Part VIII.

As the little gremlin of an idea suddenly took hold of her, the Captain headed to the Bridge looking like a canary-stuffed cat.

"No, no. Stay seated Ensign. You still have the Bridge. How go the scans for our missing foursome?"

"Nothing new, Captain. We've just started the thirteenth sensor sweep, in fact," replied Castillo.

"That may change sooner than we think."

"Ma'am?"

"The Doctor believes there's a species with Borg-resistant technology on this planet. Why not test that theory? Mr. Castillo, I'll be in the Science Lab."

He nodded as she headed for the turbolift. Captain Janeway knew her idea was hardly a panacea for the current dilemmas which plagued them... but it may serve as a divining rod. It was a good idea.

As the door closed behind B'Elanna Torres, the Doctor's smile disappeared as he sighed with resignation. Klingons.

On to the task at hand. He turned and walked back toward the biobeds. "Well," he said a touch perky, "And how is our other patient doing?" He stopped next to Kes and looked down at Tom.

Kes smiled at the Doctor's apparent mood.

"Tom's doing fine, Doctor," she responded. "His breathing is slowly improving, although he is still wheezing a little. However, I think he'll be talking again before much longer."

Tuvok and Horton breathed as one as the lesson continued.

"With each exhalation," Tuvok continued, "You should feel more and more of your tension slip away, as if it were particles of dust floating in space and drifting away from you. Soon, you are floating in a void, unhindered by earthly emotional constraints, completely free. You are peaceful as you gaze upon the single star that appears above you in the darkness. Float towards it."

Tuvok broke off and opened his eyes, his Vulcan hearing catching the buzzing sound of evenly moderated breaths. He listened a moment to ascertain the breathing pattern and confirm what he knew.

Horton was snoring.

One eyebrow arched in the most common outward show of emotion for a Vulcan. Exasperation.

With no further thought about it, Tuvok returned to his meditations.

Eventually arriving at the Science Lab, Captain Janeway spotted Ensign Wildman busy at a console. She approached.

"Samantha. You're certainly working late."

"Yes, Captain. Naomi was sleeping so well, I figured I would slip away and finish up some overdue reports."

"I admire your ability to balance both jobs... and since you're here, I may just take advantage of your presence."

"Of course, Captain. Is there something I can help you with?"

The Captain explained her idea in depth to the Science officer. Tactical data from the recent Borg encounter was then studied and discussed, and the Computer was sought intensively. Samantha pulled out a PADD and pointed out more pros and cons to the Captain. They came to a conclusion - it was definitely worth trying.

"Captain, we can mask our transporter signal if it's at a negative phase variance from the one indicated when Neelix was detected."

"I agree. Assuming of course that the 3.39 phase variance is also related to the species defenses from the Borg. I'm betting on the Doctor being right about created radiation. Otherwise I'd never have dreamed this up."

After nearly twenty minutes of the twosome making adjustments on several consoles, the green light was announced.

"The probe is ready, Captain. Once we beam this into orbit, it will absolutely resemble a Borg probe on most sensor technology."

"Let's hope the data retrieved can help the Doctor do more for Seven of Nine. If the aliens detect an unaffected Borg object in orbit, they may focus a more intense form of their radiation on it - to try to destroy it more quickly."

"And that increase would definitely help isolate the frequency," Ensign Wildman enthused.

"Exactly. As long as they don't discover it's ours, everything should prove successful. Transport the probe now."

The probe was beamed into orbit, and like in all experiments, the tedious waiting process began. The telemetry recorded was encrypted to protect from accidental tampering. Would any useful results be gleaned? Would it take hours or days to get anything? Time would hopefully tell.

Captain Janeway and Ensign Wildman returned to respective locations in the mean time.

"He should be talking right now," insisted the hologram with utmost confidence following a quick tricorder sweep. "Lieutenant?"

Silence.

The Doctor tentatively placed a hand on Tom's forearm and nudged it. "Mister Paris? We're not taking residents here just yet."

With a slightly irritated expression, Tom turned his face towards the Doctor, eyes still closed.

Tom groaned and turned his face towards the familiar voice.

"What? Time to get up?" he asked, opened his eyes and grinned.

"Looks like you saved your finest pilot again," Tom remarked, got up, and scanned the room.

Then he froze in motion.

"Where's B´Elanna? Is she all right? What happened?" he cried and grabbed Doc's left wrist.

Tom's face was white again. What if... ? He swallowed.

"Calm down, Lieutenant!" The Doctor looked peeved while he consciously worked to prevent the tricorder from leaving his grip. "B'Elanna is fine. In fact, she's probably in Engineering by n- Where are you going?!"

The doors closed, leaving the Doctor and Kes to an empty Sickbay. The hologram sighed.

Having left the Science Lab, Captain Janeway studied a PADD as she walked through a corridor. She was suddenly sidetracked though, as the lights began to flicker all over the ship.

"Janeway to Castillo. Report."

=/\= If you're referring to the lights flickering, Lieutenant Carey said he was repairing something in the Environmental systems. Apparently under Seven of Nine's instructions. =/\=

"Oh. Okay then.. Janeway out."

As she ended the communication, her curiosity took over, and she headed to Environmental Control. Arriving, she saw a frustrated Carey making adjustments on the main console.

"Borg enhancements here, too?"

"Good... morning, Captain. Yes, the Borg apparently thought enough to put autonomous trans-isotope Halogen pumps into the primary and backup ionizer array. These are Seven's removal instructions, or I'd really be stuck." Carey said, showing the PADD to the Captain.

"Why on earth would we need trans-isotope Halogen pumps?"

"Seven said that the Argon in our air, when changed into another Halogen - Neon - is highly irritating to species 8472 lungs. I guess the Borg feared they may've boarded Voyager."

"And the pumps were capable of that. Absolutely ingenious... one cannot help but admire some of that hive technology. Need a hand removing them, Mr. Carey?"

"Yes ma'am. I welcome it."

As they began, Carey explained that Seven was supervising Vorik and others in Engineering. Carey then handed the Captain an odd looking tool, and they followed the ex-drones removal instructions to the letter.

Nicoletti was waiting inside the doors to Engineering, with a PADD in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. And a concerned look on her face. "You look like hell, Chief," she said.

"Thanks," said B'Elanna. She took the coffee and the PADD. "Where's Carey?"

"He took Seven of Nine to Environmental Control. They're removing the halogen pumps from the ionizer arrays."

B'Elanna nodded. "All right. Report," she said, walking aft.

Nicoletti fell in beside her. "Repairs are proceeding," she said. "Joe made propulsion our first priority."

"Good."

"Seven of Nine showed us how to remove the Borg accumulators from the plasma intakes and relays." Nicoletti showed B'Elanna to the portside access panels, where the Engineering crew was working on the intake system. "It takes a bit of work, and some special tools, but we haven't had any problems yet."

She reached down and picked a piece of Borg technology up from the deck. "Vorik and I dug this out of intake manifold eleven, under her supervision."

B'Elanna grimaced. "Va," she said, looking at the alien...thing. It repulsed her. "Can it be recycled?"

"I...don't know," said Nicoletti. "It might assimilate the replicator if we try. We should probably ask Seven of Nine."

B'Elanna nodded and swallowed coffee. "Go on."

Nicoletti put the Borg device pack on the floor. Carefully. "I'm supervising the work on the intake manifolds, here. Vorik is supervising the work on the relays. If all goes well, we should be done in a couple of hours. Then we can re-initialize the anti-matter reaction."

"Good. Anything else?"

Nicoletti considered. "Well, most of the battle damage has been repaired. Once we get rid of the Borg modifications, we should be just about ready to fly. Except..."

"Except for the warp nacelles," said B'Elanna. "Any word from Commander Chakotay's away team?"

Nicoletti shook her head. "No. None that I'm aware of."

B'Elanna finished her coffee, and stared into space for a moment. "All right, she said finally, handing her coffee cup back to Nicoletti. "I want all this Borg veQ out of Engineering. Have someone stow it in Cargo Bay Two until we figure out what to do with it."

"Yes, ma'am."

B'Elanna studied her PADD while Nicoletti got back to work. Propulsion was taken care of. Voyager wouldn't explode, or lose power during takeoff. Carey was fixing life support, so they wouldn't suffocate. What was next?

Control systems, she thought. Those were going to be a problem.

The lights flickered.

Seven of Nine glanced around the turbolift car. Her suspicions had been correct. Lieutenant Carey had not completely mastered the dissimilation procedure. She had told him so, but he had refused to listen. Instead, he had ordered her back to Engineering. His attitude was incomprehensible.

She winced, closed her eyes, and put her hand to her head. The pain had returned. It was more intense than before.

I must resist, she thought. Pain is irrelevant. The survival of the Collective is paramount.

Her new Collective could not survive without her assistance. And she had very little assistance left to give.

I must resist.

The turbolift slowed to a halt. Seven of Nine composed herself.

Pain is irrelevant.

The doors opened, and she stepped out into Engineering.

...The doors closed, leaving the Doctor and Kes to an empty Sickbay. The hologram sighed....

Kes looked at the Doctor and a smile spread across her face. The concern displayed by Tom and B'Elanna, each for the other, had reinforced Kes' suspicions. There was definitely more going on there than previously!

"Well Doctor, it seems that Tom's recovery process has just accelerated a little, don't you think?"

The Doctor, oblivious to the nonverbalized implications of what had just transpired, thought Kes' amusement to be an extraordinary reaction. Perplexed, he looked at her, his forehead wrinkled.

Although the Doctor's perplexity was amusing, Kes decided to explain.

"I think that there may be something more than professional comradeship developing between Tom and B'Elanna. They were overly concerned for each other and there was a certain intensity in their reactions that wasn't there before..." she tailed off, thoughtfully, wondering when this had happened.

Commander Chakotay appeared to be thinking. Finally, he said, "I'm sorry, too."

There was another pause. Lintorhan suddenly became afraid. Would he refuse to answer any more? But in the end, he continued. "I'll answer your questions, now," he said.

"Very well," said Lintorhan, hiding her relief. They needed this information, and the sooner the better. "Who are your people," she asked, "where are you from? We have not met beings like you before."

"No," said Chakotay. "We are not from around here. We are from another part of the galaxy, what we call the Alpha Quadrant, about 65,000 light years from your world. We were brought to this part of space against our will by a powerful alien called the Caretaker. That was about three years ago. We've been trying to get home ever since."

"I am Human," he continued. "My colleague, Lieutenant Tuvok, is Vulcan. Humans and Vulcans are part of an interstellar community called the Federation, a free association of many different worlds and peoples. Our vessel is called 'Voyager,' and we're part of an organization called Starfleet. Starfleet defends the Federation, but it has many other peaceful duties, like exploration, scientific research, life-saving...." Chakotay trailed off. We're part of an organization called Starfleet, he thought. Well, well.

Lintorhan continued. "We have picked up a Borg life sign aboard your vessel - what is your affiliation with the Borg?"

Damn, thought Chakotay. "The Borg and the Federation are enemies," he said firmly. "The Borg attacked the Federation seven years ago, and we've been in conflict ever since. In fact, Voyager was damaged in a battle with a Borg cube in this star system, and we landed here to make repairs. We were searching for raw materials in the cave when you captured us."

"The Borg life sign you mentioned...You know that the Borg reproduce by assimilating members of other species?"

The aliens' apparent spokesperson gestured curtly to the affirmative - or so he thought.

Chakotay continued. "The person you detected was originally Human. The Borg assimilated her about twenty years ago. We've broken her link with the Collective, and removed most of her cybernetics. My Captain believes that she can be rehabilitated - that we can help her become Human again. She assisted us in our most recent battle with the Borg, right before we landed on your world. If you come with me to my ship, you can meet her, if you like."

"Once a Borg, always a Borg," muttered one of the other aliens, who then spoke out harshly. "We have never encountered a case of a Borg being separated from the hive. How was this accomplished? What guarantee do we have that it will not attempt to bring more Borg to this location?"

Two of the other aliens muttered their agreement with this line of questioning.

Chakotay shook his head. "I understand your concern. But she's no threat to you. If she wanted to return to the Collective, she could have helped the Borg assimilate us. Instead, she helped us fight them. She may not be fully human - yet. But she's no longer Borg.

"And she's not the first person to escape the Collective. Seven years ago, when the Borg attacked Earth, they captured and assimilated a Starfleet officer. His name was Captain Jean-Luc Picard. He commanded the starship Enterprise. His shipmates recaptured him, and severed his link with the Collective. Just a few months ago, we encountered an entire community of people who'd escaped from the Borg. Their cube had been severely damaged by an electro-kinetic storm. It broke their link with the Collective, and restored them to individuality. One of them was Human, like me. Her name was Riley."

Two of the aliens made obviously disparaging noises.

"I know you may find this hard to believe," said Chakotay. "But if you want to check my story, you only have to contact my ship. Send an ambassador to meet our Captain: her name is Kathryn Janeway. She'll confirm everything I've said, about the Federation and Starfleet, and Picard and Riley. Talk to Seven of Nine - she's the woman we rescued from the Borg. Ask our Doctor how he severed her link with the Collective and removed her Borg implants. Once you see my ship, and talk to my people, you'll know I'm telling the truth."

Lintorhan spoke again. "If we were to release you," she asked, "what would you do?"

"Well, said Chakotay, "that depends on you. Like I said before, we are a peaceful people, and we mean you no harm. We didn't even know you were here. If you want us to leave your world, then we'll leave. Though I hope you'll let us complete our repairs first. And I'm sure my Captain would like to meet you, to establish diplomatic relations between your world and the Federation. We'd also like to trade, if you are interested."

"Our scans show that your vessel is currently un-spaceworthy," said Lintorhan. "Your leaving here is not the issue - it is your continued survival."

For a moment, Chakotay simply stared at the alien. Then, finally, he spoke. "You're right," he said. "This is a question of survival. But not for us. For you.

"Our presence here puts your species in danger. You've survived by hiding from the Borg. The Collective doesn't even know you exist. But we do. If you let us go back to our ship, we'll take that knowledge with us. If you let us leave your world the Borg might assimilate us. And if the Borg assimilate us, they'll know what we know. About you.

"Are you willing to take that chance? If you aren't, then you'd better kill us now, like you killed Crewman Thompson. You'd better destroy our ship, too, if you can. Voyager has powerful and sophisticated sensors, and I assure you, they're looking for us. If they discover you, you'll be in danger. Not from us. From the Borg."

Chakotay paused, and looked angrily around the room. "Let me tell you one more thing about us," he said. "Soon after we came to the Delta Quadrant, we encountered a species known as the Vidiians. They suffered from a fatal and incurable disease, and they needed organ transplants to keep themselves alive. They kidnapped innocent people, and killed them to harvest their organs. We had to fight them on several occasions, when they tried to harvest our crew.

"We encountered another species called the Kazon. We had to fight them as well, many times. But the Kazon didn't want our bodies. They wanted our ship. If we had shared our technology with them, they might have left us alone, even become our allies. But we wouldn't share. The Kazon would have used our technology to attack other people. We would have been sacrificing other people's lives to save our own, like the Vidiians did.

"But we're not like the Vidiians. There are some things we won't do, even to survive. We're not that kind of people."

Again, the disbelieving murmurs amongst the aliens.

"What about you?" asked Chakotay. "What kind of people are you? If you're willing to kill us to keep your secret, then as far as I'm concerned, you're no better than the Vidiians. Or the Kazon. or the Borg.

"I'm through answering your questions. Take me back to my cell, kill me, or let me go. It's up to you."

Chakotay fell silent. There are some things we won't do, he thought bitterly. Not even to save ourselves. We're not that kind of people.

Hypocrite.

Liar.

There was a short period of silence, which quickly turned into a number of quiet but heated discussions between the five aliens. Finally, one of them spoke.

"Passionate words," it sneered. "If you have such a death-wish, why not say so at the outset? It would have saved us much trouble."

"Miewhora!" the spokesperson snapped warningly, before turning its attention back to Chakotay. "Voyager will not find us. We've been monitoring your ship's attempts to locate you, and so far they have failed to breach even the meanest level of our passive systems. As far as they're concerned, you have simply vanished," it said, with a calm assurance in its voice.

The alien sitting to its right now spoke up.

"Envision the situation from our perspective," it said. "On one side, not even 200 individuals. On the other, an entire planet of over 5 billion individuals. While the loss of two hundred individuals is reprehensible, it pales in comparison to the loss of five billion - a single ship's crew against an entire culture, an entire civilization. If we were to trust you, the only alien species aside from the Borg we have made contact with in millennia, and then help you, not only to survive the virus, but to aid your departure, what becomes of us? You, Commander Chakotay, would leave, run, perhaps even fight the Borg and survive, but we would remain, defenceless and left wondering if today was the day they would come for us. All it would take would be for one of your crew to be assimilated, and we are lost.

"You are correct: for centuries we have survived only because the Borg no longer have any knowledge of us. But think: the very reason for our survival makes us exceptionally attractive to them. Imagine the Borg with our camouflage technology - and when you do so, realize that what you have seen is only a fraction of our capabilities. Would you take that chance? From this side of the table, Commander Chakotay, the loss of your crew seems a small price to pay for preventing not only our destruction, but the potential destruction of every other sentient being in this galaxy."

There was a slight pause as the apparent 'leader' of the group stood and stared straight at Chakotay. "If you can stand there and truthfully say that your crew of 150 is worth more than *trillions* of other lives, then it is you who is truly no better than the Borg - and perhaps you are even worse," it said flatly. "This interview is over. Take the prisoner back to his cell. The Council of Five is now in closed session."

After nearly 45 minutes, one Halogen pump had been removed. The Captain was amused at the difficulty.

"I swear, that Borg technology seems almost... stubborn. Who ever heard of a pump practically refusing to let itself be removed?"

"Believe me, Captain. This was nothing, compared to some of the stuff they put in Engineering."

"I can imagine. But I bet that in some ways, B'Elanna will be glad to get rid of it all. I wonder how she and Tom are getting along in Sickbay?"

Saying that, the Captain and Lt. Carey started on removing the second Halogen pump. The Captain's combadge soon beeped.

=/\= Wildman to Janeway =/\=

"Report."

=/\= Captain. Ship's sensors indicate that our probe has exploded. =/\=

"Already? What caused it?"

=/\= Nothing. At least, nothing our sensors could detect. =/\=

"And I take it the telemetry provided no useful data on the radiation."

=/\= Probably not. Now, it did provide several megaquads of new geological, meteorological, and other data on this planet. But I doubt it will help the Doctor... he'll have to determine that. As for someone detecting it as Borg technology, we may never know that answer. =/\=

"Well... at least we tried. Transfer the data we did get to the Doctor. As for you, get some sleep Ensign. That's an order."

=/\= Will do, Captain. Wildman out. =/\=

As she signed off, Captain Janeway shook her head and sighed. She returned to assisting Carey.

Torres paced around Engineering. Somewhere up there at Environmental Control, she knew Seven of Nine was busy taking Borg implants from the ship ... and there was nothing she could do about it.

Sure, she needed Seven of Nine's assistance to remove those implants ... but that didn't make her feel any better.

The thrum of the Warp Core. The heat of the plated ground. Torres felt more at home in Engineering then she did anywhere else. Sometimes it was hard to believe she'd been here just four years.

And now that goddamn Borg was deciding Engineering's fate ... unnoticed, Torres slammed her fist on a console.

Chakotay sat down on his bunk. He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, clasped his hands in front of him, and stared at the floor of his cell. He did not look up as the guards reactivated the force field and left the area.

He had failed. He was certain of it. He was going to die, and Voyager's crew would die along with him.

A small price to pay, he thought. One hundred and forty-eight lives to save a galaxy. Would you take that chance?

Would you?

Tuvok came out of his meditations as Chakotay was escorted back to his cell. He observed the whole event silently, and only when he was sure they were alone did he speak.

"Commander," he spoke, "your very posture and bearing bespeak defeat. I assume the meeting with our captors did not go well. What is our situation?"

"What is it, Kes?" the Doctor was sometimes like a father to her. This time he appeared more like a younger brother.

Kes smiled "I think that Tom and B'Elanna have become more than friends - closer than that."

Kes watched as the Doctor stood still, presumably replaying memories of events which had just transpired.

After many moments, he looked back at her. "Do you think so? They seem to be such an unlikely combination. Between B'Elanna's temper and Mister Paris' immaturity..."

Kes suppressed a chuckle. "I've come across a human saying 'opposites attract,' and it seems as if this may be the case with them. They must fulfill some need in each other - or perhaps they're attracted to each other despite themselves."

"Hmmm" His eyes squinted into wide slits. "This bears further observation. If what you're suggesting is true... Quite frankly, I don't think it will last. It can't."

Kes gave him a coy "we'll see" look in challenge; the Doctor met it with a raised chin and a mock dubious look. Then, with smiles on their faces, each resumed their duties.

Tom Paris sprinted down some corridors and finally reached Engineering.

The idea of seeing B´Elanna again made him feel much better but he also knew Voyager and its crew was still in danger.

The knowledge suddenly sent a chill through his body. He and B´Elanna had survived the explosion in the generator room but it had been a close shave. Very close.

And there was this edgy, pit-of-the-stomach, nervous feeling Tom had learned to pay attention to over the years.

This wasn´t over yet.

He scanned the room and found B´Elanna standing in front of a console.

"B´Elanna" he said.

She did not respond.

"B´Elanna, are you all right?" he tried again.

B'Elanna turned around and noticed Tom staring straight at her.

For a moment they both just stood there, staring.

"I am fine, thanks Lieutenant." B'Elanna moved over towards another console.

"I don't have time to chat though! Those damn Borg parts are interfering with most systems on the ship, I need to get on top of it" B'Elanna said looking directly at Tom.

After that she made her way to the 2nd floor of engineering. She looked back at Tom once, and then carried on with her work.

Chakotay glanced over at Tuvok and shook his head. "No," he said, "it didn't go well at all."

Chakotay got to his feet and leaned against the wall. He briefly described his meeting with the alien council. "Same old story," he concluded. "The Federation sacrificed its colonies in the Demilitarized Zone to avoid war with the Cardassians. These aliens are going to sacrifice us to avoid assimilation by the Borg. What's that Vulcan saying--the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few? Well, they're the many, and we're the few."

He paused, then sighed. "I'd appreciate some suggestions," he said.

Seven of Nine scanned the lower level, uncertain how to proceed. There were no Engineering officers in sight: only Lieutenant Paris. Finally, she decided that the helmsman might be able to assist her, and walked up to him.

"Lieutenant Paris," she said. "I require your assistance. Who is in command here?"

"I am" Torres said to Seven of Nine.

Torres had finished making her way to the second level of engineering.

She seemed furious that Seven had not noticed her and choose to instruct the help of Tom instead of her own.

"What do you need?" She asked Seven.

The Captain and Carey finished up in Environmental Control. Carey returned to Engineering, and Captain Janeway headed to the Mess Hall to grab some non-replicated coffee.

As she eventually arrived to the dark, desolate little bistro, she noticed that the galley lights were still on.

"Neelix. Getting ready for the breakfast crowd so soon? It's just three-thirty."

"Oh... Captain. I've actually been up for awhile. I was just looking over some recipes, seeing how some of the new plants and things can be used the best. Is there something I can do for you?"

"If you have any coffee on hand, you'll make my day. I've used up my rations until 0700."

He nodded, looking at her with his bratty grin, and directed her to wait right there. He had a pitcher of some steaming-hot, navy blue beverage on a burner and he poured it into a cup.

"Try this. I call it 'blue velvet'."

She tastes it. "Hmmm. Well, it does taste slightly like... coffee. It's not bad. It's a pretty color too. Is it native to this planet?"

"Yes ma'am. I found a large colony of blue beetles, whose little wings were loaded with caffeine."

Captain Janeway choked on the 'coffee' as the very words left his mouth. "Oh, Neelix. I think you should keep that fact a secret until the crew drinks it all. I'm guessing you used the little beetle bodies in another way?"

"I plan to... for tacos next week."

"And they'll be delicious, I'm sure," she added, with her famous double-hand gesture.

They laughed at that, and proceeded to the small couch to sit and have a moment to chat. Captain Janeway was in one of her moods - the kind only Neelix's counsel could improve.

"Captain. Why are you still awake... if you don't mind my asking."

"I guess... I guess I just need to be doing more," she said, as she took another sip of the blue coffee.

She continued. "I realize that every single department on this ship is doing their best work - be it repairing damaged systems, removing Borg technology, finding a treatment for Seven, looking for Chakotay and party... keeping our pantry stocked. I just feel like I'm not doing anything to help."

Neelix looked down at his feet, then toward the windows trying to pull out a response. He yawned, then replied. This time, he would try turning the tables.

"It is not your fault that we're stuck on this planet, Captain."

"I know. And it's certainly better than being assimilated." she sighed.

"Do you think we'll find them? The away-team, I mean."

"Ours is not a faithless journey, Mr. Neelix. We will find them and we will leave this planet intact... we need only have faith in each other, and our resources. Of course, it really wasn't much help to Harry Kim; but it's still all we've got."

Neelix shook his head in agreement. He knew Captain Janeway was capable of pulling herself out of her own uncertainties, especially if anyone under her command was needing encouragement. She was like that to a fault - one of the many reasons that earned her such loyalty over the years.

She finished the coffee, patted the Talaxian on the shoulder, then stood on her feet to leave. Neelix quickly entered the galley to pour her a metal carafe full of the odd, blue java. She accepted it happily, then left.

Tom had been contemplating B'Elanna's seemingly dismissive attitude when Seven approached him. Okay, she's busy, but "Lieutenant"? He remembered her three little words when they were trapped and wondered if she was already beginning to regret them. A product of the 'moment' maybe, nothing more. Or maybe he was just over-analyzing it.

Whatever the reason, Tom found himself turning to face the ex-Borg. But before he could reply to her question, he heard B'Elanna's voice from the upper level. Looking up to her, he could see she wasn't happy. "Good luck" he whispered supportively to the former drone, before departing Engineering.

Seven of Nine looked up, surprised at the sound of Lieutenant Torres' voice. The hot-tempered hybrid had returned from Sickbay.

"Good luck," whispered Lieutenant Paris.

Seven of Nine turned back to the Helmsman. Good luck? She would have asked him to clarify, but he was already on his way out of Engineering.

Lieutenant Torres called down again from the upper level. "What do you need?"

Seven of Nine clasped her hands behind her back, and looked up at the Chief Engineer.

"I am...reporting for duty," she said.

`She doesn't know what she's doing,` Thought B'Elanna.

"Seven, your Borg components are overrunning the ship. I need them off my ship now," she told her.

"Your ship," Seven replied.

"When I'm at Engineering and the ship is covered from head to toe like a Borg ship, then it is my job to get rid of it all. It is my ship" she replied getting slightly cross.

"I need you help up here with this, as it is your fault that we are in this predicament," she told her.

B'Elanna hated admitting that she needed Seven's help.

As the turbolift opened, Captain Janeway stepped out. She noticed the Helm console laying on the Bridge floor - unattached.

Ensign Castillo stood nearby using a tricorder, as Vorik aimed a phaser rifle at a strange, black metal disk which was integrated into the Helm console juncture.

"Is it just me, or is there something wrong with this picture?" she said, amused.

"Captain. Actually, we are removing Borg technology from this portion of the Navigational array. Seven of Nine stated that if we did not remove this fractal coordinate node in a timely manner, the Navigational system could be compromised." the Vulcan responded.

"I figured it was something like that. But, I must admit... I didn't realize that shooting the hell out of it was involved. Did Carey or B'Elanna okay this?"

"Affirmative. However, Lt. Torres was somewhat disturbed by the excision procedure instituted by Seven of Nine. I relayed the information to her in Engineering before Seven of Nine returned, to avoid a verbal conflict."

"B'Elanna's back to work? That definitely makes me feel more confident. Feel free to continue, gentlemen." the Captain said.

She shook her head, looking slightly perplexed at the spectacle of it all, and entered her Ready Room.

"Commander," Tuvok replied, "Logic dictates that in order to protect their society, we must be sacrificed. Given the nature of Borg assimilation, we would be placing them in jeopardy even if we escaped."

Tuvok paused momentarily, thinking of his family.

"However, despite their success at remaining undiscovered, I believe it is only a matter of time before they are revealed to the Borg. The Borg will someday adapt and assimilate them. I do not believe that the Prime Directive applies here. The illogic of hiding in the heart of Borg space is ultimately only a temporary measure. In this case, I also believe that the needs of the many are sometimes equal to the needs of the few.

"We should not remain here."

Chakotay nodded. "I'm listening," he said.

Lieutenant Carey returned to Engineering. He noticed Torres and Seven in a discussion on the upper level, Tom using a console near the warp core, and the hectic atmosphere in the busy room. But his larger PADD at the lower work station grabbed his attention.

Lieutenant Torres at some point had written orders for him to repair the fusion generators that she and Paris were attempting to fix - before their 'booming' interruption.

He sighed, took the PADD, and headed to the location. On the way, he overshot deck eleven to go to the Mess Hall... to grab some coffee. The usual reason that countless officers and crew raided the eatery at night.

As he walked through the doors, Neelix was spotted at a table, staring at a pile of wilted ivy. The cook/morale officer tasted a leaf, got a nauseated look on his face, and wiped his tongue on a towel.

"You'll make an excellent soup," he mumbled to himself, taking notes on a PADD.

"Umm... Neelix." Carey said, approaching from behind.

"Lieutenant. Good morning. You look like you need a 'cup of Joe.' Get it?"

Carey laughed. "Yes, and yes, thanks."

Neelix got up, and poured some more of the blue coffee into another carafe. "You'll like this. It - grows - on this planet."

"Thanks. Ha ha... as long as it isn't bug juice or anything."

"No. Of course not. It's plain old coffee, just from a blue source," Neelix replied, grinning sly and toothy.

"Well. I am off to deck eleven. See ya' later," Carey said. He left, oblivious to the coffee's origin.

Neelix then returned to his culinary tests, now eating an orange ant. A new flavor for ice-cream?

Seven of Nine listened to Lieutenant Torres without comment. Once it was clear that Torres required her presence, she moved to the lift and rode it to the upper level. At the top, she stepped off, and walked over to the Chief Engineer.

"How may I be of assistance, Lieutenant?"

"I need you to repair the damage that you have done to the ship," B'Elanna told her.

"The damage that I have done?" Seven asked.

"Yes, you! If it wasn't for the collective and your modifications to Voyager we wouldn't be in this predicament" B'Elanna said.

B'Elanna turned away from Seven and moved to a console.

"Look at this, the Borg components have completely overrun the backup holodeck and transporter processors. You can start on that, while I assess how much other damage you have done to the ship." B'Elanna left Seven at the console and went back to the main floor of Engineering.

She began working at a console, but had only one thing on her mind. Tom Paris.

"Why did I call him Lieutenant? Dammit," B'Elanna said out loud.

"Lieutenant?" Seven asked.

"Nothing, get back to work." B'Elanna tried to put Tom out of her mind but was having no luck.

"Computer, locate Tom Paris." she pressed her combadge.

=/\= Tom Paris is in transit to the Bridge =/\= the computer replied.

B'Elanna stood still for a few minutes and then hurried out of Engineering. She hurried along the corridors towards the Bridge to find Tom. After a few corridors she saw him walking up ahead.

She stopped and shouted at him. "Tom!"

Lintorhan grimaced into her cup. However, while sour to the point of inducing gagging, her beverage of choice - a derivative of the mitol plant called mitoi, which contained a mild stimulant - was not the primary source of her displeasure. No, the real cause for her grimace was the blind stubbornness of some of her colleagues. Astorah caught her increasingly irritated expression and sighed. He knew the situation, and the stakes as well, if not better than she did, despite his earlier speech. The alien comparing them to the Borg - them! Them, of all people, who had spent centuries of striving to remain apart from the Borg - had infuriated them all, even the normally level-headed Lintorhan herself. And there had been definite truth in Astorah's words that allowing the aliens to leave was incredibly risky - not just for themselves but the galaxy as a whole. What the Borg would do if they ever discovered their concealment technology didn't bear thinking about. But on the other hand, there was such potential for gain here… the knowledge held by these people could revitalize their society. Perhaps they could even…

It was worth thinking about... or at least she and War thought so. At least one of the other three would need to be convinced that the risks could be offset - and they must be convinced before the next cycle began. The vote must be made by then.

Lintorhan reviewed the latest surveillance reels and wondered if, perhaps, they would have been better served by interviewing all the prisoners - or at least the dark-skinned one, rather than just the one who appeared to lead. It was correct in that hiding from the Borg could only ever be a temporary measure. It had only been seen as one by her ancestors, those who remained behind. But they had remained hidden, successfully, for centuries, and it was very easy to forget that every passing day increased the chance the Borg would try to populate this world again - and succeed. What then?

"What then indeed?" she said aloud, without realizing it, and heads jerked around at her interruption. After a few moments silence, she elaborated. "The Borg will come for us, sooner or later. What then? Why condemn the aliens to die for no other crime than landing on this planet?"

"It is the 'sooner' rather than the 'later' I am concerned about," Miewhora said testily. "Allowing the aliens to leave increases the chance of our discovery by a thousand fold. We have survived for centuries only by remaining hidden! We can not afford to destroy our only protection!" he exclaimed, gesturing widely. "What can they possibly offer us in return that even comes close to justifying the risk!?"

There was a small silence. Finally, Astorah spoke out, airing an idea that had no one in centuries had truly dared contemplate.

"Perhaps a way to leave."

Seven of Nine watched incredulously as Lieutenant Torres left Engineering. Then, frowning and sighing in exasperation, she returned to her work.

Backup holodeck and transporter processors. She could not understand why the Chief Engineer had assigned her to repair such low-priority systems. Or why she had been left to do the work unassisted. She could have showed the Engineering crew how to dissimilate the processors themselves, and left them to finish the task while she supervised more important repairs elsewhere. It was incredibly inefficient. She was wasted here. She...

The pain, again. She closed her eyes and put her hand to her forehead. Pain was irrelevant. She opened her eyes, and looked around quickly. No one had seen. She could not afford to waste any more time in Sickbay, in a futile attempt to delay the inevitable.

She resumed her work. But--something else was wrong. She took her left hand away from the console and studied it.

It was trembling slightly. For a few seconds, she watched it, fascinated. Then, she made a fist and glanced around again. No one was looking. Good.

Not much time now. No time to waste.

After nearly an hour of removing Borg modifications from the Bridge, Castillo and Vorik buzzed at the Ready Room door. Captain Janeway was busy at her desk reviewing the Ops logs for the past month.

"Enter," she said.

"Captain. We've removed the Borg parts from the Bridge... but there may be a problem with another procedure. I wanted to make absolutely sure that you approved before we began. Vorik?"

"Captain. It is imperative that the sensor array be taken offline for a determined period of time. The removal procedure prescribed by Seven-of-Nine requires it."

"I'd actually prefer not to while our people are missing; but if that's what is required to prevent damage... looks like we have no choice. How long will you need to keep it offline?" the Captain asked, rubbing her brow.

"Approximately 3.2 hours."

"Go ahead then. Try not to take any longer than that. By the way, what needs to be removed?"

He handed her the PADD - one of the many tutorials the ex-drone recently penned. Captain Janeway read part of it aloud.

"...to remove the autonomous omniphasic booster-matrix from the primary and secondary sensor telemetry grid."

She smirked in amazement, then suddenly changed her mind.

"You know, I'd actually prefer that you postpone this removal for the time being."

"Captain?" Vorik asked.

"I know you probably object, Ensign. Seven may too, or may not. But since the Borg have made such a novel enhancement to our sensors... are we truly taking full advantage?"

Castillo nodded in agreement. Vorik blinked in suppressed disdain. The Captain continued.

"I'd like to hear more from our resident drone. Mr. Castillo, if you'd like to get some rest, feel free: you've earned it. You're dismissed, gentlemen."

As the Ensigns left her Ready Room, the Captain reclaimed the Bridge - and her seat of contentment. Vorik returned to engineering, Castillo to his quarters.

Captain Janeway tapped her combadge. "Captain to Seven of Nine. Report to the Bridge when you can.. I need to speak with you."

=/\= Understood. =/\=

Seven of Nine looked at her work in dismay. She estimated it would take another seventy-four minutes to complete this task. Too long. It would have to be delegated. It should have been delegated in the first place, she thought irritably.

She looked over her shoulder. An Engineering crewman was taking readings from the forward console. Seven adopted what she hoped was an authoritative posture, and did her best to speak in a tone of command. "Crewman," she said.

The young man looked up in surprise. "Yes?"

"I require your assistance."

He strolled over. "What can I do for you?"

"The Borg modifications must be removed from the backup transporter and holodeck processors," she said, pointing. "This is a Borg mialoid. Each of these units must be removed according to the following procedure. Begin by disconnecting the primary regeneration sequencer, here."

Step by step, she demonstrated the dissimilation procedure. It was still strange to her, explaining things verbally. There had been no need for explanations in the Collective.

"The mialoid can now be removed," she said, pulling it out. "Do not attempt to recycle these items. They will assimilate your replicators. Now you," she said, holding out the dissimilator.

"Ma'am, I really have to--"

"Comply," she said harshly; her headache had sharpened the edge of her impatience.

"Uh--okay."

"Hold it like so. Make adjustments by twisting the collar, here. Now," she said, pointing at another mialoid, "disconnect the primary regeneration sequencer."

The crewman was reasonably efficient. "Got it," he said, at last.

"Now," she said, "repeat the procedure until all the mialoids have been removed."

"Yes, ma'am. What about the gelpack?" The bioneural gelpack was ordinarily translucent blue; now it was full of green and black slime.

"It has been assimilated," said Seven of Nine. "Replace it."

"Are you sure? We can't replicate gelpacks. Lieutenant Torres will want an explanation if we don't even try to salvage this one."

Seven of Nine frowned. The gelpack could not be salvaged. It had been assimilated. It would have to be...

...Replaced. Or would it?

"Replace it for now," she said. "Contact the Emergency Medical Hologram. It may be able to devise a dissimilation procedure."

"Yes, ma'am." The crewman set to work removing a third mialoid.

Seven tapped her combadge. "Seven of Nine to Captain Janeway."

=/\= Janeway here =/\=