snow they could spot at higher altitudes. 

They’d buried Tsao’s body in a rock cairn at the previous campsite. It wasn’t enough for the man, but it was the best they could do.

Ro arrived at the lookout, and found Kes and Li-Paz sitting together, he with his arm around her, and she leaning her head on his shoulder. 

“Anything?” Ro said.

Kes shook her head. “No, Commander.” 

That was good.

“You two take a break, and get some water,” she said. “I’ll take a turn.”

They turned to face her. Li-Paz’s chin—and only his chin—was dark with scruff that wasn’t quite a beard. She hadn’t known before now the man couldn’t actually grow one. 

“I didn’t sense any of the humanoids in the last few hours,” Kes said, rising and dusting off her knees. Her blond hair, curling and blowing in the breeze, was as matted and dirty as Ro knew her own had to be. She was considering having someone cut it off—assuming they came up with something that could cut hair remotely evenly. 

“Thanks, Kes.”

“We think they’ve realized we’re not here to attack,” Li-Paz said, and Ro glanced at Kes for confirmation.

“Our last two interactions, they didn’t feel hostile to me,” Kes said. “As long as we keep Cing’ta out of sight, I think we can maintain the peace.”

‘That’s good,” Ro said. Whatever it was about a blue humanoid that seemed to incite anger among the natives, it had worked to keep them at bay long enough for them to try more peaceful overtures. They’d even left some of the cucumber-like vegetables out where the natives would find them, a kind of peace-offering. They’d taken them, the start of what Ro hoped would be a nonviolent relationship. “Thanks, Kes.”

Kes nodded. “You’re welcome. I…” She paused, and her bright blue eyes seemed to gaze somewhere between the two of them.

“Kes?” Li-Paz said.

Kes turned, looking not out over the field, but instead up.

At the sky.

Ro turned. With the sun setting, it was hard to see at first, but then she spotted it: a fleck of reddish light, bright and moving quickly. Then another. And two more. 

After a moment, she could see them for what they were.

Federation shuttlecraft. 

“Go tell the others,” Ro said.

Kes and Li-Paz, both grinning, moved off to do just that.

Ro walked out onto the flat, rocky planet that had been their home for more than two weeks now, and waited for the first of the shuttles, the Kelly, to land. The Type-8 shuttle’s hatch opened a moment later, and Ensign Shannon Kalita stepped out. She had a medkit in hand. 

“Before you ask, we found Sahreen and the others. Niles is okay. Also? You look like hell,” Kalita said, her brown eyes soft with sympathy, but her voice as snarky and sarcastic as ever. “A lot’s happened, and I can fill you in on the way. Ready to go home?”

Ro crossed the distance, and hugged Kalita tighter than she’d hugged anyone in years.

Behind them, the other shuttles landed in turn.

*

Rollins winced as the Sikarian man moved the dermal regenerator up and down the length of his forearm. 

“Sorry, Scott,” the man said. “I’m afraid I make a better botanist than medic.”

“You’re doing fine,” Rollins said. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t have a deft touch with any of the tools in Sickbay. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

The Sikarian smiled. Tall and slender, with dark hair and tan skin, Stadi said the man had been one of the first to offer them aid. “Fenjesen Olrec,” he said. “But please, call me Fenj.” He slowed down the movement with the dermal regenerator, and the tugging sensation lessened to something less painful. 

“Thank you, Fenj,” Rollins said. The name was familiar, and he realized he’d read it in a report. “Wait. You and your heartmate helped the Captain and Doctor Fitzgerald as well, didn’t you?” 

“We did.” Fenj nodded, his attention still on Rollins’s arm as he worked. “We owed Alex for warning us about the Magistrate. And it was no hardship; our time with Aaron and Jeff was a joy. And then when your Pablo arrived and told us what happened to your crew…” His brown eyes flicked up. “The Kazon, with Voyager’s technology?” He shook his head. “That wasn’t a situation that could stand.” He let out a small, dry laugh. “It’s also a perfect example of why our Magistrates should had seen fit to actually help your people in the first place, which Cash will absolutely be writing into his next treatise.” He lifted the dermal regenerator. “The cuts have stopped bleeding.”

“Thank you.”

The door to Sickbay opened, and Ensign Mary Harper came through. She looked at him, her gaze tight with tension. He’d left her the Bridge while he came to Sickbay to deal with his cuts, and had happily found Fenjesen already here helping a Talaxian from one of Commander Paxim’s ships who had a cut on his forehead. Given Emmett was still offline, Stadi and most of the other pilots were warping to the planet where the Maquis had been left, and Jetal and the other engineers and security officers who’d originally been with them had their hands full in Main Engineering restoring systems, Fenj was a good-enough second-best.

“Ensign?” he said. Harper didn’t rattle easy. Even after losing multiple people she’d held dear on their arrival in the Delta Quadrant she’d continued to be one of his best. He tended to consider her his second-in-command. 

“Sir…” She smiled at Fenjesen, who seemed to catch the vibe running between the two, and put down the dermal regenerator. 

“I’m going to get back to repairs,” he said. “Cash and I were helping Ensign Jetal with thruster control assembly.” 

“Thank you, Fenj, again.” Rollins said.

“Of course. Find us when you stop to eat, okay?” Fenj touched his shoulder, then left. He and his heartmate hadn’t hesitated to stay behind on Voyager to help them restore systems and man stations alongside the Talaxians long enough to get them to where Durst and Culluh had stranded Captain Cavit and the rest of the Starfleet crew.

They were lucky to know these people. They’d made real friends in the Delta Quadrant. 

“What is it?” Rollins said, once the door to Sickbay closed.

“I checked Lieutenant Cing’ta’s Cloud program, to check on Kazon Alliance communications, like you said, and…” Harper swallowed. “Sir, it’s flooded with distress calls.” 

“Distress calls?” Rollins frowned.

“That oscillation signal Durst sent through the main deflector?” Harper said, her brown eyes meeting his. “Your suspicion was right. The sensor logs show it caused containment failure in the Kazon torpedoes.”

Rollins nodded. He’d expected as much, and it made sense with everything that had happened with Teirna’s shuttle as well, back when they’d first found the man. Durst’s back-pocket way to betray those he’d given upgraded torpedos was to detonate the torpedoes. It had a certain cruel, brutal symmetry to it. 

“The thing is, Lieutenant,” Harper said, taking a breath. “It seems to have affected every Kazon-Alliance ship within range of the subspace relay network Durst help them build. From what I can gather, the signal transmitted through the network, and every relay set up a resonance oscillation in their own transmitters.”

It took a second for what Harper had said to sink in. “Long-range sensors?” he said.

“Every Kazon-Alliance ship we had on long-range sensors was affected. More than three quarters of them were completely destroyed, most of the rest…” She exhaled. “I only found two still moving at warp after the signal. And their subspace relay network is slagged.”

“Thank you, Ensign,” Rollins said. “I’m done here. I’ll head up to the Bridge. I’d appreciate you joining 1106 in Main Engineering. It’s been walking Jetal through its sabotage efforts. If you could start undoing whatever it did to the torpedo targeting systems, I’ll keep working on the shields. I’d still like to have functional tactical systems, just in case.” 

“Aye, sir.” Harper nodded, and left.

 On the Bridge, Rollins sat alone at the Conn and stared at the readings until his vision blurred. When they’d recovered Voyager, they’d beamed aboard the Kazon raider survivors, then transported Culluh, Teirna—who’d survived though he’d suffered burns—and their people back down to their colony, and hadn’t stuck around to wait to see if any other Kazon ships were on their way. Lieutenant Stadi hadn’t wanted to lose any time recovering the crew, heading back out in the shuttles for the Maquis, leaving him in charge of Jetal and the others as they worked to restore Voyager’s warp engines on their way to the Captain and the rest of the crew. 

Looking at the long range scanners and listening to the packets on the Cloud system, Rollins realized Harper was right. Pete Durst hadn’t just disabled the local Kazon-Nistrim ships.

With his dying words, he’d single-handedly all but destroyed the entire Kazon Alliance fleet.

Rollins thought of the man’s body, lying in the morgue, and tried to wrap his head around the scale of pain and death Durst had inflicted on the Kazon, Krowtonan Guard, and the Trabe.

*

Captain’s Log, stardate 50032.7. Thanks to the efforts of Lieutenant Veronica Stadi’s group, Lieutenant Scott Rollins, Dr. Emmett Hall, Jal Karden, and Automated Personnel Unit 1106, our surviving crew are all back aboard Voyager, and repairs are still underway, though we’re maintaining warp four. We’ve confirmed Lieutenant Rollins’s revelation about Peter Durst’s subspace oscillation signal, and see no sign of Kazon Alliance activity between us and the edge of Kazon space.

Commander Ro is planning to lead a ceremony for Crewman Kevin Tsao and Crewman Lora Schmidt tomorrow morning. We’ll add their names to the memorial in the Arboretum. 

Seventeen days. It is such a short amount of time, and not even the longest I’ve been away from Voyager since we arrived in the Delta Quadrant. And yet, I think it may go down as the longest seventeen days I’ve ever lived.

“I thought I told you to get some sleep.”

Cavit turned in his desk chair. He hadn’t even heard Fitzgerald come into their quarters, and he raised his hands. “Just making a log entry. I’m going right back to bed.” He lifted his chin. “Did Cash and Fenj get underway okay?”

“They did,” Fitzgerald said. 

“I’ll miss them,” Cavit said.

“Hey, you had your chance with Cash back on Dedestria.” Fitzgerald smiled as he said it, though, clearly teasing. 

“Cash clearly only had eyes for Alex,” Cavit said. Then he tipped his head. “And maybe Scott.” 

“Between you and me, I think Alex was on the edge of tears when they said goodbye,” Fitzgerald said. “Those three spent every hour they had together.”

“You’ll check in with him?” Cavit said.

“I will,” Fitzgerald said. “Now, do you have another deflection, or are you going to go to bed?”

“Ouch.” Cavit pressed a hand to his chest. “Yes, Doctor, heading to bed, Doctor.” 

“Good. Your healing shoulder and concussion with both thank you.” Fitzgerald paused. He’d shaved, showered, put on a new uniform, and Cavit knew he’d spent most of the day in Sickbay seeing to everyone alongside T’Prena, Kes, and Sullivan—both of whom had needed some care themselves, given how little water they’d been surviving on. Cavit had been the first into surgery once Alex, Lieutenant Nicoletti, and Crewman Li-Paz had gotten Dr. Hall restored, which had also meant he’d been the first discharged back to quarters, where he’d spent some time putting things right.

When Fitzgerald’s eyes narrowed as he looked around their quarters, Cavit knew he’d been caught.

“You cleaned up,” Fitzgerald said. He didn’t sound angry, exactly. More like exasperated.

“I couldn’t stand the thought of Culluh, or whoever, having touched everything in here.” When they’d first gotten back to their quarters, it was clear the Kazon hadn’t cared much for personal belongings. Nothing had been broken, at least. 

“Bed,” Fitzgerald said, walking up to him and holding out his hand. “Now. I mean it.”

Cavit took it, and let Fitzgerald help him up. “Are you joining me?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

“That’s what it will take,” Cavit said, nodding seriously, though he imagined his smile was giving him away. 

Fitzgerald paused in the entry to their bedroom, and Cavit saw what he was looking at. Cavit had hung the beautiful green stone Crann Bethadh on the wall. 

“I never got to thank her,” Fitzgerald said. The gift had been from Schmidt, who’d died on Hanon IV. “It looks good there.”

“It does,” Cavit said. “Which reminds me.” He opened the top drawer of their chest of drawers and pulled out a small, flat framed image. “Merry Christmas. Sorry it’s late. Also, it’s not wrapped.”

Fitzgerald took it, smiling widely at his first glance. “A green dunnock,” he said. “Did you paint this?”

“No.” Cavit shook his head. “I had the computer approximate a painting from one of the images I took of the birds in my tricorder.” He laughed, imagining making an attempt at actual painting. “I have no artistic ability, Jeff.”

“It’s lovely, and one hell of a coincidence.” Fitzgerald laughed, and Cavit fell in love all over again at the man’s soft, wonderful laugh. “I love it.”

“I’m glad.” Cavit tilted his head. “Coincidence?” 

Fitzgerald held up one finger. “Hang on.” He crossed back into their main living area, and returned with a small round silver object, which he handed to Cavit. Cavit looked at it, flipping open the lid. The sound of birds chirping softly emanated from the box. He blinked, recognizing the song from their mornings together on the planet that had been their home for over a month.

“The dunnocks,” he said. They’d both chosen the same bird for their Christmas gifts.

“The dunnocks.” Fitzgerald smiled. “I recorded them.”

Cavit wrapped his arms around Jeff Fitzgerald and kissed him. “Bed?”

“Bed.”