"No."

She came awake quietly--somehow, she always expected that after a nightmare, she'd wake up hard, heart racing, breath coming too fast--maybe screaming.

But she woke up the same as she had every morning since she returned. Quietly, on dry sheets. Alone.

God, she wanted Chakotay here. He'd slept on her couch last night, staying with her--is this who you want to be, Captain? Needing someone to keep a night-light on for you?

That thought stiffened her spine. She sat up.

She pushed the sheets back, swinging her bare feet to the floor. Her back twinged, but nothing she couldn't handle--

That she had to tell herself to do that--she gritted her teeth together, pressing her hands to her mattress, and got up. Slowly, she walked to the replicator.

"Coffee, black."

She waited as the replicator obeyed, and her coffee appeared. Picking it up with one steady hand, she took a sip, ignoring the heat, and walked into her bedroom again.

She had nothing to do.

Well, that wasn't strictly true. There were crew evaluations she had to get done, the paperwork every Captain seems to be flooded with, some reports from Chakotay to go over...but none of it held her fascination as those recordings did.

When they'd been left on that godforsaken planet, the disks had been dropped beside her. She wished to God Chakotay had left them there.

They sat on her desk, small and innocuous.

Tom's torture, to remind them...to mock them...to tell them what they would do to her entire crew if they got the chance.

The cup shook in her hand, hot liquid splashing her wrist and fingers, and she dropped the cup, not caring where it landed, feeling the splash on her bare legs and feet. She winced, trying to breathe through the shot of fear.

Of the heat against her skin. She remembered--

Slowly, she sank to her knees on the floor, reaching for her coffee cup.

Wondering why it was so damned hard to breathe.

Harry Kim was early for his shift. Chakotay, sitting in the Big Chair, noted it as the younger man walked in, uniform fresh and straight, hair neatly combed--and looking as if he hadn't slept in a month.

Chakotay debated telling the younger man to take the shift off--he looked like hell, and apparently knew it. The brown eyes had skipped away when he looked over, and the long fingers shakily began performing diagnostics even before his predecessor had moved away from the console. Shoulders bowed in, head lowered, he seemed shrunk in on himself.

:::Carey to Commander Chakotay.:::

Chakotay pulled his eyes from the ops officer and touched his commbadge.

"Chakotay here. What do you need, Lieutenant?"

:::There's a problem with the warp manifold alignment. We need to leave warp, Commander.:::

Always on my shift. Chakotay sighed--and hated himself for the sudden resentment of B'Elanna's absence on Alpha. She'd asked to switch to Gamma the week before, a request he hadn't considered denying. Her reasons had been sound, if a little cold--the Gamma shift needed more supervision as Crewman Marla Gilmore had just been added to the skeleton crew in Engineering, and she wanted to supervise the former Equinox crewmember personally.

The real reason she didn't bother to tell him--he already knew. She spent Alpha and most of Beta shifts in Sickbay, helping the Doctor in his research for a cure for Tom. Upgrading diagnostic equipment, working on the spectral analysis scope that would look into the cell membranes themselves--the Doctor, Chakotay reflected, had probably never had so much undivided B'Elanna-attention in his holographic life.

From the look on his face when Chakotay saw him, he wasn't appreciating it.

Chakotay forced himself to bury his guilty smirk at that thought.

:::Commander?:::

"Okay, Carey." He tapped the channel shut and looked at Baytart, who'd half-turned, almost as if anticipating the next order. "Drop to half-impulse, Ensign."

"Yes, sir." He sounded remarkably enthusiastic. Chakotay decided that the boredom of the Conn must have something to do with it--Tom and Baytart had been friends as well as department head and subordinate. With little to do while piloting, it left his thoughts to drift--think about the man in Sickbay.

Chakotay doubted, especially in this monotonous area of space, that anyone's thoughts left Tom--or the Captain for that matter.

Including his own.

She was still asleep--he hoped. To his shock, she'd actually taken the hypo the Doctor had sent to help her sleep. Perhaps that was what was worrying him--that she didn't argue, didn't fight, didn't insist she was just fine.

Kathryn Janeway was *always* just fine. No matter the circumstance, whether she was holding Hirogen at bay with a phaser rifle or being mocked by Kashyk--she was always herself.

"Commander?"

Relieved, Chakotay turned his attention to Ensign Baytart.

* * * * *

B'Elanna sat by Tom's bed, running the medical tricorder slowly over him. Oddly enough, the Doctor hadn't commented on her sudden knowledge of medicine this morning--and she hoped he'd keep it that way. Though she had to suppose that worrying over the virus kept him pretty much occupied.

Just the way she wanted it.

She checked the time, then correlated the tricorder's readings quickly with other available information, before deleting the neural and physiological irregularities that her memories told her had nothing to do with the virus. Those irregularities were unnecessary for anyone to know yet.

"Lieutenant."

She turned, but not before brushing his hand with the tips of her fingers.

"I'll be right back, Tom," she said, then smoothed the blanket before turning to face the Doctor.

"Yes, Doctor?"

"Can I have the readings now?" He looked--wary? She swallowed a smile, remembering the tricorder, forgotten in one hand, and quickly handed it over.

"Neural activity is stable, and the virus seems to be dormant. It hasn't made any advances into his major organs," she reported easily, watching him quickly scan the readings.

"It attacks on the cellular level," the Doctor answered testily, turning away to once again retreat to his office--B'Elanna noted he spent a lot of time there over the past week, since she'd taken up semi-permanent residence. "I'll be in my office." The redundancy of his statement almost forced a giggle out of her, and B'Elanna knew--just *knew*--that she had to get some sleep. Soon.

She nodded agreeably, however, and turned back to the bed, finding her chair and sitting down before picking up her PADD.

:::Carey to Torres.:::

She touched her commbadge on, eyes never leaving the screen.

"Torres here, Carey. Whatcha need?"

There was a pause on the other side of the line, and she blinked a little. That phrasing was wrong. The neural inhibitor was wearing off. She scrolled to Seven's calculations at the end of the PADD, then closed her eyes, calling up the fragmented memories she had of medical procedure.

Seven had been right. It wouldn't last long.

:::We have to leave warp, Lieutenant. The warp plasma manifolds are out of alignment. Do you want--:::

"I'll be down in five minutes. Torres out." She tapped the line closed, rising, then leaned down, touching Tom's forehead carefully.

"I'll be back, okay? All you need to do is keep breathing--I'll know when you aren't, and you don't want to piss me off, do you?" Am I losing my mind? He can't hear me. "Tom, just--" she broke off, then slowly leaned forward, brushing her lips across his cheek. His skin was warm--and she felt something on her own cheek too--a brush--

She closed her eyes at the touch. Feather light on her own skin.

It was addictive. She did it again, leaning into it.

Then blinked, abruptly straightening, pulling herself away. The caress vanished as her fingers left his face.

A little unsteadily, she moved to the medical stores, finding the neural inhibitor easily--I've worked in Sickbay too long, the Doc needs a new nurse, damn it.--and loaded it into a hypospray, dropping it in her pocket.

"I'm going to engineering, Doc," she called, and noticed him straightening suddenly, moving from his hunched position over the monitor. Before he could speak, however, she'd already walked out the door, PADD securely in hand.

Before she left Sickbay, she checked the chronometer again. 1024.

Seven walked into the shuttlebay as if she owned it.

"Ensign Vorik."

The young Vulcan rose instantly from his diagnostics on the Delta Flyer's exterior.

"Seven of Nine," he said precisely. "How may I help you?"

She studied the young Vulcan, trying to place her uneasy feelings--a grasp of hands on her face...

"Seven of Nine?"

Seven blinked, shaking her head sharply.

"Lieutenant Torres requires your presence in Engineering," she stated. "I am to relieve you." P'taq. The thought startled her again, and she forced herself to keep her face expressionless.

One Vulcan brow raised, possibly the Vulcan equivalent of shock. He was trying to imagine, she supposed, the circumstance that would lead to Lieutenant Torres allowing Seven alone with any piece of machinery without supervision. Her lip twitched.

Vorik, however, must be aware that she, Seven, did not lie. Without unnecessary conversation, he put away his instruments, handed her the tricorder he'd been utilizing, and left the Shuttlebay.

Seven waited until the door was closed before speaking.

"Computer, initiate program Torres Alpha One, engage immediately. Authorization Seven One Nine Four Beta."

:::Program active.:::

Seven picked up the tools and did a cursory examination of the Flyer, checking to confirm that it was fully operational. Then snapped it quickly shut, dropping it in the toolkit before approaching the Shuttlebay controls.

She tapped a short series of commands into the console, then knelt and removed the panel to begin rerouting energy.

Her hands were becoming damp. She paused to run them over her legs, feeling the moisture collect on the back of her neck. A quick glance told her environmental controls were not at fault--her body chemistry was being affected by the break-down of the neural inhibitor and access to the memories of Lieutenant Torres and Ensign Paris.

It was--interesting. She took a moment to explore the sensations--unable to really help it, fascinated with the contrast of feeling--she'd never understood human reproduction--sex--the drive for it, the warmth--the feel of a mouth covering hers, caressing her forehead, stroking her ridges so lightly, pressing his fingers against her cheeks...wanting to push him down, own him, tasting his wrist, feeling how hot she was when she touched her...

Seven stiffened abruptly, the feelings easing as she brought her mind under strict control, the sense of order she'd known as a Borg, the technique she'd perfected since coming to Voyager--but this was the Collective, though only two other minds with hers, so different, so much to explore, to taste, to smell...

Taking a cooling breath, she turned her full attention to her assignment. Her hand shook.

* * * * *

"Torres to Carey."

:::Carey here.::: He sounded wary. If I had to deal with B'Elanna as my superior, I would be too. Shit, it's wearing off too fast. B'Elanna touched the hypospray in her pocket, but removed her hand.

She knew that would disrupt what she needed--Tom's ability to pilot the Flyer, if all else failed, away from an extremely hostile Voyager. She couldn't take the risk...there was still so much she needed from Tom's memories, and the neural inhibitor shut down the link too completely for her to use it now.

She drew in a deep breath.

"I'll be Jefferies Tube 12B to check power flow," she stated, hoping to God Carey was too busy with the warp manifolds to wonder why the Chief Engineer was not coming to Engineering directly to find out what the problem was. "Torres out." She tapped the signal closed.

B'Elanna ducked into a Jefferies Tube, noticing two crewmembers pass as she did so. Perfect. She closed the hatch behind her and pulled her commbadge off, dropping it on the floor.

"Computer, lock on to my commbadge, initiate site to site transport, Jefferies Tube 7C to Jefferies Tube 12B. Energize."

It shimmered out of sight.

"Computer, initiate program Torres Alpha Two, engage immediately. Recognize voice commands from Lieutenant Torres and Seven of Nine only. Authorization Seven One Nine Four Beta."

:::Authorization verified. Program running.:::

B'Elanna felt a smile stretch her lips as she began to crawl to the next hatch.

"Computer, location of Commander Chakotay?"

:::Commander Chakotay is on the Bridge.:::

B'Elanna nodded.

"Computer, open a channel to the Bridge using general conn system."

:::Channel open.:::

"Torres to Chakotay."

She grinned a little as she stripped out of her turtleneck, gripping it in one hand as she crawled to the next junction.

:::Chakotay here. What is it, B'Elanna?:::

B'Elanna opened the hatch and got out into the tall space, where she removed the rest of her uniform and dropped it in a pile. The clothing she'd left here would be much more appropriate--she wasn't a Starfleet officer now.

She picked up the shirt.

"I need some help re-aligning the power relays in Jefferies Tube 12B. I think they may be the reason the manifold got out of alignment. Could you come down here and assist me, sir?" She was no longer quite certain whether or not it was suspicious that she was asking for his personal help. The neural link was getting stronger. Tom's very natural paranoia was starting to assert itself, and while she knew she'd need it, she wasn't quite ready for it. She took out the neural inhibitor from her uniform pants, then finished dressing.

Seven hadn't warned her of the personality overlap. Nor had the research B'Elanna had done. But--but, but, but--it was turning out pretty useful.

In fact, necessary. There were things Tom knew about this ship that even B'Elanna didn't--after all, he'd commanded Voyager for a week during the K'eya occupation. She had access to his memories, his codes--and his ability.

:::I'll be right down.::: He sounded resigned. She forced down a chuckle--the big guy always seemed to have lousy luck on his shift in command of the Bridge. Especially any time she was at the helm--

She pulled her trousers on, then searched for her boots. As she sat down to put them on, she remembered something else she had to do.

"Computer, locate Seven of Nine?"

:::Seven of Nine is in Shuttlebay 2.:::

B'Elanna nodded in satisfaction and stood up, brushing her hair back before piling her uniform in a dark corner. There was a nice finality to it. She picked up the PADD, then checked the time. 1117 hours.

"All right. Stage two."

* * * * *

Harry got Seven's message loud and clear over his board. A simple set of normal codes.

He hadn't been that hard to convince last night. He tapped in the correct commands, watching Chakotay bemusedly leave the Bridge. Tuvok, at Tactical, had only glanced up to watch him go.

Harry drew in a deep breath.

Tom or Starfleet.

It wasn't even a choice.

He entered the correct commands and stepped back.

* * * * *

Janeway noted the change from warp to impulse and took her commbadge from her nightstand.

"Janeway to the Bridge."

:::Tuvok here, Captain.:::

"Why did we leave warp?"

A pause. Tuvok was accessing the data. She waited impatiently--anything was better, even a malfunction of this degree, than being alone with her own thoughts.

:::The warp manifolds came out of alignment, Captain.:::

Janeway shook her head, realizing she was shaking and brought it under sharp control. She had to get out of here. She had to.

"How?" She moved to her closet, searching out a clean uniform.

:::I do not know, Captain. Lieutenant Carey in engineering is working on the malfunction now.:::

Not B'Elanna? Though she remembered that Chakotay had switched B'Elanna's shifts recently--it had been on one of the reports she was steadily ignoring.

"Where is Commander Chakotay?" She found a shirt, putting her commbadge down to remove her nightgown and pull her turtleneck over her head.

:::He is assisting Lieutenant Torres in adjusting the power relays.:::

Janeway paused. That would not usually be B'Elanna's territory. Usually, if something happened to her warp engines, she'd be down there herself--not checking relays. She'd send one of her crew to do that.

"I'll be on the Bridge in five minutes. Janeway out." She didn't give him time to argue.

* * * * *

Chakotay was starting to believe he'd been crawling for hours.

"B'Elanna?"

No answer. Not that he seriously expected her to, though. He knew B'Elanna, after all--she could tune out a Borg invasion when she was deep in her work.

Though he had to wonder why in the name of the Spirits she was down here. He'd have expected her to be supervising personally in engineering.

So she's learned to delegate. He grinned, imagining B'Elanna's reaction to a concept he was reasonably sure was as foreign to the Engineer as the idea of actually taking a day off.

He crawled another few feet and narrowed his eyes at the endless Jefferies Tube in front of him.

Damn, he hated these things.

"B'Elanna? Computer, locate Lieutenant Torres."

:::Lieutenant Torres is in Jefferies Tube 12B.:::

"I'm *in* 12 B and I'm not seeing her!"

Chakotay sometimes wondered.

And his knee pressed into something sharp.

"Damn." He pulled himself back, moving to a sitting position, and picked up the object.

A commbadge.

He looked around the Jefferies Tube, startled.

B'Elanna--

And jumped when the soft sizzle of a forcefield went up five feet on either side of him. His head hit the roof of the tube and he cursed sharply, grabbing for the top of his head. Quickly, he hit his commbadge.

Nothing.

And it came together, just like that.

* * * * *

:::Ensign Kim to Seven of Nine.:::

Seven of Nine sat up, wiping grease casually on her thighs before touching her commbadge.

"Yes, Harry?"

There was a long pause. Seven wondered why.

:::The Captain is coming to the Bridge.::: His voice was uncertain.

Seven nodded to herself. Quickly, she checked her work.

"Thanks, Harry," she answered. "Paris out."

She studied the configurations--and realized what she had said.

No wonder Harry was confused. She forced down a grin, wondering if she had remembered to bring a neural inhibitor--but B'Elanna's instructions had been clear. They needed the link. And shutting herself from the link would lessen B'Elanna's access as well.

She found, more and more, that she minded the link less and less. She rose, closing the panel down and turning back to the control console.

"Computer, location of Captain Janeway."

:::Captain Janeway is in her quarters.:::

They'd prepared for that too. Seven hesitated over the keys, thinking of what they were doing--locking the Captain in her own quarters--removing her access to all communications

B'Elanna seemed to agree. Seven tapped in her commands.

"Computer, run program Torres Alpha One. Initiate security procedure Tuvok Nine Beta on the quarters of Captain Kathryn Janeway, deny all access to comm system, authorization Seven One Nine Four."

A long pause. The security program had been used on Lon Suder at one time. B'Elanna's adaptation of it had been efficient--and simple.

Not for the first time, Seven wondered why the security on Voyager was so lax.

"Computer, state time."

:::1200 hours.:::

Seven nodded and went to the Delta Flyer.

Twenty minutes.

* * * * *

B'Elanna finished wiring when she felt Harry's comm to Seven. She paused.

She couldn't pretend she'd understood what she had authorized Seven to do to them.

It was so damned hard to keep those identities apart. B'Elanna no longer even tried. If anyone had ever asked her if she would willingly hook herself up to what amounted to a miniature Collective, she would have laughed in their face.

Yet--it was not what she had expected at all.

It was--it was seductive as hell. The constant presence of someone else, their support, their emotions...

She could feel him constantly. She knew he wasn't dead.

She knew exactly what Seven was doing in the Shuttlebay--activating the security program. They were timed perfectly.

Grinning, she rerouted the power flow. The tricorder hooked into the ship's systems log went off, the little light flashing. Absently, she reached out one hand and shut it off. Her warning device, when the commbadge she'd transported was tripped.

The forcefield was in place. Perfect.

Janeway and Chakotay down. One to go.

She checked the time.

Fifteen minutes.

* * * * *

Lieutenant Carey honestly began to believe that his personal, non-Klingon Day of Honor had just started.

He remembered B'Elanna's every year--her worst days tended to fall around that oh so life-affirming, Klingon holiday that B'Elanna growled at the mention of, and it was an issue of the chicken or egg--was it because that day was unlucky, or was it because she made it unlucky? He wasn't sure.

He just knew he was having one.

Warp plasma manifolds went off-line for no particular reason. Okay, not exactly unusual. Voyager desperately needed a refit--and things broke down all the time. Vorik had been sent by Lieutenant Torres to help, but she herself was checking out power relays in Jefferies Tubes, and he couldn't figure out why.

Worse, the diagnostics weren't even pretending to know what was wrong with them. He'd run a dozen diagnostics, had Sue Nicoletti and several other engineers running every conceivable test--and they simply wouldn't go back into balance.

And most frustrating of all, he wanted Lieutenant Torres down here, because he simply had no idea what else to do that he hadn't already done. And she wasn't answering his comms.

"Lieutenant, I found something."

Vorik, full of what looked remarkably like Vulcan aplomb, but wasn't, if the twitch of a Vulcan eyebrow was any indication, appeared before him crisply and handed him a PADD.

"What is this?"

Vorik took a breath, and Carey allowed himself, despite his stress, to wonder what the hell was going on.

"Someone sabotaged the manifolds," Vorik said finally. Carey read over the short report again. "Borg algorithms were used to break the programming that kept the manifolds in perfect alignment."

Carey didn't even bother speaking for a moment. His hand hovered over his commbadge.

Why it suddenly seemed to make sense, he didn't know.

"Should I call security?"

Carey lifted his eyes, meeting the Vulcan's for a moment, then looked back down at the PADD. Seven's calculations--but only B'Elanna had the authorization to get those in there, in the one place they'd never think to look, the one thing they probably would not have checked.

"Has his condition changed?" Carey asked softly. Vorik did not misunderstand.

"No. The Doctor has not yet found a method of removing the virus."

So Vorik understood too. Carey looked at Sue Nicoletti, brushing her hair back from her face with one grime-covered hand, then at the rest of the engineering staff. Her head turned, as if sensing his gaze, and the blue eyes met his for a moment before she turned her attention back to supervising the crew.

"I served under him," Carey replied slowly. "And I serve under her." He handed Vorik the PADD. "Erase it. When--when its over, no one will ever know it was anything other than a malfunction. Give them thirty minutes."

Vorik paused. Carey waited--wondering--God, Vorik had served as one of the three interrogators of the K'eya, had helped lead the mutiny that got those infected by the K'eya off the ship, had assisted in the removal of the K'eya from the crew.

But Carey knew this was different. This couldn't be explained by extreme circumstance, couldn't be dismissed under the general Inquiry Janeway had provided them. What B'Elanna--and apparently Seven--were doing was against everything he and Vorik believed in, what had drawn them into Starfleet.

She was going to get the cure. But Carey also knew she was going for revenge.

That's what had decided him. He waited for Vorik's response.

Vorik took the PADD and hit the delete button with one finger.

"Yes, sir."

* * * * *

Harry entered the turbolift that would take him back to the Bridge.

His head hurt.

And Seven probably didn't even realize what she had said.

He leaned back against the turbolift wall, trying to think.

That link was doing something to them both, he knew it. He couldn't forget B'Elanna's little smile when he asked, Seven's upraised eyebrow--the way the two women worked in almost perfect tandem. Sometimes, they even moved in tandem.

It reminded him of the Collective, in a way--and didn't in another. And disturbed him in so many ways.

The turbolift door abruptly opened, and Ayala walked in.

Harry nodded briefly and kept his gaze on the floor.

"She's going after them, isn't she?" Ayala's voice was soft.

"Huh?" Harry knew he should be making some kind of denial. He'd prepared himself for suspicions--he hadn't come nearly close to being prepared for someone confronting him openly with the fact.

"Halt turbolift." Ayala turned to face him, brown eyes dark. "She's going after them. Tuvok was just called me to take the Bridge--the Captain is locked in her quarters, he can't contact her."

"Chakotay was called by B'Elanna to assist her, and his commbadge is out of order as well."

"Plasma leaks," Harry said, straightening suddenly. "It interferes with the comm system." Do they know? Shit, I've got to tell them, they need to know now what's happening--they've got to get out now--

"I'm not stupid, Harry." The voice is soft and intense. "I served under him, I know B'Elanna. And I can do simple math. Manifolds plus malfunction in Captain's quarters plus Chakotay disappearing. Equals B'Elanna."

Harry was beginning to wonder who the hell else would guess. They only had seven minutes left.

"They need to leave now."

Harry, startled, looked up to see Ayala wasn't looking at him at all. The older man stared straight ahead, mouth a tight line.

"I have the authorization to get the weapons--I know they haven't gotten them yet, it takes a very complicated security code to get in the locker," he said softly, then gave Harry--or the wall perhaps--a nod. "Tell them to go now. I'll beam them to the Flyer in five minutes. Computer, resume."

Harry blinked. When they got to the Bridge, Harry walked numbly to his station, not looking at Ayala, not looking at anything, staring blankly at his board.

He punched in the sequence Seven had told him to use to get her messages when he couldn't comm her, then a brief warning, and stepped back.

Waited.

His career, his life--and Tom.

And looking at Ayala, he nodded.

* * * * *

B'Elanna finished her simple sabotage and climbed out of the Jefferies Tubes.

"Computer, site to site transport to Shuttlebay 2. Lock onto my lifesigns. Energize."

Seven was waiting patiently.

"Everything ready?"

Seven nodded and moved to the Flyer's hatch.

"Tuvok is attempting to disable security on Captain Janeway's quarters," Seven replied easily. "Weapons will be delivered in approximately three minutes, fifteen seconds."

B'Elanna nodded

"Ayala authorized the transfer," she replied. "We've got to move."

Seven paused before she entered, turning blue eyes on B'Elanna, and the other woman gave the Borg a smirk.

"Are you worried, Seven?"

"Worry is irrelevant."

B'Elanna grinned.

"That's my Borg. Come on, everything's in place." She left the console with a final touch of the keys and turned to Seven. "All right, let's see how this baby can fly."

* * * * *

"Unauthorized launching in Shuttlebay 2," said Harry's replacement. Tuvok had commed him only moments before--he had the Bridge.

Well, this might not have been in B'Elanna's plan, but it was working pretty damn well.

"Stop them." That's original, Harry.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Cortez try to enter the necessary commands.

"I'm locked out of shuttlebay controls!" she said, turning big blue eyes on Harry Kim. He knew it wasn't appropriate to chuckle--they were in the middle of a major situation--but he couldn't help but contrast her usual good cheer to the fish eyed look she was giving him--not to mention the gape of her mouth.

He nodded, as he'd seen the Captain do when she was being especially regal, and turned to the console beside the Captain's chair. Ayala, manning Tactical, was doing something--Harry hoped to God he wasn't caught, wasn't doing anything traceable--Harry, he helped plan and lead a mutiny. I think he knows what he is doing.

Harry waited another beat, then touched his commbadge.

"Kim to Commander Tuvok. We have an unauthorized launching from Shuttlebay Two."

Harry waited.

:::On my way, Ensign Kim.:::

"I can't override. The Delta Flyer is out." He almost felt sorry for Cortez. She'd only been cross-training for a week, and this came up. He got out of his chair, quickly getting to her side to help--kind of.

There was a curious sense of exultation.

"On screen," he said, leaving her side, wishing he was with them now--wishing they hadn't made him promise to conceal what he had done as long as he could--Damn, I'm not ashamed of this. The Captain should have gone back, she should have, and she didn't, she's letting Tom die for the Prime Directive, applying it as she wants. Not this time.

"Ensign, open a channel."

Clumsily, Cortez did.

"Voyager to Delta Flyer. Stand down and return immediately to Voyager."

No response. He didn't expect one.

"Ayala, target their impulse engines and fire."

Ayala gave him a look, but Harry returned it, and Ayala nodded.

"Locking in--weapons are off-line."

Harry couldn't stop his smile.

"Bring warp engines on-line," B'Elanna ordered from the pilot's seat, her fingers moving with practiced ease across the panel. "Bringing her about, heading 609 mark 32." The Flyer was probably the sweetest little ship she had ever flown--maybe it was designer's pride that inspired it, she didn't know or care. Advanced Borg shielding and weapons, the most sensitive controls in the known universe--she responded to her touch with familiar ease. And Tuvok had said they weren't designing a hotrod--

Pain flared across B'Elanna's forehead and she gasped, but her hands never left the controls.

"B'Elanna?"

"I'm fine," B'Elanna gasped, eyes closed. She could fly in her sleep. "Course locked in. Prepare to go to warp in three, two, one..."

* * * * *

"They're gone, Commander."

Tuvok, just emerged from the turbolift, stood perfectly still for a moment.

"Track them."

Harry left his place at the center and went to Cortez, moving her effortlessly out of the way.

"They've masked their warp signature, Commander," he answered, keeping the hysterical glee out of his voice only with some effort.

Tuvok, standing in the middle of the Bridge, didn't move.

"I'll inform the Captain. Ensign Kim, you have the Bridge."