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Chapter Text

Jenny Delaney's heart was pounding as she stepped into Captain Janeway's Ready Room. Through the spacious window, the sharp curves of Deep Space Nine cut against the stars. The Cardassian structure was an unwanted reminder of the entire situation.

"Crewman Delaney."

She forced her gaze away from the window. Captain Janeway sat at her desk, looking up at Jenny over a PADD. Her regal Victorian bun made the captain even more intimidating. Jenny hoped she'd made herself looked presentable. Her dark curls were pulled back into a short braid, and her green science uniform was fresh out of the replicator.

"Captain," Jenny replied with military professionalism.

"Crewman," Janeway smiled softly. "This isn't a court marital. At ease."

Jenny relaxed somewhat, and forced a small smile. "Yes, Captain."

Janeway's blue eyes returned to her PADD. "Jennifer Eponine Delaney, age 22, born on a corn farm near Montreal—I'm a farm brat myself—majored in Stellar Cartography at Starfleet Academy. You chose the shorter program, graduating with the rank of Crewman, though most of your professors felt you could've made the full ensign in just one more semester. You've served the last five months aboard the U.S.S. Hemmer. And," Janeway took a sip of coffee. "…ever since your final year at the Academy, you've been putting in regular requests to be notified about any information regarding a member of the Maquis named Megan Delaney."

Jenny wasn't sure if this was a rhetorical question. Only when the captain glanced back up at her expectantly did she reply, "That's correct, Captain."

Janeway's blue eyes lingered on Jenny for a moment, then returned to her PADD.

"Captain T'Rein speaks highly of you. In fact, she says you're due for a promotion soon." She set down the PADD. "Sounds like a pretty good position you're leaving behind. A promotion aboard the Hemmer—that's a Nebula class, much bigger and flashier than Voyager. I'm curious, how did you find out that Voyager was assigned to capture the ship your sister is serving on?"

"Captain T'Rein pulled a few strings for me." Jenny replied, probably a bit too honestly.

"…Well, I don't suppose Starfleet can always keep something like that completely classified anyway. The Maquis interact with civilians in the area, and word spreads. You're far from the first person to make a request like this; families have been torn apart by this situation. Of course, Starfleet normally prohibits relatives participating in missions of this nature. But Captain T'Rein argues that an exception can be made."

Another awkward silence followed. Finally, the captain prodded, "This is your chance to make your argument, Crewman."

Jenny cleared her throat. "My sister and I have always been close, and I've always had her trust. If anyone can convince Megan to come in quietly, it's me."

"But can she also convince you?"

Jenny tried to imitate the calm air of her Vulcan captain from the Hemmer. "Everyone who knows us will tell you that I'm the more dominant twin. Always have been."

When Janeway spoke again, her voice was stern. "I won't sugarcoat this. Your sister will be lucky if she ends up in prison. We have a bit of a situation on our hands, regarding this Maquis vessel. We're not certain if anyone onboard is still alive at this point."

Jenny felt herself grow cold. From the captain's face, Jenny realized she'd probably visibly gone pale.

"That said," the captain added, "I'm an optimist. Perhaps it's wishful thinking, seeing as I've got an old friend aboard that ship."

That hit Jenny like a splash of water. The captain suddenly seemed less frightening, more human.

"Crewman, I want to help you find your sister. You deserve to be reunited with her, as much as I do with my security officer. But I have to be certain that this is a decision I won't regret. As an officer aboard my ship, I'll expect you to exercise the same objectivity as any other crewmember. We might find that the Maquis crew has been wiped out. We might find them alive, but be drawn into a battle with them. I need to know that you'll be prepared for the worst, and that you won't lose your sense of duty."

Jenny hoped what she was about to say wouldn't come off as snide; it was the only convincing argument she could come up with. "I didn't lose my sense of duty to Starfleet when my brother-in-law was killed by the Cardassians, and I didn't lose it when my sister joined the Maquis. And I won't aboard Voyager either." She then improvised a little white lie. "I'm only doing this as a duty to my sister. Whatever path she's chosen, she knew the risks. And I'll know that I did everything I could."

The captain searched Jenny's eyes, as if trying to read her.

"In that case," Janeway's mouth turned up into a small smile, "Welcome aboard Voyager, Miss Delaney."

A weight flew off Jenny's chest, leaving her feeling like a wet noodle. Still fighting to appear rigid, and feeling oddly guilty about duping the captain with that last line, she replied in a shaking voice, "Thank you, Captain."

"Thank me after we've found the Val Jean."

Chapter Text

The Badlands

Six Days Earlier

Smoke billowed through the Val Jean's small engine room, as the ship rocked and tumbled. Megan Delaney had to grip her console to keep from being thrown to the ground. It wasn't easy to focus on navigation while also working to keep one's balance aboard a ship being showered by Cardassian torpedoes, but nearly a year in the Maquis had taught Megan how to multitask. While Commander Chakotay piloted the ship up on the Bridge, it was Megan's job to monitor the space he was taking them through and send him instant warnings on any anomalies or obstacles, as her station received updates from his on the ship's course.

Megan's fellow Maquis ran and stumbled past her, fighting to keep the ship together. A few feet from her, Seska gripped the railing around the small warp core, typing furiously at her station. Buck-toothed Michael Jonas lay below on his stomach working on some wires, trying to keep Seska's console working for her.

Megan's station received a startling update, just before another blast rocked the ship. Seska swore loudly in Bajoran. Megan managed to keep steady, but a couple of her shipmates went flying. Chell landed draped over Megan's console, his large blue crescent-moon right in her face. Gripping her console with one hand, Megan bodily shoved the Bolian off her station with one elbow. In the Maquis, you sometimes had to get rough to get things done.

"Sorry Chell," she called, without looking away from her star-chart.

The Bolian uttered a muffled reply of forgiveness. Shaking her short brown hair out of her face, Megan squinted at the readings on her console. "Chakotay's taking us into the Badlands?!"

Seska stared from where she clutched the warp core's railing. Then the Bajoran's face melted, and she breathed, "Prophets, I love that man."

The corner of Megan's mouth turned up in a small smile. She didn't exactly know what Seska and the commander's relationship was, but Megan had always been a hopeless romantic. She wished, for the millionth time, that she could share the gossip with her sister, and hear Jenny's speculation on Chakotay and Seska's future together.

But if Jenny were here, she'd her smack her arm and snap, Eyes on the road, Meg!

Megan did her best to keep Chakotay updated on every plasma burst the Badlands sent up, but it was like Whack-a-Mole. Suddenly, a strange phenomenon appeared on her sensors. Tuvok no doubt was receiving that moving threat on his sensors up at the Bridge, but she sent him a heads-up anyway.

"Everyone," Megan screamed over the chaos, "hold on to your—"

The next blast finally broke Megan's grip on her console. She just managed to get her arms in front of her face before hitting the floor.

Alarms blared, as smoke went up. Coughing, Megan climbed back to her station, to find the screen flickering. She then realized that the ship wasn't moving anymore.

The engine room was strewn with debris, as well as her shipmates, some of whom didn't appear to be moving. Golwat, a tall Bolian woman, staggered up from the floor, with indigo blood on the side of her blue head. Timothy Lang, a large dark Bijani whose Human appearance hid his alien biology, sat against the wall, covered in nasty looking plasma burns. His eyes rolled back, as he entered a "Bijani pain-trance." Seska had somehow managed to keep her grip on the railing around the warp core, despite her small Bajoran frame. Life under the Occupation had really toughened those poor people up, Megan thought.

B'Elanna Torres suddenly appeared in the doorway. Her dark eyes scanned the obliterated engine room, then found Megan. "Delaney, Chakotay needs you on the Bridge."

"Me? What for, we lost?"

"You could say that."

Seska followed Megan and Torres down the cramped hall, despite no order or permission having been given. But despite her low rank, the Bajoran usually managed to insert herself into all of the important discussions onboard the Val Jean—likely due to her closeness to Torres and Chakotay. So most onboard didn't bother to question Seska's brashness.

The Bridge proved to be in no better shape than the engine room. Miguel Ayala worked to fix something on the ceiling, while Chakotay stood over Tuvok, seated at his station.

The Vulcan glanced up at Megan. "I have double checked my readings, Delaney. But you may wish to confirm them."

Megan glanced at Tuvok's console and swore. "That's impossible!"

"What?" Seska came around to look.

Megan gave her head a small shake. "We're 75,000 light years from the Alpha Quadrant. We're on the other side of the galaxy!"

Seska stared down at the screen, then glanced around the room in shock. Chakotay blinked rapidly and took a deep breath. Tuvok…was Tuvok.

"Hang on," Ayala was still working at some wires in the ceiling. "Just…one…"

The lights suddenly flared on, as full power returned.

A grim voice came over the com. "Bendera to Bridge. We've got casualties, and no medic. Th'lor is dead."

Th'lor, a grizzled old Orion, had been the Val Jean's only officially trained medic. Megan had grown used to losing people over the last couple years, and there were other shipmates she was closer to than the doctor. But a Val Jean without the lovable grouch of a medic was like her old musical troop without their drummer.

Chakotay kept his composure. "Understood." He jerked his head at Torres, Seska and Megan. "You three better get back to Engineering, see who and what you can get patched up."

Torres and Seska stopped to discuss or argue about something. Megan sprinted back down the tight hallway. The smoke from Engineering was now billowing into the corridor. Coughing, Megan shut her eyes, feeling her way down the hall.

A strange tingling sensation came over her, and suddenly the wall she'd been leaning against vanished. She tumbled face-first into the grass.

"See how you like it!" Chel said, helping Megan to her feet.

Megan groaned, "Your blue moon was blocking my readings." Shaking her short brown curls out of her face, she stared at their surroundings. "Where are we?"

Chel's plump blue face contorted into an expression that Megan had come to learn was essentially a Bolian shrug.

They both stared at their new surroundings. It looked like a rural part of Earth. Terran trees, tall grass, an old-fashioned barn. She was on a farm. But not a modern one. It looked like a picture-perfect setting out of the 20th Century. Her fellow Maquis stood, sat and lay around her, looking just as confused as she felt.

"Is everyone alright?" Chakotay called from a few yards away. "And does anyone have a weapon on them?"

Someone else replied grimly, "No…"

Megan quickly felt her old, beaded belt for the phaser she kept at all times, and found it absent. The small pocket-knife she usually kept in her battered black boot was also gone.

Timothy Lang, who was known for storing an assortment of weapons all over his large muscular frame, searched his brown leather jacket and pockets. He even took off both bulky boots and shook them out.

"This was no accident," the Bijani concluded, replacing his boots. "Someone's captured us."

"The Cardassians!" Chell exclaimed.

"This doesn't seem like their style," Chakotay said, scanning the farm with a furrowed brow.

Even Seska, normally the first to voice her suspicion of anything Cardassian related, just looked around the farm in silent confusion.

A strained voice added, "I…don't think it's Cardassians…"

The speaker was Olandra Jor, a human/Betazoid hybrid. She sat under a tree, holding a badly burned hand. Megan headed towards her, but to both women's surprise, a handsome young farmer appeared of the trees and offered Jor his hand.

"Lemme help ya there, Miss!" he offered in an exaggerated Southern drawl.

Blond-haired and blue-eye, he looked like he'd walked right out of a cheesy romance program, with his plaid shirt half-buttoned, and a cowboy hat hanging from a string around his neck. He was "handsome" in the most artificial way Megan had ever seen—not that she necessarily minded that.

Jor accepted the strange man's help, but watched him with narrowed eyes.

"Jor?" Chakotay called, hurrying over.

Her unburned hand still in the strange man's, Jor reported to Chakotay, "I'm not sensing a real person next to me, Commander."

The man looked deeply offended. "Why I assure ya ma'am, I'm as genuine a gentleman as they come!"

Jor smiled politely. "Oh, I'm sure you are. In fact, why don't you tell my friend Megan all about it, she loves bona-fide gentlemen."

Megan smirked, completely unashamed of her reputation. "Don't mind if I do!" she said hooking her arm around the blonde Southerner's.

Tuvok had caught up to them, and was now scanning the stranger with his clunky old Maquis tricorder.

"He is a hologram," the Vulcan confirmed.

"Who're you callin' a candygram?" the cowboy demanded crossly.

"It's a compliment!" Megan improvised quickly.

Before her new date could ask her to elaborate, Chakotay cut in, his irritation clearly growing. "Excuse me, White Man, but is there any chance you can tell us what the hell's going on?"

"A corn roast is what's goin' on, Partner! And don't'choo 'White Man' me, I'm 1/16th Cherokee you know!"

Chakotay was pinching the bridge of his nose. "Of course you are."

"Commander," Jor's voice was low and urgent. "This might be a head injury talking, but I think I'm feeling a presence of something….alien. All over this place."

Chakotay's hand dropped from his face, and he looked sharply around the farm.

Tuvok, still scanning, confirmed: "I am picking up a powerful energy signature, from all around us. Origin, unknown."

"Damn!" Chakotay grimaced. "Torres might be able to expand the scanning range on these old tricorders, if we can find her. Everyone spread out, see if you can't find a door or a holo-generator, or the rest of our crew. Delaney, why don't you see if you can get any information from the locals."

"Aye Sir." Megan strolled off with her holographic date. "You got a name, Honey?"

"Tex, ma'am."

Megan smiled. "You know, I had a feeling it was going to be…"

Tex proved to be as unhelpful as he was handsome. Megan couldn't get anything out of him except stereotypical farmer drivel. After fifteen minutes, she was positive this hologram didn't even know what the "roll in the hay" he kept inviting her to would even entail. Still, it was a bittersweet stroll. The cartoonish farm reminded Megan of the real one she'd grown up on in Quebec, and the communal farm she and Avi had helped built on Nethuns Prime. After losing her husband to the Cardassians only months into their young marriage, Megan had coped partially with fast rebounds. She figured it had something to do with being a twin, a subconscious aversion to begin alone.

Megan and Tex eventually circled back to the farm house. A whole army of farm caricatures now danced in a circle, while an old hillbilly plucked a banjo. Chakotay, Tuvok, Torres, and several other Maquis were hunkered around. From their postures and tones, it wasn't good. Torres especially seemed close to losing her Klingon temper.

Chakotay was gently pleading with the farm wife. "Ma'am please, we've got a lot of injured people, some of them might die—"

"Fresh corn!" the old woman bellowed, ignoring him.

Chell curiously reached for a cob, but Chakotay stopped the Bolian's hand. "Don't eat anything they give you. That's an order."

Behind them, Torres' rage was visibly growing. "Why the hell does this alien have us on Old McDonald's farm?"

Tuvok offered, "Much of our crew have agricultural backgrounds. It is possible that the entity holding us here has somehow accessed that information, either from our ship's logs or by telepathy, and created this rural environment to pacify us."

Several of the Maquis glanced around the cartoonish farm, clearly insulted. Megan on the other hand gave a laugh.

Hearing her, Chakotay turned and asked, "Any luck with your new boyfriend, Delaney?"

"No," Megan sighed. "And I haven't gotten any information from him either."

"Delaney I'm really not in the mood."

"Sorry Sir."

Gowlett came from around the house, her blue head still sporting a cut. "They keep talking about being 'almost ready' for us."

"All in due time," the farm wife with the corn said cheerily, she walking past them. She added over her shoulder, "We'll have everything ready for you all in just two shakes of a lamb's tail!"

"Have what ready?" Chakotay demanded.

The old woman ignored him, moving towards the corner of the farm house.

"Hey!" Torres stormed after the old woman. "We're talking to you! What the hell are you 'getting ready' for us?"

The hologram disappeared around the corner of the house. Torres ran after her, but then stopped, and looked around frantically. Megan guessed that the hologram had vanished into thin air. Torres shook her head and marched back to the dancing farmers.

"B'Elanna," Chakotay cautioned, but the engineer went right past him, her fists clenched.

Fuming, Torres stormed over to the old man playing the banjo, and shouted, "What the hell is going on? What are you going to do to us? Answer me, you decrepit old fossil!"

The hologram smiled broadly as he strummed away, deliberately ignoring her.

With a roar, B'Elanna ripped the banjo out of his hands and hurled it into a tree, where it shattered.

A fresh banjo instantly materialized in the old hillbilly's hands and he played on, grinning smugly.

Chakotay and Tuvok held Torres back before she could try smashing the player next.

"Commander," Golwat urged, over the sound of a growing commotion in the distance.

Apparently, Torres wasn't the only Maquis who'd been pushed to her limits. From the sound of it, some of the others had come to blows with the holograms. Torres's rage momentarily rescinded, and she looked nervously in the direction of the barn. The group hurried over to investigate.

As they neared the barn, an old woman's voice hollered, "Maniac!"

"Suder!" Chakotay concluded out loud, and quickened his pace.

Lon Suder was a small gray-haired Betazoid who's quiet demeanor tended to flip to psychotic rage on the battlefield. Megan had once found him attractive, but quickly lost interest after some creepy comments he'd made, and witnessing him bash a Cardassian's skull into mush with the end of a phaser-rifle. "Maniac" summed Suder up pretty well.

But before they found Suder, they found a few other Maquis in a scuffle outside the barn. Miguel Ayala and Timothy Lang were struggling with a bearded farmer over a long shotgun. A young woman in a farm dress ran out of the shed roaring, and stabbed Lang in the shoulder with an ice pick. Lang yanked the blade out of him with almost no reaction; that Bijani pain-trance was clearly still in effect.

The group quickened their pace. Against all odds, Chell got there first. His blue fist flew across the farmer's bearded face, stunning him long enough for Ayala to wrestle the gun away. With a wide-eyed roar, Chell then tackled the farmer to the grass like a Summo wrestler. With the gun, Ayala finally convinced the young woman to lower her icepick.

Megan followed Chakotay and Tuvok to the barn. The old farm wife stood in the opened doorway, holding the skirt of her prairie dress fearfully.

"We welcomed you with opened arms, and this is how you repay our hospitality?"

Chakotay gently took the old woman's shoulders. "Ma'am I promise you, we mean you no harm."

"That's gonna be a tough sell Commander," Megan called, looking past them into the barn.

Lon Suder stood panting in a pile of blood-soaked hay, silver hair hanging over his wide black eyes. In one hand he clutched a bloody wrench. Megan was grateful that what was left of his holographic victim's skull was largely buried under the hay, and a bent straw hat.

Chakotay barked, "Suder, stand down!"

The Betazoid blinked out of his trance.

Seska caught up to them, her rusty tricorder out. "Chakotay! I found an energy signature coming from this barn—"

"That means I'm almost ready for you!"

The old woman was somehow now standing behind them, outside the barn, brandishing a sharp pitch fork with a toothy grin. Weaponless, Chakotay, Megan and Seska had no choice but to back into the barn, as the old woman coaxed them in.

Behind them, someone was slammed into the hay. They all turned to see that Suder was now pinned to the ground by his own previous victim—who's head and straw hat were now perfectly restored.

Torres suddenly lunged into the barn, barreling into the old woman. The hologram vanished in a gold hum just before making contact with the floor, leaving Torres to literally hit the hay face-first. The farm matriarch rematerialized standing over her, with her pitchfork clamped around the half-Klingon's neck.

Sneering, the old farm wife taunted, "Isn't anyone hungry for some pumpkin pi—"

Chakotay ran over and delivered a flawless punch to the old woman's face, knocking her into the hay.

Torres shoved the pitchfork off of her and rolled up, ready to fight. Megan saw the old farm woman rise back to her feet, scowling murderously behind crooked glasses. Torres grabbed the discarded pitchfork. But before she could charge, everything suddenly went white.

Chapter Text

"…I mean, Meg and I were never joined at the hip. But our hobbies and social groups always overlapped."

Jenny blew on her small cup of Raktajino. Four hours before Voyager was set to take off, her luggage was already in her quarters, and Quark's bar was abustle with a melting-pot of species. The bar patron sitting next to her said nothing, but Jenny really didn't care if he was listening.

"I mean we were both adventurers, but in different ways. I was the athlete, she was the artist. In high school we sometimes used to swap places and take tests for each other. We almost never got caught. But after graduation I went straight for Starfleet Academy. Megan ran off with a group of her musician friends, to start a communal hippie farm out in the Dematerialized Zone. It's really ironic that she's the one fighting a guerilla war now. Or maybe not; she was always off dong some noble activist cause with her bohemian buddies. I usually only joined in if there was free food…"

Jenny reached below her stool where her fabric bag sat, and pulled out a wrapped package. She peeled away the paper, to reveal an exotic glass plate, covered in intricate designs of brightly colored alien plants and animals.

"I got this for her this morning." Jenny explained. "In the Klingon restaurant where I got breakfast, there was an Ensign Sam Wildman—she's gonna be serving with me on Voyager. Her husband's a Ktarian who runs an antique shop here on the station. Megan loves artsy-fartsy things like this, so…hopefully they'll let her hang it on her prison cell wall." She eyed her neighbor curiously. "You ever been to prison?"

The large, lumpy alien just blinked at Jenny.

"Morn, you'll talk that poor girl's ear off!"

The speaker was a dark-haired woman in a command uniform, with large black eyes. She took the seat on the other side of Jenny, and ordered a glass of water from Quark's dim-witted brother. Turning to Jenny, the woman asked, "Who're you looking for, besides your sister?"

Jenny had encountered enough Betazoids at the Academy and on the Hemmer not to be too startled. "Tom Paris." She sipped her Raktajino coolly.

"Ah, the 'Observer.' I flew him over here."

Jenny looked back at the other woman sharply. "He's here now?"

"Yes, but he's going through some extra security checkpoints. But I could tell you even without being a Betazoid that he'll be at the pub as soon as he's out." She pointed to the antique plate. "That's really neat. Looks like Andorian moon-glass, that stuff's breakable."

"I know." Jenny returned the plate to its paper wrapping and placed it back in her bag. "Hopefully it's not too bumpy of a ride."

"You know," the Betazoid lowered her voice, "You're probably not the only person on Voyager looking for someone in the Maquis. I've been stopping at DS9 a lot lately, and it seems pretty common here. Tell you what, you recommend a good nonalcoholic drink for me to try, and I'll keep a telepathic ear out for anyone else who might be in the same boat as you."

Jenny didn't need to ask the Betazoid how she knew about Jenny's drinking experience. "That's really nice of you. I'm Jenny Delaney, Stellar Cartography."

"Inara Stadi, Helm. Friends just call me Stadi." Stadi nodded at the Dabo wheel, a few feet away. "The Human woman on the left, in the gold. She's anxious about someone she's hoping to find news about soon."

Jenny followed Stadi's gaze to a young woman with brown hair sitting by the Dabo wheel, watching the game impassively.

"And…" Stadi's finger came up, as she "listened" intently to something else. "…him!" She pointed at a humanoid officer with a large leaflike formation on his forehead, walking through the bar with a drink in hand. "The Napean."

Jenny wasn't sure if Napeans had some telepathic abilities like Betazoids, or if he'd just seen Stadi pointing; but in any case, he stopped and looked at them. Jenny pushed herself up from her stool, pinching up her Raktajino.

"Sorry, we weren't trying to be rude," Jenny said. "But I have it on good authority that you're looking for someone on Chakotay's ship, just like I am."

"'Good authority' being a Betazoid?" the Napean asked, glancing at Stadi.

Stadi, still at the bar, gave a small wave with her hand.

The Napean admitted, "Your friend is correct. I'm Lt. Zhul, Junior Grade. I requested a transfer to Voyager because an old friend from Starfleet Academy is aboard Chakotay's ship. Golwat, a Bolian female."

"I'm after my twin sister, Megan Delaney. Identical."

The brown-haired woman near the Dabo wheel was watching them, with a look of restrained yearning.

Catching the woman's eye, Jenny said loudly enough for her to hear, "Why don't we compare notes over some Dabo."

Jenny and Zhul joined the Dabo table, while Stadi remained at the bar. Remembering their bargain, Jenny quickly called over her shoulder, "Iced Raktajino, Azure Double-Mint."

"Thanks!" The Betazoid replied.

Taking a seat at the Dabo game, Jenny carefully placed her bag on the table behind her, careful not to break Megan's plate. She and Zhul introduced themselves to the group. Four or five players were gathered around the wheel, with a small collection of invested onlookers, while a young Bajoran woman named Leeta ran the game. The most enthusiastic player was a stout Bolian woman with sky-blue skin, in a gold uniform.

"Lt. Vo'los," the boisterous Bolian woman said, in an accent that sounded vaguely Wisconsinite to Jenny's Earthling ears. "I'm going to be your chief engineer, after I cream all your pink and brown asses in this game!"

"As if," a ginger Ops officer retorted in a British accent. "Arthur Sullivan, Sully to my shipmates."

The next two players were both DS9 personnel (a gray-uniformed Bajoran nurse, and a Vulcan Starfleet officer), and an Orion engineer from a civilian vessel called the Xhosa. Among the crowd of onlookers were several more Voyager crewmembers, who introduced themselves: a young Bajoran named Tal Celes, and an attractive, dark-haired Trill named Aro Eemz, both on their first assignment; an Irish engineer named Joe Carrey; and finally, the brown-haired woman.

"Natasha Lang, Security," the woman said looking at Jenny, "And I'm looking for a Bijani named Timothy Lang—looks Human, and was raised by Humans." Shuffling her cards she asked casually, "Anyone else looking for someone or something on this mission?"

"A symbiont," Eemz said. "Someday. That's why I joined Starfleet."

"Myself," Sully said, with his eyes on the wheel. "I've been hopping jobs all my life. I just wish I'd figure out where I'm supposed to be in this sodding universe alrea—hey, Dabo!"

Sully collected his winnings, as Leeta prepared the next round. Shuffling her deck, Jenny casually asked Eemz, "You really joined Starfleet to win a worm to stuff inside you?"

"It's the highest honor a Trill can attain," he boasted. "I feel incomplete without a symbiont."

"Have you tried getting a date?"

The Trill's dark eyes lingered on her. "Is there one available?"

"Maybe," she smiled, before laying down her cards and declaring, "Dabo!"

Eemz let out a Trill curse, snapping his fingers.

Leeta, the Bajoran woman running the game, grinned at Jenny. "You'd make a good Dabo Girl!"

"That's because I was one, back in high school…"

Jenny was taken back to the secret Dabo games she and Megan attended in the basement of a high school friend. The twins had had so much fun distracting their classmates as the "Dabo Girls," over a crude Dabo wheel made from a tractor hubcap. And the drinking contests they'd had, long before they were of legal age. Megan had never thought twice about breaking the rules; Jenny sometimes had to push her go out, only because Megan tended to be occupied with her art and music.

Between playing the game and flirting with Eemz, Jenny fantasized about Megan somehow getting a lightened sentence, or simply carrying it out in the form of community service aboard DS9…and all the fun they'd have catching up here between Voyager's missions. Impressing shipmates with her badass con of a sister. Bringing back souvenirs from Voyager's missions, for Megan to work into her jewelry or scrap sculptures…

"Slurs! About my people! At Starfleet Academy…"

Jenny glanced back at the bar to see Quark working his Ferengi manipulation on a poor young Ensign. She sipped her Raktajino, debating whether to intervene. That ensign was cute. Before she could cut in, another officer swooped in and rescued him.

Jenny shifted in her seat. "Is that…?"

She craned her neck, trying to see over the crowd. It was hard to make out the man's features with so many heads and sets of antennae passing in front of him.

Stadi, who now stood near the game with her drink, glanced over her shoulder. "That's Tom Paris."

Sully paused shuffling his cards to glower at Paris. "I can't believe they're letting that piece of Targ-shit wear a uniform."

Stadi grimaced, swirling her drink. "I don't think he's all bad."

"Why're all the women saying that," Sully grumbled.

Stadi said matter-of-factly, "I get the sense that Paris is more of a person with terrible decision-making skills than someone intentionally malicious."

Lt. Vo'los added, "He saved that poor little ensign from getting scammed, that was brotherly."

Jenny excused herself from the game, and made a beeline for Tom Paris. Natasha Lang and Zhul waited behind, trying not to get caught staring.

Paris tossed and arm around the ensign. "Didn't they warn you about the Ferengi at the Academy…?"

"Excuse me, sorry to bother you," Jenny said.

"Hi," Paris's eyes narrowed at her. "Have we met before?"

"You're probably thinking of my twin sister, Megan Delaney. Onboard Chakotay's ship."

The young ensign turned to Paris in surprise. "You were on the Maquis ship?"

"Didn't you read the mission details?" Jenny asked.

"A lot of those details are classified," Paris reminded her. "Sorry, but I can't necessarily share everything I know with you right now. I don't need any more stains on my record."

The ensign looked confused, but apparently decided not to pry at this time.

"You can at least tell me if Megan was alive when you last saw her."

Paris clearly wanted to get away from this conversation. "She's alive, far as I know… She mostly did navigation, non-combat role. If the rest of the ship's still out there, I can't think of a reason she wouldn't be."

An uncomfortable silence followed. Jenny, Paris and the ensign all knew full well that any number of things could have happened.

Zhul cut in. "What about a Bolian female, named Golwat?"

He and Lang had left the Dabo table and caught up to the group. Both were looking at Paris hopefully.

Paris's discomfort seemed to grow, but he also seemed to genuinely think over what he remembered. "I think the nice blue woman who turned her lunch upside-down on me might have been named Golwat. It definitely wasn't 'Smurfette' or 'the Blue Meanie,' she made that much clear."

"Timothy Lang?" Natasha Lang asked. "Bijani? He'd look human, big dark-skinned guy with a buzz-cut…?"

Paris grimaced and shook his head. "I might…look, I didn't get to know all 50 people onboard that ship."

Who weren't attractive women, Jenny added silently.

Paris turned to the cute ensign and said, "We better report in to the captain."

The ensign smiled at Jenny bashfully. "Harry Kim. Ensign, Harry Kim," he stammered before his new friend urged him along.

Natasha Lang sighed, watching them go. "Well that was a lot of help."

Zhul managed a bit more humor. "I must ask Golwat to tell me the story about that encounter with Paris."

"Killed some of her friends and lied about it, maybe."

Jenny, Zhul and Lang turned around to see Sully folding his arms. "You know what he did, before the Maquis? Why he got kicked out of Starfleet?"

Lang replied, "I heard he caused some accident, that killed a few people?"

"And tried blaming it on his dead copilots. Didn't get a prison sentence, because his daddy's an admiral." Sully's freckled face was set in contempt. "Me drug-addicted so-called-father did the same thing when he killed Mum and crippled my brother, driving the hovercraft under the influence—he tried claiming Mum was the one driving—so pardon me for taking this a little personally."

"I'm so sorry," Jenny said.

Sully bit his lip and shook his head. "At least Dad's in prison where he belongs."

The Brit waked off, leaving Jenny feeling numb. If Paris had indeed been able to lie about something like that…his discomfort in answering their questions about their relatives now had some new unpleasant implications. Jenny looked back at the hatch Paris and the cute ensign had left through, wondering what he'd left out about her sister.

Chapter Text

Jenny combated her anxieties with the excitement of being aboard a new ship. Voyager was indeed much smaller than the Hemmer, but on the other hand, it was a brand new class of starship. She spent her free time before her shift exploring Voyager's corridors, building a map in her head and meeting her shipmates. She checked into Sickbay with Dr. Alvarez and nurse T'Pai; The Vulcan somehow managed to be more approachable than the disgruntled human doctor. Jenny decided to do her best to stay out of Captain Janeway's impressive hair, until they found the Maquis vessel.

She took lunch in the Mess Hall, with Tal Celes and Natasha Lang, where they all got to know each other a little better.

"Tim and I met fighting in the Federation-Cardassian War," Lang said over her chicken wrap. "Got married by Captain Les Buenamigo on the Discovery-E, at the height of the war. But after the Treaty, Tim didn't want to stop fighting. We never technically divorced, but I haven't spoken to him in almost two years. I don't even know why I'm going after the idiot..."

"I haven't seen Megan in over a year," Jenny said quietly. "Who knows if any of them are still alive."

Tal, who seemed so young and timid, surprised them both. "For eleven years, during the Cardassian Occupation, my mother and I didn't know if my father or brothers were alive. But they were."

Afterwards, the three women decided to check out the Engine Room. Impressive, yet relatively quiet, Engineering boasted two levels and a tall warp core, glowing an unappetizing shade of pink. Jenny wondered if that odd coloring meant something, since every other warp core she'd seen was blue. The engineers seemed to go about their business with ease, indicating no problems. Apparently, Voyager's warp core just happened to be puke colored.

"Wow," Tal breathed. "This might be the biggest engine room I've ever been in!"

Lang added, "My parents' freighter definitely wasn't this nice."

While Lang and Tal conversed, Jenny met eyes with Aro Eemz, the handsome Trill from the Dabo game. Eemz froze, looking equal parts exhilarated and petrified. Jenny could practically hear her sister scolding her for ambushing the poor sap like this at work.

Hi Jenny mouthed.

Hi he mouthed back. Straightening professionally, Eemz asked, "Is there anything I can help you ladies find?"

"Just getting more familiar with the ship," Jenny clasped her hands behind her back, turning to gaze at the warp core.

"One of the most efficient warp cores in Starfleet," Eemz boasted in a low voice. "It may not have many years out in the field yet, but the test runs we've done so far have all gone phenomenally."

"Just imagine what it's capable of learning," Jenny replied playfully.

She ignored, or maybe took some amusement in, the unimpressed stare from Lang and the confusion on poor, sheltered Tal. In her head she heard Megan groan, Classy, Jenny.

Lt. Vo'los suddenly threw her arms around Jenny and Eemz. "Whadda ya think?" She nodded her blue head at the warp core. "Ever see an Intrepid class warp core before? They're usually blue, but I found it looked too much like vomit. At least Bolian vomit. So I tweaked the tint…"

Jenny and Eemz exchanged amused looks as the Chief Engineer rambled on in true Bolian fashion. Vo'los only stopped when Captain Janeway announced that Voyager would be taking off in twenty minutes.

The Chief Engineer capped her blue hands. "Okay, everyone! You heard the woman! Compare warp cores later, get to your stations!"

Lang and Tal headed out. Jenny turned to leave, then stopped. "Lieutenant, the navigation system on Voyager is a bit different to what I'm used to. If you can spare any low-level engineers to, uh…"

"Lieutenant," Eemz quickly volunteered, "Things are pretty slow at my station."

The Bolian sighed. "I suppose you're not doing anything too important down here. Alright, go navigate our navigator, but you two keep your hands on your consoles!"

"Yes, Lieutenant." Jenny said.

Stellar Cartography was slow, allowing plenty of time for conversation. But Jenny's heart was only half into their flirtations. The truth was, she just couldn't stand to be alone as she scanned the Badlands for her sister's ship. Flirting was just one of her coping mechanisms.

So far, there had been no signs of the Maquis at all.

"I almost didn't make it through the Academy," Eemz confessed.

"Oh really," Jenny didn't look up from her console.

"I know you can reapply, but the Symbiosis Commission looks for only the best of the best. We haven't had anyone in my family get joined since my great great-grandmother..."

Jenny rolled her brown eyes.

"Come on, you said you were the competitive twin, I thought you'd understand."

Jenny bit her lip in defeat. "I guess if we were Trills, I'd be the one shooting for a symbiont."

She returned to her readings, making another desperate search for the Val Jean. She could tell Eemz was watching her.

"How'd she end up out there, if you don't mind my asking?"

Jenny shrugged. "We both knew we were going to leave Earth after finishing school. I like having a set challenge to climb through, so I joined Starfleet. Jenny's flightier. She went traveling the quadrant with some of her fellow artists, and eloped to a musician out on Nethuns Prime. I only met my brother-in-law in person once, but we had family subspace meetings all the time. Avi was…so great to have in the family." Jenny swallowed. "After the Cardassians vaporized him, Meg set us a recorded message, that she was off to the Maquis. And that's the last time I saw her face or heard her voice."

Eemz watched her sympathetically. "Jenny, I'm sorry."

Jenny shrugged. "It was her—"

The captain's voice came on the com: "All hands, brace for impact!"

Jenny barely had time to grip her console before the ship was seemingly flipped upside-down, and she lost her grip completely.

Alarms blared through billowing smoke.

Coughing, Jenny pulled herself back up to her console, her head throbbing. She could feel blood running down the side of her head. She stared at the readings on her screen, then double-checked that her station was working properly. The Badlands she'd been scanning for the last hour were gone, and the stars were completely unfamiliar.

"What the hell happened?"

Her question was met with only alarms, and the hiss of smoke.

"Eemz?" Jenny called frantically. "Aro?"

Within moments she found him crumbled against the opposite wall, covered in blood. His dark eyes were opened, and unmoving. She desperately checked his pulse, finding none. Slamming her combadge, Jenny yelled, "Delaney to Sickbay! …Sickbay!"

She tried Eemz's combadge, with no luck. The com link was clearly damaged. And he was clearly dead. Resuscitations were rare… but she had to get him revived, because it was her fault, she'd dragged Eemz down here. He couldn't die.

Jenny stumbled dizzily out into the hall, only to find thicker smoke, a small fire, and more bodies. Blood was streaming down her face. Steadying herself against the wall, Jenny began a weak crawl to Sickbay.

"Jenny!" Tal Celes emerged from the smoke. "Thank the Profits—oh, we need to get you to Sickbay!"

"I'm going there," Jenny said faintly.

"It's the other direction," Tal corrected. "I think."

As Tal helped Jenny along, Jenny told her numbly, "Eemz is dead."

"So's Sully," Tal said. "I passed him on Deck 3…"

Jenny's mind and stomach were both spinning. Sully and Eemz…

"It's my fault," Jenny said in a daze. "I made Eemz come up here…"

"Sickbay!" Tal cut her off frantically. "Let's just get to Sickbay!"

At some points, they could barely see for the smoke. When it cleared a bit, they only saw rubble, and more dead or wounded shipmates.

She suddenly realized that the Andorian plate she'd gotten for Megan was probably in a million pieces all over the floor of her quarters.

And that the chances she'd ever be able to hand Megan the colorful shards and apologize were extremely slim.

Tal stopped for a moment, and Jenny quickly saw why. It was another body, a Napean one. Zhul would never get to ask that Boilan friend of his about the funny incident with Tom Paris.

And Eemz, he was never going to get a symbiont. His legacy was just a name on a Starfleet casualty list. His parents had pushed him towards this, only for him to die on his first mission. All because Jenny couldn't handle being alone for a couple of hours.

And Sully, his disabled brother was now left with only their awful drug-addicted father.

And there was no cosmic reason, none at all, why Jenny should get to be reunited with her sister.

"Jenny," Tal said with frantic casualness, "You're in Stellar Cartography. Is it true, we're in the Delta Quadrant?"

Jenny sighed. "We better get to Sickbay soon Tal, this head injury must be serious. I just heard your voice saying we were in the Delta Quadrant."

"I did! I heard someone saying we'd been pulled into the Delta Quadrant."

"That's—" Jenny suddenly remembered the unfamiliar stars on her charts.

And before she could finish her thought or her sentence, everything vanished in a gold hum.

They were on a 20th Century farm, under a bright sun. A muscular blonde man glanced up from chopping wood. A shaggy goat stood nearby, tethered to a tree.

Jenny finished, "…ridiculous."

Tal whispered, "I think we'd both better get to Sickbay."

The man gave Jenny a lopsided grin, and casually set down his ax. "You look like ya just got bucked off the per'vurbiul ragin' bull, Miss Megan!"

Jenny was so used to being mistaken for her sister that her disoriented brain didn't even register it.

Captain Janeway's voice suddenly came from a ways away. "Don't believe your eyes Mr. Paris. We've only transported a hundred kilometers. We're inside the Array."

Jenny was relieved to learn she wasn't delirious, but that relief was sort-lived. Delerium from a non-fatal head injury was probably preferable to whatever Voyager had gotten itself into now.

An old woman dressed like a stereotypical farmer's wife approached the captain with a tray of corn.

"Oh, you poor things. You must be tired out. Come on and sit down and rest awhile. Have a cold drink, hmm?"

"No, thank you." The captain was taking this a lot better than Jenny was. "My name is Kathryn Janeway, captain of the Federation Starship Voyager—"

The woman cut her off. "Now, just make yourselves right at home. The neighbors should be here any minute—Oh! Why, here they are!"

More cartoonish farm caricatures emerged from the trees, including an old hillbilly with a banjo.

Tal stared as the holograms began to dance in a circle. "Is this what farms are like on Earth?"

Jenny snorted. "I grew up on a farm in Quebec. Anyone who thinks this in any way represents rural life has tribble-shit for brains."

The handsome blonde farmer strolled over to them. "You kiss your mother with that mouth, Miss Megan?"

Jenny was about to correct him, then stopped. "…What did you call me?"

"Megan. We were hanging out a few days ago, remember? Don't tell me you forgot old Tex!"

She exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Tal.

Her heart racing, Jenny slapped her combadge. "Delaney to Janeway!"

To her horror, her combadge didn't seem to be working. Either it had been damaged in the calamity that had reduced Voyager to rubble, or the power controlling this holo-farm was interfering.

Tal tried her own badge, with no luck. "Megan, that's your sister in the Maquis, isn't it?"

Jenny nodded. "They're here! The Maquis are here! …or they were…" She bolted in the direction she'd last seen Janeway and Kim. "Captain!"

"Jenny, wait!" Tal hurried after her.

Jenny found a cluster of officers, recognizing a few she'd met earlier. Panting she pleaded, "Where's the captain?" Failing to get a definitive answer, she urged, "What about Commander Cavit? Or Commander Stadi?"

A tall ops officer named Nozawa said hesitantly, "They're both dead."

Jenny looked in up shock.

He continued, "Killed on impact."

Someone added, "The chief engineer too, I heard."

Vo'los? Jenny glanced around, and realized she hadn't seen a single blue face on the farm.

"The captain! I need to talk to the captain! Anyone have a working combadge? The Maquis are here! Or they were!"

Several people tried their combadges, to no avail.

"They were working a few minutes ago," Joe Carrey said hitting his badge in frustration.

Jenny was desperate. "We have to find them!"

Nozawa assured her, "Alright we will, but take it easy…" his eyes traveled the wound on Jenny's head.

"Forget it, I'm fine!" Jenny hissed.

Someone laughed. "You lie like a mattress, Miss Megan!"

Jenny whirled around to see Tex smirking at them, his goat standing beside him like some kind of guard dog.

"Where's my sister?!" Jenny stormed over to him. "Where's Megan? Where are the Maquis?"

"We're not ready for you yet," he said, his Southern drawl suddenly gone.

"Are you ready for this?" Jenny slugged the shocked hologram in his handsome chin, stunning him.

Jenny was suddenly knocked over by a rabid animal. The goddam goat was attacking her, stomping its hooves in her face and butting its head against hers.

"Jenny!" Tal cried.

A young Vulcan engineer suddenly reached over, and administered the Vulcan neck-pinch to the goat. Jenny rolled away as the animal went down with a long bleat. She scrambled up and thanked the Vulcan, tearing off towards the barn.

Inside, a crowd of officers stood before a wide opening, that revealed some kind of laboratory. Naked humanoids lay on slabs, covered in thin sheets. Jenny could only assume that this was the crew of the Val Jean. She shoved past her shipmates and ran into the lab—or tried to.

She couldn't tell if it was because of her head injury, or the alien presence. But it was like trying to run in a dream. The rows of humanoids were somehow always getting closer, and yet never moving. Jenny searched desperately as she ran (in place?). She saw a dark Vulcan; a woman with a vaguely Klingon-looking forehead; a blue man… Was that dark-haired woman Megan? Or was that her over there?

Everything was gradually vanishing in a blinding white light.

Jenny's head felt heavy. She couldn't move. She couldn't even lift her eyelids. Her entire body felt numb and stiff. A sharp pain entered her abdomen, as something thin and cold drove into her. She heard a tiny sound begin to form in her throat, but stopped short of crying out. Someone else was already screaming, a young man whose voice sounded vaguely familiar.

The physical pain wasn't the worst of it. What had Jenny truly terrified was that she had been searching for something extremely important, something that she now might never find. And she couldn't for the life of her remember what it was.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

While working on the mystery of the Array and the desert planet below, the two crews helped each other with repairs, under heavy security. Neither Lt. Joe Carrey, Voyager's de-facto chief engineer at the moment, nor Seska, manning the Val Jean's engine room in B'Elanna Torres' absence, were keen on letting the other crew taking a close look at their systems.

The Delaney sisters were repairing Jenny's broken station in Stellar Cartography, under the eyes of two armed security guards. They worked on the gutted console, catching up and reminiscing about their childhoods. Their mother and step-father's corn farm; their half-brother Pierre, currently finishing high school; their father's recent marriage to an Andorian ice sculptor.

"How are Pluto and Nash?" Megan asked, referring to the family dogs.

Jenny looked at her regretfully. "Pluto was nineteen."

"Oh no…"

"He went last January. Nash still keeps looking for him. Mom and Christophe are taking about getting another dog to keep him company."

"Try an interplanetary mix breed. The kibbutz Avi and I lived on had a bunch of mutts that were a mix of Terran sheepdogs and Bajoran wool hounds. High energy, but good temperament. And so soft…" Megan shut her eyes, trying not to picture the charred remains of the dogs, the farm, or Avi.

"Megan, I never got to tell you how sorry I am, about Avi. And probably others you lost."

Megan tried to come up with a response, but the lump in her throat wouldn't let her. She finally beat it back down with, "Hand me the hypospanner."

When the manual work was finished, Megan shook her head. "I'm like 98% positive I can improve this system for you, expand the scanning range. We have all kinds of tricks in the Maquis."

"No systems access," Lt. Walter Baxter warned, from where he stood guard.

Megan sighed. "I guess princes don't need help from paupers."

Jenny remembered this code from their childhood and teen years, and couldn't believe Megan was suggesting it. As they exited into the hallway, Jenny decided to set her Maquis sister straight.

"…Listen, this isn't high school Meg. I'm a Starfleet officer now. I need to maintain a professional what the fuck is that?!"

The words had tumbled out of Jenny's mouth before she could stop herself.

Approaching them was Lt. Tuvok, accompanied by the most bizarre looking biped Jenny had ever seen. The alien looked like the unholy offspring of a flying monkey and a giraffe, wearing a hideous fur trench coat.

"That," Tuvok made a side glance at his companion, "Is Neelix."

"I—I'm sorry Lieutenant," Jenny stammered.

"Your expletive will remain off-record, Crewman."

"Th-thank you Sir…"

Megan's eyes traveled the alien dubiously. "Are your people the ones that brought us to this part of space?"

Neelix opened his mouth, but Tuvok quickly answered for him.

"Negative. Mr. Neelix is a trader in this region of space, who has agreed to assist us."

"It's a pleasure to meet you both!" Neelix surprised the twins with a massive double-hug. Breaking away, he squinted at them. "Your species comes in identical twins too? I suppose plenty do. Can you imagine Mr. Vulcan, if I had a twin of my own, exactly like me?"

"In a nightmare, perhaps."

Megan and Jenny watched Tuvok and Neelix leave, biting their lips in silent laughter.

Jenny finally managed, "…le-let's see your ship now…"

"What are the odds a musical nerd like you ends up on a ship called the Val Jean?"

They stood in the Maquis engine room. Megan's shipmates worked hard on repairs, accompanied by some Starfleet officers from Voyager. A few armed Maquis stood at intervals around the engine room, watching the Starfleets suspiciously. Of course, Chakotay had been careful to assign the more tempered soldiers to guard duty, like Lang and T'Vora. Suder was being kept busy in the lower decks.

"I'd have called it the Phantom myself," Megan admitted. "But yeah, getting to serve aboard a ship called the Val Jean is pretty neat."

Jenny eyed the artistic patterns Megan had scratched into her console. "If only Starfleet let us decorate our stations."

"So," Seska suddenly approached, folding her arms over her violet vest. "You've had a twin on the Starfleet ship, monitoring us this whole time."

Jenny, who hadn't met Seska yet, was taken aback. "It's nothing like that—I just transferred to Voyager to find my sister, just see if she was al—"

"Sure." The Bajoran's eyes moved fixed coldly between both twins. "Were you working with Tuvok, or competing with him for a promotion?"

"Seska!" Ayala barked from the gutted wall panel he was repairing, with the help of a chunky Maquis Bolian, and Ensign Vorik from Voyager. "That's enough!"

Seska stood seething.

Ayala marched over to her. "Back down, that's an order!"

Seska glared at him, then left with the air of a bratty child.

Megan shook her head. "I swear to God, she thinks everyone is a spy or saboteur of some kind. I mean even before we found out about Tuvok." Turning back to the navigation console, she asked her twin, "What do you think?"

"I mean…I'm flabbergasted by what you've been able to do with a bunch of scrap parts! But you could really use a boost from some Starfleet tech..."

"Would Starfleet really approve of that?" Megan asked dubiously.

Ayala cut in, "I know I can't, not at this time." He was more sympathetic than Seska, but stern. "Look, I'm sorry about Seska. But we really don't want outsiders poking their noses into our systems."

"I'm a crewman in Stellar Cartography, what do you think I'm gonna do, hack your mission files?" Jenny asked irritably.

Ayala's silent stare convinced her to drop the argument.

"Okay, I'm sorry!"

Ayala left to check on some other underlings. When it seemed no one was watching, Megan met eyes with Jenny and jerked her head towards a doorway. Jenny quietly followed her down a tight hallway, to a row of bunks, similar to the ones in the lower decks of many Federation ships. Not surprisingly, these bunks looked a lot more run down.

"You've been sleeping here?" Jenny whispered.

"I've slept on grass, floors and park benches. Bohemian artist, remember?"

Megan keyed opened her bunk. On the wall over the bed was a small watercolor painting of a familiar dark-haired man, at a layered keyboard—Avi Silverman, her late husband. Megan pulled aside a colorful hand-knit blanket, and retrieved a small harp made from the handlebars of some old vehicle.

"You still make your own instruments!" Jenny grinned.

"Without a holodeck, we have to do recreation the old-fashioned way. So we make music, we arm-wrestle, play drinking games, and watch cheap crappy holovids on tiny screens, between the chaos and strife. It's just like high school."

"Lemme get a picture." Jenny activated the photography program on her PADD.

"Are you allowed to do that for personal use?"

"As long as I don't get caught."

Jenny snapped a couple photos of Megan with the harp, and got some closeups of the painting as well. "Don't you miss being an artist and…everything? Don't you miss just living?"

Megan grimaced, setting down her harp. "All the time. I just couldn't stand to let the Cardassians win. Let Avi die for nothing. To give in to their intimidation, it's wrong. Not just for us, for the whole galaxy. Because they won't stop." She admitted, "And…I figured no one back home would want to be associated with me anymore anyway."

"You have no idea how wrong you are." Jenny said.

Megan leaned against the metal wall, and folded her arms. "I feel so guilty."

"Hey, you gave me part of your brain. At great personal risk. That's pretty big for anyone, but you could've lost your creativity and independence if something went wrong—"

"But now our family didn't just lose me, they've lost us both. They'll never know what happened to us."

After a long silence, Jenny said, "What the hell."

Megan looked up curiously.

"Let's fix each other's stations. What do we have to lose?"

Megan seemed to turn it over in her mind. "Are you sure? You said you could get court-martialed…"

"Only if our efforts actually work, and help get our ships home. And if we get caught." Jenny began to remove her Starfleet jacket. "Come on, I'm sick of following rules. Let's play Switcheroo, like old times. Besides, I wanna wear that cool vest."

Megan warned, "I haven't washed it in a while…"

The entire senior staff was now off Voyager. They'd gone down to the desert planet, along with Chakotay and that Neelix thing, in search of Torres and Kim. Repairs had come a long way, and most of the ship looked as good as new. Both crews had been ordered back to their respective ships. Megan hoped Jenny was still as good at acting and improvising as she'd been in their teen years.

"Delaney, I like your hair!" an officer called to Megan in the hallway.

"Thanks!" Megan had anticipated that someone might notice her hair was currently shorter than Jenny's. "I had a little accident and got some of it singed, figured it was time for a haircut anyway."

"It looks good."

Megan found her sister's station easily enough, from the maps displayed in the halls. Stellar Cartography was empty. With no guard standing over her shoulder now, Megan was free to improvise. These Starfleet systems were really not much different than any other ones Megan had used. Smoother and more user-friendly, if anything.

She had the scanning range fixed and improved in less than an hour.

Timidly, Megan pressed the combadge on her chest. "Stellar Cartography to Engineering."

A male voice with an Irish accent replied, "Go ahead."

"I…believe I've finished repairing my—my console. In Stellar Cartography."

"Noted. I'll give it a check as soon as I can. It may be a while, so feel free to take a break."

"Thanks." she added quickly, "Sir."

The engineer was probably too preoccupied with all that was going on to care about a shy crewman's verbal blunders. With a cautious glance around the empty room, Megan accessed the secret line she'd installed to her own station on the Val Jean.

DONE UP HERE. YOU?

Jenny's reply came within moments:

STILL WORKING. MY QUARTERS ARE YOUR QUARTERS. JUST DON'T GET CAUGHT.

She gave Megan her room number and passcode, and they signed off.

Jenny's quarters weren't much bigger than their respective bedrooms back home, but compared to the Maquis bunks it felt enormous. Jenny hadn't unpacked much yet, and her quarters still showed the damage Voyager had taken. Megan decided that after all Jenny had sacrificed to come after her, the least she could do was tidy up a bit for her. She moved Jenny's upturned luggage into her bedroom. One bag felt and sounded like it contained a pile of broken glass—probably the present Jenny had mentioned at one point while they were working on repairs. A suitcase had burst opened, leaving clothes and other items strewn around the floor. As Megan gathered them up, she recognized a familiar ping-pong paddle she'd painted flowers on for Jenny, for their 14th birthday. Miraculously, it hadn't broken.

A few isolinear chips were also scattered, one labeled "Music." Megan curiously put the chip into the computer panel by the replicator, and browsed the files. Andoria, Yesteryear, Fizzbin…all of the bands they'd grown up listening to in high school. Jenny didn't share Megan's love for musicals, but their taste in modern 24th Century artists had usually overlapped. Dabo Dynasty, Flaming Tribbles, Third Contact, Latinum Rain…and…there is was: Hamilton Lightship, Megan and Avi's old group. Jenny had saved every single album they'd ever produced. Megan herself hadn't listened to half of these songs in months, having lost several copies in various Maquis battles.

Megan cleaned the quarters while listening to her own lute strumming, and Avi's keyboard; the Bajoran wind instruments of their friends, Tzonar and Aneen; and Zng, their tiny Andorian drummer. She saw Avi shaking his dark hair, swaying passionately at his keyboard. And Zng, going at the massive drums surrounding her like a tiny aqua hurricane, her white braids and antenna flying.

Megan took advantage of the luxurious washroom, and replicated the fresh uniform, then flopped onto the gray sofa. The song playing now was one she'd helped Zng write. Zng was on another Maquis ship now, somewhere. Tzonar was dead; Aneen had taken their kids and fled to a safer part of space. Megan closed her eyes and listened to the calming, psychedelic rock music, basking in memories.

"Carrey to Delaney."

Startled, Megan hit the combadge. "Delaney here."

"You've done an incredible job on these sensors! I'll be sure to mention it to the captain when she's back."

"Thank you, Sir."

Megan was taken back to their school days. History and Literacy teachers praising "Jenny" for her brilliant essays, while Jenny got Megan flying colors on the math tests she'd have failed. Megan decided to explore this fancy new ship, and see if she couldn't win Jenny some more favor with her superiors. Reconnaissance for the Maquis was a low priority, since any new features Voyager sported would likely be obsolete by the time they got back to the Alpha Quadrant.

Voyager's large engine room was still a mess. Megan ducked past a group of officers carrying off part of a massive railing. She wondered if the warp core's odd pinkish tint was damage-related as well. A man with red curly hair looked up from a nearby station, and when he spoke, she recognized Carrey's voice from the comm.

"Delaney, Stellar Cartography's in better shape than when we started! How'd you do that?"

"I just…improvised a little." Megan described the process in the most professional, Starfleet-sounding way she could muster.

Carrey had the smile of a person who'd received a sudden blast of hope after a dismal week. "That's some ingenuity for your first mission, Crewman!"

"Thanks, Sir." Megan rolled up the sleeves of her (well, Jenny's) uniform. "What can I help with now?"

Carrey chucked. "You're really gun-ho!"

"Grew up on a farm," Megan shrugged.

She continued to impress Carrey and other officers with her speed and ease moving the rubble and repairing damage. In the Maquis, they were constantly patching up the ship as they went. But anytime someone here asked, she just brought up her childhood helping out on the corn farm in Quebec. Megan got so caught up in the work that she almost forgot it wasn't hers.

Captain Janeway's voice suddenly broke all conversations: "Red Alert!"

Oh shit!

The Val Jean was like an old warehouse. Jenny took a couple of breaks between improving Megan's station to explore the old freighter, avoiding conversation as much as possible. She kept her long dark hair tied up in a bun, hoping no one would notice that "Megan's" hair had grown significantly in the last hour.

The lower portion of the ship was a forest of massive industrial tubes cutting in all directions. Jenny felt like a little kid again, climbing around the pipes in the dark. She had a seat on one of the thicker cylinders, and just sat listening to the buzzing hum of the old freighter's engines for a few minutes. Megan probably came here a lot for alone time, to paint and play music. Feeling daring, she climbed onto a thinner, higher pipe, and began practicing her gymnastics. She giggled out loud, swinging from the pipe like monkey-bars.

A quiet voice suddenly echoed, "Don't fall."

She gasped and nearly lost her grip. Below was a tiny gray-haired man she'd completely overlooked, working silently on some repair work. His massive black eyes didn't leave his project.

"I'm behaving myself. I'm not gonna take the fall for you if you split your brains all over the piping de Lancie."

"Delaney," she corrected him instinctively.

Neither his eyes, posture or voice changed. "Whatever."

Jenny wasn't one to judge people for being socially awkward, but this guy was giving her serial killer vibes. She quickly apologized, said goodbye, and got out of there as fast as she could. She had work to do anyway. Jenny wasn't just upgrading Megan's console to impress her; she wanted to give the Val Jean the best possible chance of escaping Voyager, if and when the two ships found a way back to the Alpha Quadrant. Jenny still wasn't certain how she felt about the Maquis, but she didn't want Megan being sent to prison.

Back at the navigation station in the engine room, Jenny fought to keep from looking at anyone, or at the ship. But she could feel Seska stealing glances at her. Jenny did her best to ignore the Bajoran. After an hour or so, Jenny had Megan's station running at as peak condition as a hunk of scrap like it probably could. She reached into the pocket of Megan's faded calico pants, where she'd smuggled a chip containing a copy of the program from her own station on Voyager.

"What've you got there, Deaney?"

Jenny glanced up to see Seska looking at her, from her the warp core station.

An idea struck Jenny. Forcing a small smile, she beckoned Seska closer. The Bajoran's fierce eyebrows furrowed, and she complied. Jenny showed Seska the small rectangular chip.

"I'm sure my sister won't mind me borrowing her navigation program, I just forgot to ask her. Wanna help me install it?"

Seska's face morphed from suspicion to a Grinch-like delight. "I misjudged you, Delaney!"

The Bajoran was lightyears ahead of Jenny in engineering skills, and Jenny could only pretend to follow what Seska was saying as she did most of the work installing the new program. The upgrade was maybe 80% finished when Seska suddenly looked up and exclaimed, "B'Elanna!"

A short woman with a ridged forehead and sweet-ass boots had suddenly appeared in the doorway. Jenny recognized her from the photos all Voyager officers had been provided of B'Elanna Torres and Harry Kim, during their search. Apparently, they'd been rescued.

"Battle stations!" B'Elanna bellowed. "We have two ships of those mushroom-headed p'tachs headed this way!"

Jenny blurted out a loud, creative expletive.

"You can say that again!" Seska agreed, hurrying back to her battle station.

Jenny's finger hovered over the console. Suddenly a message came in from Megan over the secret com link.

THIS WAS A FUCKING STUIPD IDEA!

Jenny typed back: I KNOW. WHERE'S YOUR BATTLE STATON?

Megan's reply came:

SAME STATION

SCAN FOR ENEMIES AND OBSTACLES

ALERT BRIDGE IF YOU SEE ANY

DON'T YOU DARE GET HURT!

Megan's heart was racing. After the trauma in Sickbay, she couldn't lose Jenny now. She hoped Stellar Cartography wasn't too crucial of a battle station for Voyager, because she was not going to take her eyes off of this com link.

Chapter Text

Fortunately, Jenny had the hang of the Va Jean's simplistic navigational system by now. But she still needed constant instructions from Megan to talk her through activating the comm link to the Bridge, and how to alert Chakotay and Torres of an incoming threat. Jenny had trained for battles at the Academy, and her various sports kept her multitasking skills sharp. But it was a frantic job, to keep tabs on the Kazon vessels, Voyager, and the Array, and keep scans opened for flying debris or stray asteroids.

Jenny had never been on such a bumpy ride in her adult life. These Maquis raiders didn't have the structural reinforcements that Starfleet code required. She felt her long hair tumbling out its bun, and feared being found out. But no one seemed to notice—understandably.

Another hard blast sent Jenny tumbling backwards. Someone behind her stopped her with hands on her back, and pushed her forward, back into her console. Steadying herself, she looked to see a tall Bolian woman behind her.

"Thanks!"

"Any time!" the Bolian replied cheerfully.

As they both turned back to their work, Jenny remembered Zhul, and wondered if that wasn't the Bolian friend he'd died trying to find.

B'Elanna Torres burst back into engineering. "Everyone, prepare to evacuate to Voyager!"

"That Federation ship?" Seska spun from her station at the warp core to stare at Torres.

"No," the half-Klingon snapped, "The Ferengi one. Yes the Federation ship!"

Seska began, "What the hell fo—?"

"Because Chakotay said so! Let's move!"

The engineers spread to clear a path for Torres, as she hurried over to a console on the wall to initiate the mass transport.

Jenny realized what was probably about to happen, and recalled Megan's belongings back in her bunk. There probably wasn't time to fetch anything. Hell, she didn't even know where Megan's bunk was. Her thoughts were cut short by the bule shimmer of the transporter.

They rematerialized in a large dark room lined with crates.

Seska shot Torres a look. "Did Chakotay tell you to beam us into a cargo bay?"

"I just took us to the biggest empty space I could find," Torres panted.

The doors of the cargo bay opened, to reveal a cluster of gold-uniformed security guards, brandishing phasers. Jenny recognized Lt. Walter Baxter.

"Maquis crew," a Baxter said sternly, "You're to remain in this area, until further notice—"

"Let us help you!" Torres interrupted. "Our captain's over there risking his life for you, he's going to sacrifice our ship to help yours!"

Baxter hit his combadge, his eyes locked on Torres. "Baxter to Bridge: the Maquis request to help us against the Kazon."

"It's me, Starfleet!" Torres shouted at Baxter's badge (and, inadvertently, right in poor Baxter's face). "It's B'Elanna Torres!"

Harry Kim's voice came from Baxter's badge. "Let Torres up here, I trust her."

"What about the others?" Baxter asked.

There was a quick discussion on the other end. Then the young Ops. officer relayed, "If any of them wanna help, they're welcome."

"I do." Jenny stepped forward. Turning back to the others she added, "This is what you became Maquis for, isn't it? To help people?" Realizing her blunder, Jenny added, "It's what I joined the Maquis for!"

The Bolian who'd helped stopped Jenny's fall during the battle joined them. "I had a friend on this ship." She met Jenny's eyes. "I only found out a few hours ago, in the Sickbay here. I owe it to him to help his friends."

So it was Golwat, and someone had told her about Zhul, probably Lang.

B'Elanna clapped her hands. "Let's get moving!"

The Maquis began to migrate out of the cargo bay, Jenny running to the front.

Megan's blood was firing. Her console had alerted her that all of the Maquis were beaming aboard, which was a godsend; but there was still the chance that Jenny had been killed just moments before the beam-off.

And then, the Val Jean crashed into the Kazon ship.

Megan had assumed they were abandoning ship due to a warp core breach, but now realized Chakotay had kamikazed their old freighter. Had he been beamed out too?

She activated the small viewscreen on her console. The Val Jean was gone, and the Kazon ship was drifting away in flames.

"All that work for noting."

Megan whirled around to find Jenny wearing her clothes, covered in grime. Megan seized her sister in a tight embrace, and said fiercely, "We are never playing Switcheroo again!"

"No way in Hell!" Jenny agreed.

Breaking apart, Jenny gazed at the destruction on the screen. "Your captain is bad-ass."

The ship-wide anger over Janeway's decision to destroy the Array was softened by the fact that the thing had already killed nearly half of both crews on the first trip, when it was presumably working properly. The mass funeral service in Voyager's Mess Hall served as a reminder of this. After the service, a quiet crowd of Starfleet officers, and a few brown-clad Maquis, remained among the coffins in quiet morning.

Each casket was labeled with the deceased's name and rank. The coffins contained Starfleet bodies only; the Maquis who'd died on arrival to the Delta Quadrant had been inadvertently been cremated, when the Val Jean was destroyed. A ways away, Golwat stood over Zhul's casket, dipping her blue head silently. The Langs were also present, walking together quietly for once.

"I wish you could've met Th'lor," Megan said to Jenny softly. "We called him the Grinch, or Oscar, because he was green and he was aways pissed off, in the best of ways. He was so great..."

"Sounds like he'd get along with that EMH program," Jenny said. "I wish you could've met Stadi. She was so cool. And Lt. Vo'los…"

Jenny imagined the boisterous Bolian or the sassy Betazoid surviving, being a part of this adventure, meeting the Maquis. The injustice of their senseless deaths was maddening. Her guilt surged as they came to Aro Eemz's coffin. Would his family ever find out it was her fault he'd died before even getting into the running for a symbiont?

Over at Stadi's coffin, Jenny heard Tom Paris say quietly to Harry Kim, "It should've been me."

In all that had been happening, Jenny had forgotten about Tom almost completely.

"Thank you, Paris."

Paris, startled, looked in a couple directions before realizing the speaker was Jenny. He stared at her, clearly baffled.

"For getting me back to my sister." She smiled at Harry. "And bringing us Ensign Kim back."

Harry stammered, "It was nothing."

"She's talking to me," Tom muttered from the corner of his mouth. "Lie down before you hurt yourself."

Megan finally jumped in. "You've redeemed yourself in my eyes, Tom."

"Janeway to Delaney."

Jenny tapped her combadge. "Delaney here, captain."

"I'd like you and your sister to meet me in my Ready Room, as soon as it's convenient for you."

Megan and Jenny exchanged a glance. They'd been caught.

Jenny replied numbly, "On our way."

Jenny and Megan entered the Ready Room expecting a stern reprimand.

Instead, the captain and Chakotay were in the sitting area, apparently enjoying coffee. Chakotay's Maquis uniform looked out of place in the professional Starfleet sitting room. But he and Janeway were laughing like old work colleagues. They both rose when the twins entered.

"Delaney," Janeway caught herself. "Jennifer Delaney. I understand that you showed some ingenuity in fixing up Stellar Cartography while we were down on Ocampa. And Mr. Carrey says you were very gun-ho helping out with repairs in Engineering. You demonstrated an impressive amount of energy and creativity for such a new recruit."

Jenny stared blankly. Then she remembered her and Megan's game of "Switcheroo." Megan was averting her gaze.

The captain turned to the other sister. "And Megan. Lt. Baxter tells me you went above and beyond in diplomacy, when you and the other Maquis beamed aboard. You didn't hesitate to cooperate with him, and convinced the rest of your crew to do likewise. We're going to need people like you on Voyager."

Megan's brown eyes found Jenny's. Both remained stiff, their lips tightly sealed.

"You're going to be two of the first people to hear this," Janeway said. "Under the circumstances, Commander Chakotay and I have decided it would make the most sense to integrate his crew into Voyager's. Chakotay will serve as my first officer. And you have both, in my opinion, earned a promotion."

"There's going to be an official announcement this evening," Chakotay said. "But if you two want to keep up your diplomacy skills, this crew could really use it."

The sisters both watched, dumbfounded, as Janeway retrieved two small boxes from her desk. Jenny was frozen as the captain attached the new pip to her collar. "Ensign Delaney…." She handed the other box to a stunned Megan. "…and Ensign Delaney. You can put this on after you've received your new uniform." Her blue eyes bounced between the two sisters. "Welcome aboard, Ensigns."

"We're alone, in an uncharted part of the galaxy. We've already made some friends here... and some enemies. We have no idea of the dangers we're going to face. But one thing is clear: both crews are going to have to work together if we're to survive."

Megan and Jenny stood next to each other in a corridor near the bridge. The entire new crew stood at attention, all in clean Starfleet attire. In addition to their different hairstyles, the twins could now be distinguished now from their different uniforms—Jenny's green, and Megan's gold.

"That's why Commander Chakotay and I have agreed that this should be one crew –a Starfleet crew. And as the only Starfleet vessel assigned to the Delta Quadrant, we'll continue to follow our directive: to seek out new worlds and explore space. But our primary goal is clear. Even at maximum speeds, it would take seventy-five years to reach the Federation."

Megan reached over and grabbed her twin's hand. Jenny squeezed back. The other officers around them stayed at attention. But seeing their subtle reactions, Jenny realized how cruel it must be, for them to see her with her sister. Most of them would probably never see any of their family members again.

"But I'm not willing to settle for that. There's another entity like the Caretaker out there somewhere who has the ability to get us there a lot faster. We'll be looking for her. And we'll be looking for wormholes, spatial rifts, or new technologies to help us. Somewhere, along this journey, we'll find a way back."

Janeway allowed her next order to be played over the com. "Set a course Mr. Paris…for home."

With the captain's finishing speech, the crew dispersed.

Jenny and Megan would be sharing quarters; most of the crew had their own, but plenty were rooming up, for various reasons. On the wall above the sofa now hung a copy of Megan's painting of Avi—the original was gone, but the photo Jenny had taken was as sharp as a printout. It sat in an artistic mosaic frame, made from the fragments of the broken Andorian plate. On the floor near the sofa was the new harp Megan was building, out of scrap salvaged from the remains of the Array.

"Megan," Jenny took a seat on the sofa, "Do you think we'll actually get back home?"

"I don't know…." Megan flopped down next to her sister. "But what can we do? We're alive. We have each other. I just wish we could tell everyone back home that we're okay."

"What about the war?" Jenny looked at her sister. "You were devoted to that cause, Megan."

"Devoted to it," Megan confirmed. "Prepared to die for it. Suppose in a way I have died for it. I'll just have to find a new cause."

Ready to move on, Jenny offered, "Is Philly cheese steak pizza a noble cause? The replicator won't be as good as Mom's, but it's better than nothing."

Megan grinned. "Vive la cheesesteak!"