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Chapter Text

Prologue

(The Past)

Kathryn Janeway leaned back in her chair and stared at her desk, the log she was working on forgotten for the moment.

Had it been just over a month since Commander Chakotay had been brainwashed by Riley to save her Borg colony?

The colony was an interesting development: Starfleet had thought a mass liberations of Borg-drones was impossible. Janeway chuckled bitterly. Too bad there was no way of telling Starfleet of their findings.

A beep from her computer reminded her of the open log.

"Computer, playback log."

"Stardate 50670.3," her recorded voice said, "Commander Chakotay, despite his reservations about the Eromeans, has again met with their ambassador. I am beginning to agree with his objections. After three days, we're no closer to obtaining permission to mine for dilithium on the seventh planet. The Commander's last message was over an hour ago..." Whatever she was going to add was lost as her combadge chirped.

"Captain," Ensign Kim said. "We are detecting weapon's fire in the capital." She stood quickly as he finished. "We have initiated return transport of the away team."

"Report!" Alarm klaxons punctuated Kathryn Janeway's demand as she strode out of her ready room onto Voyager's bridge.

"Sensors have detected three Eromean cruisers bearing one seven nine mark one three, heading directly toward us. Their weapons are powered and their shields are raised," Tuvok informed her as she made her way down to the command level of the bridge.

"They are not answering hails, Captain." Harry looked up from his console, watching her as she moved to stand behind Tom at the helm.

She glanced at Harry, nodded, then turned her attention to the main view screen. "On screen."

Three Eromean warships loomed on the main view screen. Kathryn watched as the three black ships approached, an involuntary shudder traveling down her spine.

"Ensign, is the entire away team aboard?" she asked without diverting her eyes from the main view screen.

Harry checked the transport log. "Negative, Captain. Commander Chakotay was not beamed back. It's possible that the Commander's comm badge has been damaged. Attempting to locate any human lifesigns."

"Captain, we will be in range of the Eromean ships in fifty two point three seconds." Kathryn glanced at Tuvok.

"Acknowledged, Mister Tuvok. Ensign, any luck yet?" she pressed, returning her attention back to the main view screen.

"No, Captain. Still scanning."

"Lieutenant Paris, prepare to go to warp seven on my mark."

"Aye, Captain." Tom guided his hands quickly and adeptly over the navigational console.

"Thirty nine point zero five seconds," stated Tuvok with dispassionate accuracy. "Captain..."

She once again turned to face her tactical officer, anticipating his forthcoming advice--advice that she didn't want to hear.

"No, Tuvok," she interrupted.

"Captain. we must consider..."

She shook her head, looking directly at him. "No. I'm not leaving him here. If we don't get him back now, we never will." Tuvok was right; Voyager was no match for the three Eromean cruisers bearing down on them. However, Chakotay was still planetside, in all probability very seriously injured. She could not abandon him or any of her crew--not if he was still alive. And she had to believe that he was. "Ready forward phaser array."

"I've found him, Captain!" Disquiet quickly overshadowed Harry's excitement. "Lifesigns are extremely faint. I almost missed him."

Bless you, Harry! Hang on, Chakotay. "Lock on to his coordinates, and beam him directly to Sickbay. Bridge to Sickbay. Commander Chakotay is being beamed directly to you. Notify me as soon as you have him."

"Acknowledged," replied the Doctor. Less than a second later came the words she so wanted to hear. "Sickbay to Bridge. We have him."

"Raise shields!" Kathryn pushed all thoughts she had of Chakotay to the back of her mind, ignoring the overwhelming urge to run to Sickbay. She couldn't afford to dwell on him, on his condition; right now she had to get Voyager to safety. "Mister Paris, get us out of here, warp seven."

"The Eromeans?" Janeway asked after Voyager jumped to warp, leaving the Eromeans behind.

Harry smiled with relief. "They are not pursuing us."

Finally, some good news, she thought as she tapped her combadge. "Janeway to Sickbay."

"This is the Doctor."

"What is Commander Chakotay's condition?"

"Commander Chakotay is unconscious. He was shot with some sort of projectile weapon in the abdomen and groin. Once we stabilize him, we will be operating."

Kathryn sank into her command chair. "I see." Her voiced dropped somewhat. "Thank you, Doctor. Keep me informed. Janeway out."

#

Chakotay knew he was dreaming, but he couldn't seem to wake himself up. The images crowding into his mind filled him with such complete horror that he felt physically ill, but he couldn't block them out. "Trefla, Trefla," the words repeated themselves over and over in whispered voices while the images of men and women writhing in agony were everywhere he looked.

Then the dream changed, and he seemed to be walking amongst them. Everywhere he went, they looked up at him with hatred in their eyes.

"You could have stopped this," a woman's voice called to him bitterly. "Why wouldn't you help us?"

He turned to where a woman sat on the ground. Her pox-covered face, full of open, oozing sores, almost hid the fractured remains of what could only be Borg implants. He involuntarily tapped the back of his own neck, where Riley had placed the neural link. Was this another example of her duplicity? The thought horrified him--he wanted to run away from the mysterious woman, from all things Borg. He started to turn away.

Then he noticed the baby she held in her arms. Its entire body was also covered with the oozing lesions. It was crying weakly; but was obviously so sick that it had little energy to do even that.

He knelt before the woman, forgetting his own fears. "I don't understand. How could I have prevented this?" He gestured with his hand as he looked around him. "Are you Borg?"

The woman looked at him skeptically. "How can you pretend to be ignorant? You know what has happened!"

Chakotay looked back at her. "Please, you must believe me, I don't know what you're talking about. If I could help, I would." He looked around and closed his eyes, trying to block out the sight of the tortured, twisted bodies. Chakotay opened his eyes and stared at her. "I don't even know who you are..." The vision started to blur and fade away.

"Do not worry. You will know when you see," a new, feminine voice said softly, it was familiar, yet not..

The last sound he heard was the woman's voice pleading with him. "Please, you are our only hope...our only hope...our only hope."

#

Chakotay opened his eyes with the echo of the woman's words ringing in his mind. He knew immediately where he was. His body hurt all over, but his mind was clear. He had to help the Treflans. He didn't know how--and he didn't know when--but he just knew.

Kes's hand rested on his forehead as she stared down at him. "Commander, you need to rest."

"I must help them." He struggled to get the words out.

"You will."

"I will," Chakotay closed his eyes as he attempted to remember the dream. "Trefla."

"Yes, the Trefla." Kes looked at him with a puzzled expression. "It was a dream."

"I don't even know who they are. But I must..." He felt the sensation of a hypospray on his neck.

"You need rest, Commander," Kes said with a whisper. She frowned as she straightened to an upright position. "Trefla...Liberty."

Chapter Text

Act 1

The Present

They jumped as a unit, the remnants of their severed link with the Collective still enough to communicate amongst themselves silently. The lone Borg drone fell under the fury of their attack.

There might have been a scream, but silence quickly returned as the first of the attacking ex-drones stood, holding the skin covered remains of an ocular implant. He smiled. Another stood holding yet another implant. Pox-covered faces surrounded the ripped-apart drone lying below.

Since they'd achieved their independence from the Collective, the freed drones had worked to separate--or destroy--those drones who were still intact. Finesse was not an option. If the drones survived having their implants removed, they were further removed from the Collective--otherwise, the dying drone was just one less threat to the freed.

"Take him to the medical bay," a voice called out from behind the group. A woman entered, her body covered with the same sores that infected all the freed drones of the cube. "We must stop this," she said calmly. The younger, one-eyed blonde woman beside her nodded.

"No, Yersa, we cannot stop," the tall leader of the group shouted. "They will reassimilate us." He started to cough.

Yersa held up her good hand. "Why are you doing this, Yith? So we can spread this plague to them? Doctor Miller says that ripping out the implants is causing the disease to spread. It must stop, or we will all die."

There was a snort as three of the group members, including Yith, walked away, but the remaining two helped carry the still twitching drone.

The medical bay was not impressive. Three humanoid males and one bald human female worked diligently with what equipment they had to treat the injured. The female ordered two of her helpers to the far corner, before she turned.

"This has got to stop!"

"I know," Yersa said sadly as she looked around the room. They'd lost another hundred drones yesterday--and it looked like a similar number would be lost today. "But try explaining that to them." She glanced at the blonde woman beside her and sighed. "Cretia, see if you can arrange another meeting with the others. They have not even been willing to meet."

"Assimilation is better than this." Dr. Miller shook her head as she did a visual examination of her newest patient. "He won't make it. Stick him over there."

"Assimilation is not better. Death while free is better than death as a mindless slave," Yersa retorted.

"Then do something to increase our chances of survival. If we can't save ourselves, what's the point?"

"Freedom, Doctor Miller. It's all about freedom." She started to cough. Doctor Miller led her over to a counter with a makeshift sink. "Spend your time with those patients you can help," Yersa said as the coughing subsided.

"You are the voice of sanity. They listen to you. You are the only one who can make them stop this madness."

Yersa shook her head. "They don't listen like they used to. Perhaps they will listen to the one you can save instead of me."

"Yersa, you are our best hope to convince them that they can't just rip out the implants. Bring the drones here. I can remove the implants aseptically. If they would stop destroying our supplies and equipment, we could survive this." Miller closed her eyes. "We cannot survive like this. Perhaps we could use your skills to convince them?"

Yersa bowed her head sadly. "The Xellam are a telepathic race, but my gifts are only slowly coming back to me." Their eyes met. "If I used telepathic skills to control the others, wouldn't I become just another Queen?"

"Damned if you do. Damned if you don't." Miller waved a hand to indicate the dying ex-drones surrounding them. "What choice do we have?"

"There is always another choice. We just have to find it." Yersa smiled as she felt a familiar tingle in her head. "Or perhaps help will find us."

Doctor Miller's eyes opened wide. "The ship you dreamed about?"

"Yes." Yersa had tried to use her telepathy skills many times to request help from any passing ships, but she had been unsuccessful until one night, just a few days ago, when a kindly presence had guided her on her quest.

But to her bitter disappointment, the ship she'd contacted had been in the past.

"Yersa! There's a ship on the scanners!" She glanced across the room and saw one of the crew waving at her. She placed a hand on Dr. Miller's shoulder.

"I'll be fine." She knew better--and she knew Miller knew better. Yet, she felt the spirit's presence and wondered.

#

"What the...?" Captain Kathryn Janeway's voice trailed off as she stepped onto the bridge and saw the image on the screen.

The giant cube looked dead or dying: large gaping holes covered the surface. She glanced quickly at Harry. "What's the cube's status, Lieutenant?"

"Sensors show fewer than twenty-three-thousand life signs on board. There is too much interference for the sensors to give a precise count."

"Weapon status?"

Harry shook his head as he finished his report. "The cube has minimal weapons--and even those are questionable."

She nodded as she moved to the command chair. "Maintain red alert." She tapped her combadge. "Janeway to Seven of Nine."

"I am studying the sensor scans," Seven's voice said. "There should be over a hundred thousand drones on a vessel that size."

Definitely something wrong, Kathryn decided. Possibly something like what happened to the ship Icheb and the other children had been rescued from--or...

"Modify the sensors to detect the virus we introduced to the Borg, and scan for other Borg ships. I want continuous monitoring of all known Borg frequencies, too." She wondered if the Borg Queen could think in terms of baiting a trap with a severely damaged ship.

"Captain, we're being hailed." She didn't glance behind her as the rest of her command staff arrived. The crippled interior of the cube appeared on the screen. She tried not to stare at the grotesque sores on the woman who appeared.

"I'm Yersa, of the Trefla." The woman's eyes focused on Chakotay. "May the ancestors be praised, you've come."

"I'm Captain Janeway. How may we be of assistance?" She couldn't help but wonder how Yersa could be expecting them.

"Now that you are here, we need supplies and medicine. We especially need medical help." Yersa glanced at Janeway, then returned her focus to Chakotay. Janeway wondered at the puzzled look on her First Officer's face. He shrugged when he noticed her scrutiny. Janeway shook her head; somehow Yersa and Chakotay seemed to know each other. She would search for the answer later, but right now she needed to deal with the Trefla. Yersa must have seen the interchange, for she brought her attention back to Janeway. "Captain Janeway, whatever assistance you can offer will be appreciated."

Janeway decided to send only the Doctor. She wasn't sure about sending any of her crew until she knew they would be safe. "Our Doctor will beam over to make a medical assessment." And to see what supplies Yersa and company needed. Voyager's own supplies were limited.

"Thank you." Yersa's smile barely carried through the sores on her face.

#

Voyager's Emergency Medical Hologram glanced around the Borg ship, amazed at the amount of damage he saw. It looked like the ship was being systematically torn apart. He used the tricorder to analyze the partially destroyed regeneration chambers he passed.

"Hello," a voice said from behind him. "Welcome to the Trefla." He turned to face a young human woman, in her mid-twenties. She might have been pretty, except for the sores covering her face, and the fact she was missing her left eye. What was left of her Borg armor was riddled with holes and cracks. "I'm Cretia Finney."

"Hello, Cretia," the doctor responded. He scanned her with his tricorder. A large number of bacteria, other microscopic organisms, and several viruses had infected her. None were the virus he'd created. At least not in her. Those viruses were on the ship--and were somehow responsible for the ship becoming disconnected from the Collective. "Are all the crew members like this?" He continued to analyze the data coming from his tricorder. As a physician, he had to help them.

She nodded. "The de-assimilation process is rough." He again wondered at the lack of an eye and the number of inoperative nanoprobes in her system.

"What do they do, rip out all the Borg implants?"

She nodded again. "It is effective. The Medical Bay is this way."

He followed, noting that the tricorder showed she still maintained a few Borg implants. "Yet, you still have..."

She stopped. "Shhh. They are removing the external implants." She indicated her eye. "They will eventually try to remove the internal ones...they will kill us all."

"But even with the implants, you would still be individuals. We have freed several drones and we have met a colony that managed to free themselves before...Well," he decided that this was most likely not a good place to tell Riley's story. "The implants do not hinder individuality, and they keep you alive and healthy."

"They are Borg." She spread her hands slightly.

"But why? Don't you understand that this could kill you? That your nanoprobes could save you?" He again looked at his tricorder. Most of her nanoprobes were inactive. It was also obvious that she had not regenerated for a long time. Too long, maybe. The nanoprobes were dying.

"They fear reassimilation more than they fear dying." Cretia motioned for him to follow her.

"And how many hours do you spend regenerating?" He expected her answer.

"Doctor, look around. They've taken to destroying the regeneration units. There are less than two-dozen working chambers left."

"They?" The Doctor shook his head in frustration, even as he began to process the data the tricorder gave him. Treating the infection wouldn't be difficult; however, repairing the damage would take a monstrous effort on his part and his able staff.

"Those who want nothing to do with anything Borg." She glanced around. "They've even tried to destroy the ship." She pointed to the armed guard who stood outside the medical bay. "We have to protect vital systems now."

"And what do you want?"

He supposed she smiled sadly, it was hard to tell. "I want to live." They passed another row of destroyed regeneration units.

"How long ago were you freed?"

"How long since we lost our connection to the Borg?" She puzzled over this a second. "A few, like Yersa, found themselves freed from the Collective about six months ago. She and the others freed the rest of us. The disease first appeared soon afterwards."

His eyes opened wide as they stepped into the medical bay. Six months ago was about when they'd introduced the virus into the Collective. It had to be more than a coincidence--someone--Yersa maybe--had been a member of Unimatrix Zero. But this wasn't the end result he'd planned on.

But then, perhaps he should have expected such an outcome. As the former drones had no concept of anything but total control, the sudden freedom would be strange, scary. No wonder anarchy ruled here. He wondered how they'd survived six months.

"Hello, I'm Doctor Miller." The tall, older woman shook his hand. Like the others in the medical bay, she was marked by the same plague that afflicted Cretia.

"This is terrible," he said.

"I know," Miller said angrily. "We lose over one hundred patients a day."

"One hundred?" The figure was appalling. A quick glance around the large hall showed that there were at least five times that number lying on the floor.

She shook her head. "We've tried to save them, but we're all dying." She held up her left hand. The fingers were gone. He scanned her quickly with a tricorder, then moved to the first patient.

"You need to repair the regeneration units. And if we could reintroduce viable nanoprobes..." To himself he added, 'even Seven still needs to regenerate at least once a week...'

"No!" Sanit, a blue-green humanoid, staggered in front of the Doctor. "We will not allow ourselves to be saved by anything Borg."

"Then you are a fool," the Doctor said. "The Borg systems can help maintain your health. Voyager has drones freed from the Collective. And their health is excellent." The blue-green male glared at him, but the Doctor continued to examine the patients. "Do you have any antibiotics?"

Dr. Miller shook her head. "This idiot destroyed our replicator units."

Sanit snarled, "We must leave nothing that can be used to contact the Collective or reassimilate us."

"At this point, I don't think they'd want you," the Doctor said as he finished his scans. "Is everyone on board...disconnected?"

Miller glared at Sanit. "We are, I believe, all disconnected from the Collective, but a few still retain all their implants. There aren't many and they usually stay away. Most are found in the lower levels. Ehop'n here, along with his leader, Yith, have terrified them to the point that they rarely leave their hideaways. Those who tried to join us were destroyed. They don't bother with us, except to defend their regeneration units." She sighed. "They are also dying. Just not as quickly."

"We need to destroy all Borg..." Sanit started coughing so violently, he was unable to finish his thought. Miller helped him lie down, then returned to the Doctor.

"Over soon? You can't just let them die!" The Doctor stared at her, aghast at her words.

"I have no choice. We have no medicine, little food and even less water," Miller said angrily. "We try to make their last hours as comfortable as possible."

"I'll see what we can do." He tapped his combadge. "Doctor to Voyager."

"Yes, Doctor?" Janeway's voice asked.

"They are dying. I am going to need a medical team and unlimited access to the replicators if I am going to be able to save them."

"Understood. What do you need?"

"I'm Doctor Eugenie Miller," Doctor Miller cut in. "Food, water, medicine, clothes, blankets," "You name it, we need it.

"I'll see what we can do. Can we safely send an away team?" Captain Janeway asked.

"I would like to prepare a vaccine for all crew members--just as an appropriate preventative measure. Treating the infection isn't the problem," the Doctor said. "I shall transport back to Voyager in ten minutes. In the meantime, they are in desperate need of water and food."

Janeway nodded. "Doctor Miller, what happened?"

"It's really a long tale, Captain." The female doctor glanced over her shoulder. "Yersa should tell you our story." She motioned for someone to join them. The female who'd originally contacted them appeared.

"I wish to thank you," Yersa started to cough violently. She pushed Miller's helping hand away. "About six months ago some of us were suddenly disconnected from the Collective. We managed to sever our link completely, then started to de-assimilate the other drones on the ship. Back then we were able to cooperate amongst ourselves, find food, even find help from those whom the word Borg did not terrify. Originally all we did was destroy the neural link. Then somewhere along the line, we found it easier to rip out the implants. May my ancestors forgive me, I also once believed this was the best way."

"Then the epidemic began," Doctor Miller continued when Yersa started coughing again. The EMH scanned Yersa. "At first it was treatable; our nanoprobes were able to keep us healthy. Then about three months ago, we tried to ask for help from species 3621--the Cabal. We were refused; and they attacked us. The radiation from their weapons accelerated the disease while it weakened us. The nanoprobes were also affected. Since then--" She motioned toward her face. "This past week we've only lost a hundred a day. The death toll has been as high as a thousand a day."

Janeway grimaced. "Doctor Miller, our own supplies are limited, but we will offer what we can."

"Captain," the EMH interjected, "I'd like to request that Icheb help me. His skills in bioengineering and genetics will be very useful."

"I'll inform him."

"I've transmitted the data to sickbay. I can treat the infection, but we don't have the resources to repair the damage." He glanced around the medical bay. The logistics of administering the antibiotics alone would be daunting.

Dr. Miller looked away. "I feel helpless. What little I had to help my people was destroyed because it was Borg."

"Well," he whispered after making sure that no one was nearby. "Icheb and Seven are both former Borg, so you will be saved by Borg help."

"Just don't let anyone know," Cretia said. The EMH turned to face her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sneak up on you. I've spoken to Yith. He's agreed to meet with Yersa and Voyager's Doctor. I'm to arrange a time." She smiled at the Doctor. "Just don't mention that you have any Borg on Voyager."

"Who is this Yith?" The EMH asked.

"He is a Toscarian and one of the leaders of the anti-Borg faction."

"We are willing to help..."

"And he's willing to kill." Cretia shook her head. "Don't trust him, because he surely won't trust you."

"Well," the EMH said, "perhaps we should trust him, so he will trust us."

"Doctor," Cretia said, then shook her head. "You just don't understand our situation here. We were Borg. The Queen will not let us go so easily. Yith believes that only by eliminating everything Borg can we truly be free."

#

Chakotay stared at the akoonah in front of him, thinking of the Trefla and Yersa. Somehow she had recognized him, and as he stood on the bridge he had recalled a dream: a barely remembered dream. The images flitted about in his mind, but he could only truly remember the word Trefla and Yersa's face. And someone else, someone ethereal, yet familiar.

He closed his eyes as he placed his hand on the akoonah, hoping to return to that dream from long ago. A sharp sound interrupted any chance to contact his spirit guide. He tapped his combadge. "Chakotay here."

"Commander," Harry's voice said, "The Doctor has returned to Voyager. He wants to meet with the senior staff immediately."

Chakotay gathered his medicine bundle, then stood and grabbed his jacket as he acknowledged the request.

#

Chakotay stood next to Janeway as they waited for the Doctor to arrive. "It's pretty bad," she whispered. "The Doctor thinks our virus is what initially severed their link to the Collective. This isn't what we'd planned to happen."

He replied in an equally quiet voice. "We only found a way to break their link. The Treflans made the choice to continue destroying all things Borg--they knew the consequences. But with hindsight, perhaps we should have known that freedom would not be easy for former drones."

"So we should not have done anything at all? I felt then, and still feel now, that we had an obligation to help them break free of the Collective." She sighed. "Just as we have an obligation to try to help them now, even though we can't possibly give them all of the help they need."

"I know. We all know. We'll offer what we can." He smiled at her.

She took a deep breath. "The numbers of dead and dying are horrific, but the Doctor is confident he has found the cure."

Chakotay nodded. The Doctor was always confident he could find an answer--and he usually did.

"The Doctor is preparing a vaccine against this plague for the crew. I'll lead the first team."

"I'll lead the first team," Chakotay countered. "It's my duty to lead away missions and to protect the ship's captain from any potentially hazardous situations." Even if he had to protect her from herself, he added to himself.

"Commander, this subject is not open to debate."

He grinned at her. "Excellent, Captain. I'm glad you see it my way." He walked away quickly to where Tom and B'Elanna were standing, pleased that for once he'd managed to get the last word in.

#

"The infection rate of those who have been de-assimilated is one-hundred percent," the Doctor said as he concluded his opening remarks. "Icheb is preparing the antibiotics. The most effective method of dispersion is to use the environmental controls. Dr. Miller and Yersa have agreed to this. As to treating the damage...Since the most effective treatment, nanoprobes, is out of the question, Icheb and I are working to determine any alternatives. The damage from their de-assimilation process is extensive. They are destroying themselves. Many have missing eyes and fingers. Some have missing limbs." He glanced at Seven. "And most have not regenerated in weeks or longer."

"Doctor, we just don't have the resources..." Janeway started to say.

He cut her off. "We don't. But, while they have destroyed most of the regeneration chambers and other equipment--the damage may only be superficial."

B'Elanna nodded. "I've looked through the Doctor's report, and I believe he is correct. Most of the internal structure and wiring may still be intact. Permission to beam over?" The entire staff looked at her and Tom.

"I don't believe that would be wise," the Doctor said. "Lieutenant, you are four months pregnant. While the vaccine I am perfecting will be effective, I don't know if it will protect your baby. And Lieutenant Torres, do I need to remind you, the same reasoning is behind my refusal to inoculate you with the anti-assimilation vaccine?"

She grimaced, while Tom smiled his thanks.

Janeway raised her hand. "We'll send three teams--five people each. Commander Chakotay will have overall command, the Doctor and Lieutenant Carey will accompany him, along with a team of engineers and security. I want everyone monitored at all times for any sign of infection. Meet in transporter room one in an hour."

Chapter Text

Act 2

"Captain."

"Commander?" He'd expected the formal tones of her voice, but he wasn't going to argue. He'd won this round, and she was not pleased.

"The Trefla." He grimaced as remembered something. "I know the name from something. A dream long ago. We were negotiating with the Eromeans. You remember?"

"The Eromeans." She placed a hand on his arm. "You were in and out of a coma for four days."

"I had the strangest dream." He nodded toward the viewport. "At least I'd always thought it was a dream. In fact, until I saw Yersa on that ship, I'd almost forgotten it."

"Yes, I vaguely recall Kes telling me something about your dream. But that was four years ago..."

"I know. Don't ask, because I don't know how any of this is possible, but Yersa was in my dream. I'm sure it was her."

She smiled at him. "Kes sensed some of your vision. She asked me to help the Trefla. Though someday you'll have to explain the time discrepancy."

"I will when I figure it out myself. I promised I would help them." His voice faded.

She placed her hand on his arm. "And we shall help them."

He smiled as he took her hand in his. She pulled her hand away without looking at him. "You need to get going. I expect hourly reports. If there's any chance of our people becoming sick, we'll beam them out."

"Very good, Captain." He smiled at her.

"And our newest crewmembers?"

"Both Cadet Icheb and Cadet Wildman have been assigned duties. Naomi has requested a secondary posting to the medical bay."

"Interesting," Janeway said with a raised eyebrow.

"Naomi apparently feels she needs more practical experience." Chakotay winked. Janeway chuckled, as he continued. "Has Seven said anything about the commission you offered?

"No. Or rather not yet. I don't understand her hesitancy. She's already in charge of Astrometrics. Giving her the rank of Lieutenant j.g. is just a formality."

Chakotay shrugged. "It's a big step. She'll come around."

"I hope so," she responded. Seven had the potential to be a very good officer, Chakotay admitted to himself--especially once she learned how to obey commands. "Don't you have a mission?"

"Aye, Captain." He winked. "Perhaps you'll have the carpets cleaned?"

She hit his arm playfully as she laughed. "That's your job, Mister. Now get out of here before I change my mind." Chakotay walked quickly down the door.

She watched him leave, then stared out the transparisteel viewport at the listless cube beside them.

#

"Seven," Chakotay said after Seven stated her request to join his team, "it's not safe for you on the Trefla." He had to admit in her blue uniform, the future lieutenant j.g. looked professional. It was somehow still difficult for him to contemplate the former Borg as a Starfleet officer.

"Commander, the Doctor has assured me that the vaccine will protect me against the plague."

"I'm talking about those on the cube who would rather rip you apart."

"You need someone healthy who is familiar with the workings of a Borg cube. Captain Janeway suggested I ask to join your away team."

Chakotay hesitated. She had an excellent point. Seven's knowledge about the workings of a Borg cube would be very useful.

"Very well." He glanced at Ayala. "Lieutenant. I want a security officer with her at all times."

"Very good, sir." Ayala quickly notified the young crewman on his right of his new duties.

#

Chakotay had read the reports and seen the images, but he nearly vomited at the sight and smell of the medical bay. He noticed most of the away team members were also pale.

"I'm Doctor Miller," the approaching bald woman said. "I can't begin to tell you how grateful we are for your help."

"Then we should get started." Chakotay hoped getting to work would help calm his stomach. "Lieutenant Carey and..."

"BORG!" someone shouted. The team members glanced around quickly.

"Yith, lie down," Miller said. "You need to rest."

"She's Borg!" Yith replied. He collapsed as he tried to stand up.

Chakotay glanced at Seven then at the hundreds of patients lying around him. "Seven was freed from the Collective over three years ago. Since that time she has been instrumental in helping us beat the Collective several times."

"She might be better off on Voyager," Dr. Miller said. "Yith's attitude is shared by many."

"No," Seven said. "I have to help." Chakotay stared at her for a second, but Seven didn't say anything more.

"She is here to help restore the ship so that it can support you." He glanced back at the patients. "I know that for many of you, anything Borg is evil. I understand how you feel, but you must decide if you want to live or die." He returned his attention to Miller. "Dr. Miller, our own doctor will transport over in a few minutes with his team. He will assist you in dispersing the antibiotics. Now, we'll get to work." He ordered the engineering team to follow Seven to the central processing unit. They needed to know how damaged that was before they could determine how much of the ship could be saved.

Miller smiled. "Thank you. There is someone who would like to meet you."

"Yersa?" He wondered again about the barely-remembered dream from so long ago.

"Yes." Miller motioned for him to follow her. Yersa opened her eyes as they approached.

Chakotay knelt down by the prone figure on the floor. "Yersa, I came. I promised I would."

"I knew you would," she choked out. "You are a good person. The spirit was right."

"Spirit?"

"The one who guided me to you." He could barely hear her voice. "I'm a telepath, but for days I couldn't contact anyone. The spirit told me you would help, despite the fact you were in the past." Her eyes closed. He stood slowly.

"She tried too hard to bring the Trefla back to some semblance of sanity," Miller said.

"She's dying?"

"We all are, unless you can help us. I fear what will happen when she dies. Yith and his allies would rather die than associate with anything Borg. They'll kill us all."

"How many dissidents are there?"

"No one knows for sure. A hundred, maybe a thousand. Your Seven had better be careful." She raised her hand. "Ahh, Cretia. This is Commander Chakotay."

The new arrival smiled at him. "I'm Cretia Finney. I work with Yersa." She glanced at Doctor Miller. "I can't find any of Yith's people. Since he collapsed, they've vanished."

"Cretia had arranged a meeting between Yith, Yersa and your doctor," Dr. Miller explained.

"I see. Any chance..."

"Not with Yith's people. At least, not right now." Cretia placed a hand on Chakotay's arm. "But the governing body would like to meet with you."

"There is a government?"

"Not really," Cretia said as they started to wend their way through the many patients. "It has no real power. No one wants to make any real decisions. They provide support to protect vital systems, but that's all."

"Vital systems?"

"Environmental systems, replicators--except those were destroyed three point two weeks ago. Yith's followers have since targeted internal sensors and the main controls. We've barely managed to maintain a security force. I fear the government will fall apart without Yersa. She's the only one both sides trusted."

"She's not dead yet." Chakotay hoped that the antibiotics would be enough to save her, that it wasn't too late. "Our Doctor is providing antibiotics. He's..."

Cretia shook her head. "Once the coughing begins, death happens within hours."

"And you will continue to try to find Yith's people?" Chakotay brought the conversation back to what needed to be done.

"Of course, Commander Chakotay. With their cooperation, perhaps we can end this chaos and destruction."

#

Neelix frowned as he beamed over to the Trefla. He'd volunteered to help with the supplies and medical supplies. Glancing around the Borg medical bay, he gagged, remembering the devastation of his own home, Rinax, many years ago.

"Mister Neelix," the Doctor said. "If you're going to be sick all over the place, I shall arrange for you to be transported back to Voyager."

"I'll be fine," Neelix said. He forced himself to concentrate on helping the patients and not what they looked and smelled like. He pulled out his tricorder as he knelt beside a small humanoid alien.

The pale green alien grunted and groaned, but didn't open his eyes.

Neelix wished he truly believed that they would be able to save everyone as he turned to scan the next patient. He stared at her for a second, then placed his fingers on her neck. He shook his head sadly as the tricorder told him what he already knew.

"So much waste and sadness," a voice said from behind him.

"Yes, it is." Neelix glanced behind him as he stood. "I'm Neelix. You're..."

"I am Sarexa." The Talaxian female frowned at him. Neelix smiled, he hadn't seen a fellow Talaxian in too long. Her expression remained guarded as he stood.

"You're a long way from home," he said.

"I have no memories of Talaxia. Your Doctor said you were a cook?"

Neelix nodded. "I'm cook, morale officer, ambassador, agriculturist...medical assistant."

"He suggested that we talk with you about feeding the survivors. Any ideas?"

Cooking for about 150 had been challenging, but he'd never tried cooking for over 200 times that amount. He again glanced around the medical bay, then at the very skinny Talaxian female in front of him. "We have to keep the meals simple, a broth maybe. What food stuffs do you have?"

"A few containers, it's not much."

"And replicators?"

"Damaged, though perhaps not beyond repair. Your engineer seems to think they may be repairable."

"Excellent, excellent." He quickly calculated just how much food stuff he would need. "But perhaps we should inject you first?" He held up the hypospray. She took two steps back, a look of panic on her face.

"Is it Borg?"

"No, it's Starfleet technology. It's just some basic minerals and vitamins."

"Good." She bent her neck so he could administer the medication. "Now, I shall take you to our replicators."

#

Icheb glanced quickly at the sickbay door as it opened. The visitor was Naomi. "I'm sorry." He'd forgotten about their study session.

"That's OK," she replied. "You're busy. Any luck?"

He shook his head. "Not really."

"Can I help?"

As much as he enjoyed her company, Icheb didn't want her exposed to the pathogens. The Doctor had inoculated him against the plague, and he was working behind a level 10 bio-force field. He noticed her annoyed look. He wondered how he'd upset her this time. "I have had to neglect my duties in Astrometrics."

She smiled at him. "Sure thing. You're still trying to incorporate the Zornon tech that Lieutenant Torres was working on?"

"The polar divergence is too great." He entered some numbers into his PADD. The Zornon tech was one of several projects he'd had to neglect recently.

She chuckled. "Icheb, you could just say it doesn't fit."

He grinned at her. "It's more complicated than that."

"I'll see what I can do."

He heard her mumble something else as she left. The numbers didn't show much promise. Icheb stared at them a second, then contacted the EMH over on the Trefla.

The Doctor responded quickly, and Icheb explained the negative results. Without using the nanoprobes, there weren't many expedient ways to generate new tissue. There was a silence, then the Doctor spoke. "I expected this. Access the databank on the Vidiians. File name Pel. I've never fully indexed it. She once assisted us with another medical mystery."

Icheb nodded. He didn't know the file or the name Pel, but he did know about the Vidiians. Perhaps Naomi could help him with this project. The Doctor continued speaking. "The Vidiians did some remarkable medical research--for the wrong reasons. They have extensive knowledge on tissue and organ transplants and repair."

Icheb activated the computer. The Pel file was extensive. It would be hours to just skim through it. He tapped his combadge. "Icheb to Naomi. I could use your help after all."

#

"Commander Chakotay," the Vulcan Sakat said, as they walked away from the other seven members of the Treflan council. "We wish to thank you and your captain for helping us."

"You understand we can cure the plague, but at this moment, we can't do anything about the damage the plague caused. At least not without Borg technology to repair and regenerate the damaged limbs and skin. You must restore the regeneration chambers and stop ripping out implants."

Sakat shook his head, before responding. "We understand this all too well." He emphasized the word 'we'. "It is others who let fear rule them."

"They have reason to fear the Collective," Cretia said. "Even Yersa thought this was true."

"Yersa understands their fear," Sakat said quietly, "and she wants them to move past their fears."

"There is a real good reason for that fear," Cretia retorted.

Chakotay listened carefully. It seemed to be an old discussion. "Have you tried reason? Perhaps even guidelines or laws?"

"We have tried," Cretia said as she placed her hand on Chakotay's arm. "But Yersa is correct, we were forced to be Borg--some are leery of any rules."

"Or anything Borg," Chakotay shuddered involuntarily. He took a step away from Cretia, her hand fell to her side. "And Yersa?"

Cretia shook her head sadly. "Her eventual death will leave a void many will try to fill. It's something the council has debated."

"I understand. We can help you with saving your people, but we can't put together a government for you."

Cretia frowned as she again placed a hand on his wrist. "Yersa and Sakat believe we cannot replace the control of the Collective with a dictatorship."

"And what do you believe?" Chakotay asked.

"We have to save ourselves. We must do what it takes." She held up both hands, showing the damaged fingers. "Look at this. This is no way to live."

"There are many different beliefs as to what kind of government would work best," Sakat said. "There are those who support a dictatorship and those who believe in anarchy. And even some who want to reactivate our neural links to create a common consciousness. They believe that only order and control will keep us alive."

Chakotay grimaced at the memory the Vulcan's words produced. Riley Frazier had also believed that reestablishing the Collective link was the only way. He briefly wondered if they had found the order and peace she'd craved, or if the real Borg Collective had found them. He quickly pushed that memory away when Sakat motioned toward another an aisle.

"And the greatest tragedy," Sakat said, "Is that we can't save ourselves." They started walking across a catwalk.

Chakotay stared at the pile of corpses. Cretia turned away. "We couldn't save them," she whispered. "They're all dead. And we will be soon." She closed her eyes and started to cry. Chakotay hesitated, then placed an arm around her.

"We'll do our best." Chakotay tried to keep the revulsion from his face as an unbidden thought entered his mind. They had to help these people survive.

"And if you can't?" She whispered between her tears as she leaned against him. When he pulled back quickly and removed his arm, she straightened up and looked at him. "I am sorry. I did not mean to cause you discomfort." Her voice was calm, but something caused him to take another step back.

#

B'Elanna snarled something in Klingon as she closed the link and turned to find the nearest victim. There was no one in sight. This brought another round of snarling. Her crew had learned during the past few months to disappear when she was in a bad mood.

She was stuck on Voyager, having to listen to second-hand reports about progress from the Trefla. Carey was convinced they could restore the central core. She reached for her combadge. "Torres to Carey."

"Yes, Lieutenant?" There was perhaps the barest hint of annoyance in his voice.

"Did you confirm that the primary circuit nodes are shut down?"

"Yes, Lieutenant. Seven is here."

"Very good. Torres out." She again closed the link. She knew she should be pleased with the competency of her crew. She tapped her combadge again.

"Torres to Carey."

"Lieutenant Carey here. Yes, Lieutenant, we have been able to download the data you requested."

For some reason she laughed at his answer to her unasked question. "Thank you."

"I'll transmit it to you when I have a chance."

"Very good. I'll leave you to it."

She imagined him muttering something about if she would stop contacting him, he would get some work done. She now had to sit in her office and wait for that information.

"Ensign Vorik!" She stood slowly. "How are the recalibration tests going?"

"They are progressing as expected," Vorik responded from the catwalk.

She grabbed her PADD; her shift was over, and she was hungry. She started to walk toward the double doors. "I'll be in the mess hall." She had an urge for a leola root casserole. Or maybe even pickled leola root.

Chapter Text

Act 3

Cretia slipped into the shadows at the sound of approaching footsteps. A second later two of the Trefla's former drones appeared. She pulled her hood over her head before stepping forward.

"You contacted us," the lead ex-drone, Nelem said. The late Yith's assistant stood about half a meter taller than Cretia.

"Yes, Voyager is using Borg technology to save us."

The furious growl was exactly what she expected. "We can't let them use the tech. If we could capture their ship, those who wish to truly be free of all things Borg could escape."

"I have studied their defenses. I have been able to scan their ship when we were testing the repairs. Here is the information you will need." Nelem reached out for the multiplex processor. Cretia smiled, then slipped back into the shadows. Nelem would do exactly what he needed to do. They would soon leave the Trefla and be free. And safe. Voyager would be the source of medical supplies, food, and the chance for a better life.

Cretia smiled as she watched Nelem leave. Nelem didn't need to know about the Borg tech incorporated into Voyager.

#

Harry smiled as his friend entered the mess hall, then waved. B'Elanna acknowledged his invitation then stared at the meal offerings. Harry was scheduled to beam over to the Trefla in an hour to relieve Lieutenant Carey.

"This must be when she is calmer," Jenny Delaney said as she stopped at his table. "She isn't tearing my poor sister apart over the menu choices. And I hear she has Joe doing some strange project on the Trefla."

Harry smiled as he motioned for Jenny to sit. "Really? Most interesting." He was beginning to have a good idea exactly what B'Elanna's project was.

"What's she working on? Somehow I don't think it's related to this Olympics of Neelix's."

"Hope," he whispered. He spoke in his normal tone for the next sentence. "Did you hear they've postponed the games again?"

She laughed. "Low supplies and..." Her voice grew more somber. "And now the Borg. We should never have gotten involved."

"Jenny, you've seen the Trefla."

She shook her head. "And we're not responsible. But I know..." They both glanced at the food counter. B'Elanna was arguing with Megan Delaney. "I'd better go help, or Megan will have me cleaning the floors."

"Well, you are the one who volunteered to take Neelix's place today."

"And I'll never complain about leola root stew again."

"Maybe Neelix will find enough to make some. Just for you." Harry placed his fork on the tray. "Any ideas what happened to his supply?"

"I hear Icheb was responsible." Jenny stood as he spoke.

"That's what I've heard. I'm sorry, but..." Again they both looked toward the counter. "My sister will never make it without me." B'Elanna was still standing in the line.

"I'll come with you." Harry was curious at why B'Elanna was holding up the line.

"There's no leola root casserole," B'Elanna said when he stopped at her side. "I wanted leola root." Harry smiled as he remembered his older cousin's pregnancy years earlier.

"Would a pickle do?"

She grimaced. "Maybe I'll replicate a casserole." Harry shrugged at the next person in the line.

"How's your project coming?" Harry asked her as they walked over to the replicator.

"Icheb is trying to incorporate the Zornon data for the cloak. One leola root casserole." She growled the last to the replicator. "At least that's what he thinks he's doing." The dish shimmered into existence.

"Not that one. I was helping him the other day. I mean Hope."

"Harry, it's still just a dream."

"But a good one."

She motioned toward the port window. "Dreams can be tricky. We dreamed of freeing the Borg." She took a bite of the casserole. "Don't dream too much." She hesitated. "Take a look at the polymeric frequency of the Zornon cloak." She shoved her PADD over to him. He took it and looked at the data.

"I don't see..."

B'Elanna laughed. "Harry, Harry, Harry. It's obvious."

Obvious to brilliant engineers maybe, but Harry didn't see anything significant. He scrolled through the series of formulas and calculations again.

And again.

#

"Harry, I'm sure glad to see you," Joe Carey said. "I'm looking forward to a hot bath and a long nap."

"So, is this before or after you talk to B'Elanna?"

"Oh, please! I've talked to her every hour all day." Carey rolled his eyes. "I've sent her every conceivable piece of data on all things Borg." He glanced about. "What is she working on?"

"I don't know," Harry said cautiously. B'Elanna would tell them when she was ready.

"Harry, she's been asking about transwarp, transwarp coils, shielding, navigation. There's only one thing she could be working on."

"Keep it to yourself, for the moment." Harry wondered how many of the crew had guessed what B'Elanna's project was.

"So she has told you."

Harry shook his heads. "No, but like you, I've guessed. She's working on hope." He glanced around. "And what have you been working on?"

"Right now we've started working on repairing the next bank of regenerators. Seven is working on the regeneration chambers. She requested to remain on the Trefla instead of being relieved." Joe shrugged. "Stubborn woman. Good luck."

"I hope I don't need it," Harry watched as Joe vanished, and turned his attention toward the Borg controls.

#

Seven glanced at her security guard, then turned back to the data streaming into the primary console. She allowed herself a brief smile. The cube's diagnostic systems were once again working. Her frown returned as she noticed that there was still no response from Axum. She resent her message. "Crewman Brannon, once I am finished here, I shall be joining Lieutenant Kim in the central core." The guard nodded as she continued speaking. "I need you to check the secondary processors when I restore power." She motioned toward another console about twenty meters away. "If the console activates, I shall have been successful."

"Yes, Ma'am," he said, "And if you're not successful?"

"Jump out of the way." Seven turned her attention back to the data as she waited for the crewman to leave. She concentrated on the screen as she entered the information. The screen flickered. She grimaced, and this time she activated the secondary nodes.

"It's working!" Brannon called.

Seven tapped her combadge. "Seven to Lieutenant Kim, the secondary systems are now operational."

"Very good," Kim's voice said. "That means we're now ready to activate the regenerators."

She glanced at her console and entered a series of codes. She'd sent a message several hours ago to Axum. But there was still no response to her message. With all the turmoil in the Collective, she shouldn't be surprised that Axum had not yet received her message.

If he was even alive to receive it.

#

"Nanoprobes," Naomi said as she rubbed her eyes. They'd been at this for six hours, and her eyes hurt.

"Huh?" Icheb looked up from the report and stared at her.

"Nanoprobes. Icheb, there's no choice. The Vidiians have a wealth of information on tissue grafts and regeneration techniques. But they all require donors and time. We can't do this without nanoprobes."

"But the Treflans are not willing to use anything Borg."

"Then it's their folly." She shut off her PADD. "There isn't anything in here we can use, morally, ethically, or otherwise. So, what about using nanoprobes?" she asked again.

"We would have to convince them..."

Naomi didn't understand why anyone would turn down the medicine that would save their lives--but that was exactly the problem. "So, we'll convince them."

"It's not that easy. They are so terrified about being reassimilated, they are destroying all things Borg. They fear that no matter how much we've modified the nanoprobes, the Queen could still regain control of their minds. We need to assure the Treflans that there is no way this can happen."

"Like what you were trying to do with the virus?"

He nodded slowly. "I suppose so. I was trying..." He leaned over and kissed her quickly on the cheek. "Naomi, you're a genius." He bolted out of the room.

She stared at the closed door as she touched her cheek. "I'm a genius? Why...thank you."

#

Neelix stared at the cavernous space with a growing appreciation of just how big a Borg cube truly was. The cube once held over a hundred thousand drones and could easily have held more. Much more. And so much of it was no longer needed.

"I do not understand why you wish to see this area," Sarexa said.

Neelix nodded. "It's perfect. It will take a lot of work on your part, but it is feasible."

"What is?" Sarexa asked with a slow shake of her head.

"The space. There is more than enough. I'm sure Captain Janeway will allow me to share our information on..." He shrugged. "But then, you probably already have the information."

"Neelix, you are not making any sense," Sarexa said.

"Oh. I'm sorry, I guess I'm not. We can convert large spaces like this to airponic and hydroponic gardens. Like the ones we have on Voyager, only much larger." He entered a few more numbers into his PADD. "This space in particular can come close to supplying your basic needs within a year or maybe even less time. Leola root would be perfect..." A fast growing crop, rich in nutrients, and easy to care for, it would have been perfect, except his had mutated or something. They no longer grew well in his gardens. He once again considered asking Icheb help him correct the mutation.

"I remember my mother's leola root pie," Sarexa said. "You have roots? Perhaps you can make me a pie?"

"Do you remember her recipe?" Neelix asked. The few tubers he had left would barely be enough to boil down to make the filling.

"No. I have very faint memories of home. I was captured quite young." She stared out at the cavern. "It will take a year for the gardens to grow?" she asked sadly.

"Or less. You'll have to dismantle much of the unnecessary equipment. Most of it can be recycled into the garden--or rather farm."

"I don't want to stay here another year. I don't want to stay on this ship any longer than I must. The scout sphere is functioning. There must be someplace I can go and be safe." She shivered. "This place scares me. The others want to destroy themselves and the ship. I don't want to die."

"Captain Janeway won't let them destroy the cube," Neelix said confidently.

"How? And once you leave us, what guarantees do we have?"

"They'll see reason." His confidence was shaken, as he again looked out over the cavern. The visions of rows of crops replaced by rows of dead Borg. "Especially once they understand that they can survive."

"I wish I believed that. I wish I shared your optimism." She smiled at him.

"Do you want to stay on Voyager? I can ask Captain Janeway," Neelix asked happily. Sarexa smiled at the suggestion, then shook her head.

"And my friends?"

"Friends?" His smiled wavered.

"There are about fifty of us who want to leave the Trefla. Neelix, your ship is too small for us all." He felt his heart sink as she told him this.

"We could find room. Voyager has several unused spaces we could convert to quarters." He wanted her to stay.

"Neelix, your offer is tempting, but there is a scout sphere. It is locked down, and the controls are damaged."

"Perhaps Seven can help you access the sphere," he said helpfully, but sadly.

"Your Borg?" She grimaced, then took a deep breath. "I think I can convince the others to accept her help." He watched her leave, then turned his attention back to the central cavern, forcing his mind to concentrate on how to construct the necessary supports and hydroponic tanks.

#

Kathryn glanced up from Chakotay's report and smiled at her first officer. "I want a complete report on the progress of the repairs." It was perhaps the only bright spot during the sixteen hours they'd been assisting the Treflans. Chakotay nodded.

"I'm beaming back over as soon as we finish here."

"Excellent, Chakotay. Neelix is working with a group to create a series of gardens. He thinks those gardens will produce enough food to make them self-sufficient in a year."

They both frowned as the door slid open, and Icheb ran into her ready room. He came to attention. "I have it, Captain! I know how we can cure them!"

"Your exuberance is noted," Chakotay said with a smile. "Cadet Icheb, it is usually better to ask permission before bursting in. First year cadets learn appropriate protocol in dealing with senior officers."

Janeway watched with interest. Tuvok had kept her informed of Naomi and Icheb's progress. But all things considered, odds were good that both would be officers before they returned home.

"Oh. I'm sorry, sirs," he turned to leave.

"Wait, Cadet. I can tell your information is important. What have you found?" Janeway said.

The young man took a deep breath. "Actually, Naomi, Cadet Wildman, gave me the idea."

"Naomi is a very astute young woman." She leaned back in her chair. "And this idea?"

Icheb hesitated. "I know how to cure the Treflans. Captain, perhaps the Doctor should be here?" Kathryn quickly made the contact. She watched Icheb with a small smile. He was at that age where he still showed his enthusiasm--something she hoped he never lost.

"So," Janeway said to fill the time as they waited for the Doctor. "How are your studies going?"

"I have not had much time recently to study," Icheb said with a frown. "My time is better used in other endeavors." He relaxed slightly as the Doctor entered the room.

"Captain, Commander, Icheb. Is there a problem?"

"No, no," Janeway said. "Your protégé has a plan."

The Doctor turned to face Icheb. "Yes?"

"I know the Treflans are leery of anything Borg, but the modified nanoprobes may be the most effective way to regenerate the tissues and organs damaged by their plague."

"They won't allow it..."

Icheb raised a hand. "We don't have much choice. While you can cure the disease, there is no way, outside of long series of treatments, to repair the damage. We have no choice but to convince them to let us do this. The nanoprobes I modified with my virus are effective in regenerating damaged tissue. Captain, may I?" He motioned toward her computer terminal. She nodded. "The virus that I had been working on."

"The one that destroys the neural link completely." The Doctor looked thoughtful for several seconds. "It's the best idea anyone has had."

"We could use the central processing unit to disseminate it," Icheb said. "But without regeneration units to pass it to the survivors, it will be time consuming."

"Lieutenant Kim reports they have about a thousand regeneration chambers working. Cadet Icheb is correct. It would be the most effective way to administer the quantities needed." Janeway stood and joined the Doctor as Icheb made the changes to show how his virus-nanoprobe would work. Chakotay stood behind her, watching the images of nanoprobes on the screen. She shivered. Safe or not, she did understand why the Treflans feared them.

"We would only need to inject a few special nanoprobes. The Treflan nanoprobes are basically inactive--the new ones would use the modified virus to reactivate them--to help with repair of damaged tissue." Icheb touched a few buttons, and the image shifted to show a damaged nanoprobe being repaired. "The neural links would be completely disengaged and eventually destroyed."

"Thus alleviating their fears of reassimilation." Janeway nodded thoughtfully. "Commander, can you convince Yersa and others in the leadership?"

"I don't know." She glanced at him quickly, wondering at his lack of enthusiasm in his answer.

"The few introduced nanoprobes would use Borg technology in their bodies," Icheb said. "We wouldn't be introducing many. Maybe twenty-five, thirty per individual."

"It's not the numbers involved," the Doctor said. "It's the Borg technology."

"It's the only way," Icheb said. "The nanoprobes will save their lives. Eventually, they will be able to safely remove those implants that remain."

"Gentlemen, I believe we have a plan." She shook Icheb's hand. "Excellent work. How much time will you need?"

"An hour," Icheb responded. "I have enough to do maybe a thousand at first. Captain," he stood straighter, "I volunteer to be the first patient."

"No," Chakotay said. "It will have to be the Treflan leadership. They are paranoid enough over there." They all looked out the viewport at the damaged ship.

"Commander, please notify the leadership," Kathryn said. "Icheb, Doctor, prepare what you need."

"Aye, Captain," both the Doctor and Icheb said together.

#

Chakotay closed his eyes to adjust to the even greater darkness of what, for a Borg, was a small room. He opened them slowly and located Cretia and the prone figure in the corner. He knew: they were too late. If only they'd had the answers sixteen hours ago.

Cretia glanced up at Chakotay and smiled sadly. "She will be pleased you are here." She motioned with her head for him to join her. Doctor Miller and Sakat moved to join them as well.

Chakotay crouched. "Yersa?"

Yersa coughed violently. "Take care of my people..." The coughing drowned out anything else she was going to say. Eugenie Miller knelt beside him.

"Yersa, please. Voyager's Doctor can save you. Commander Chakotay says they have a cure."

"No time. It's more important to save the others."

"Yersa, please." Miller closed her eyes. "Without you, there is no chance."

"No single person is that important," Yersa's voice faded. She reached out to touch Chakotay. "The spirit was right. You will take care of my people." The hand went limp.

Sakat placed a hand on Dr. Miller's shoulder. "We need to proceed with the Commander's plan. Yersa wanted it this way."

Cretia stood slowly. "But we can't let anyone know that she has died. It would be chaos."

"Cretia's correct," Sakat said. "We need to continue as if she was alive."

"Lie?" Chakotay stood quickly. "Yersa wouldn't want you to lie to your people."

Dr. Miller shook her head. "It's not lying, we'll inform them after the treatment is complete."

"A half-truth is as bad as a lie," Chakotay retorted.

"How would you know?" Cretia said angrily. "You don't understood the air of suspicion and fear here. You live on a healthy ship, with others you can trust." Cretia stormed out of the room.

Sakat spoke quietly, "But what choice do we have? Your plan involves Borg technology. Without Yersa's authority, we will never convince the rest to go along, and it will all be for naught."

"Commander Chakotay, Sakat and I agree that we must be the first to receive this treatment, to show that it is safe and that we will not become Borg again," Miller said. "Come, we will make the announcement of the treatment."

Chakotay shook his head, maybe they were right. The power struggle that would follow the announcement of Yersa's death would interfere with the cure--and possibly put Voyager's crew at risk. "Chakotay to Voyager, we're ready." A second later, Voyager's doctor and Icheb appeared in front of him.

Voyager's doctor glanced around and saw Yersa's body lying on the floor. "I was afraid this would happen. We may have trouble convincing..."

Chakotay interrupted angrily, "They aren't going to tell anyone until afterwards. Let's just get started." He walked out. He still was not convinced this was the best plan--but it was their ship, not his.

"Commander!" Neelix shouted at him. "I have a request."

Chakotay watched as the two Talaxians approached--leave it to Neelix to find the only Talaxian on the ship. He smiled as he realized Neelix's friend was female. "Neelix, what can I do for you?"

"Commander, this Sarexa. She and about fifty others would like to take the scout-sphere and find a safe haven."

"The Trefla will be safe. Icheb has found a cure..."

"That is excellent news, Commander," Neelix said. Chakotay wondered why he didn't smile. "Sarexa, you really should..."

"Is it Borg?" she asked.

"Yes. It is a specially modified nanoprobe..." Chakotay started to say.

"I don't want to be reassimilated."

"Icheb has created a special nanoprobe that will break your neural link," Chakotay said.

Sarexa hesitated. Chakotay recognized her reluctance to use Borg technology. He started to say he understood that reluctance, but Neelix had the answer.

"You wish to leave the Trefla so you can live free," Neelix whispered, "but why bother if you aren't willing to live?"

"Yes," she whispered. "I will do it. Commander, the Scout Sphere?"

"This is something that you really need to discuss with Sakat and Dr. Miller."

Sarexa nodded. "Sakat has already given his permission."

Chapter Text

Act 4

Seven was proud of Icheb as she watched him prepare the working regeneration chambers for use. He had come far--perhaps in some ways, farther than she had. He had purpose, he made friends more easily than she did. He belonged on Voyager. She turned and walked away, not caring that her constant shadow, Crewman Brannon, had returned to Voyager after falling and breaking his arm. His replacement had not yet arrived.

She continued to worry that Axum had not responded to her message. She tried a couple of times from Voyager with no success. She'd hoped that the Trefla's Borg systems would be more effective. Was he still on the other end of the galaxy? Had they settled somewhere? Was he even still alive?

She made her way to the scout sphere. She'd already determined that the access codes were intact and the ship unscathed.

A soft thump stopped her.

Seven turned to face the sound, her phaser drawn. Four ghastly looking individuals stood there. "What do you want?"

"Borg," one hissed as he leaped forward. It didn't take much effort to avoid his attack; he collapsed behind her. She grabbed the second attacker, and twisted his arm. He sank to his knees, his face twisted in pain. The others backed away.

"You attack me because of my implants?"

"You are not purified, you are a threat to us."

"I am not the danger--you are." She lifted him off the ground easily; he was too scrawny and sickly to prevent it. "I am alive because of my Borg implants; you are weak and dying because you have rejected yours." She placed him gently on the ground. "Go to the medical bay and get some help."

"They are using Borg medicine."

"Because that is what will save your life." She looked at the other two attackers, the first attacker was still unconscious behind her. She started to kneel to check his pulse.

"Death before assimilation," they cried and rushed her. She fired three times. The attackers fell to the floor.

"Seven to Commander Chakotay."

"Chakotay here. Seven?"

"I have four to beam to the medical bay." She knelt beside them. "I was attacked, and despite using stun, two have died."

"I understand. Lieutenant Ayala and a security team will be there. Chakotay out." The four vanished.

Seven stood slowly, her hand rubbed her own ocular implant. Could they not realize that to be free of the Collective did not mean having to die?

#

"Commander?" Harry turned to face the commander, the regenerators forgotten at the grim look on the other's face.

"Seven's been attacked," Chakotay said angrily. "She's fine, but she did kill two of her attackers. We're trying to help them..."

Ayala's voice interrupted the conversation. "Commander, Seven is refusing to return to Voyager."

"Damn," Chakotay growled. "Tell her..."

"Commander Chakotay," Seven's voice said. "These are my people. I have to help them. I cannot help them if I am on Voyager. Please?"

Harry wondered at Seven's almost plaintive plea. So did Chakotay, if the surprised expression on the Commander's face was any indication.

"Never mind, I'll be right there." Chakotay glanced at Harry and motioned for him to follow. "I should force her to return to Voyager at phaserpoint."

"That would be interesting."

"I doubt it would be interesting..." Chakotay muttered. They both turned as a bright light splattered on the wall next to them. Harry had his phaser out, but neither man had a chance to return fire: they both collapsed as a white phaser blast hit them.

#

Seven glanced around, then looked at Lieutenant Ayala. "I wish to continue working until Commander Chakotay arrives." Ayala hesitated then nodded.

"Go with her," he ordered the two guards with him.

She didn't argue. At least she could continue helping.

"Commander?" Ayala said into his combadge. When he repeated the word again, she stopped.

"Is there a problem?"

Ayala didn't answer. "Ayala to Commander Tuvok, I'm not able to contact Commander Chakotay."

#

"Welcome back, Commander," the Doctor said with a smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Like someone shot me."

"That's not surprising. Someone did shoot you."

"And Harry?"

"Lieutenant Kim will make a complete recovery. So will you."

"That's good. Doctor, I need to return to the Trefla." Chakotay rubbed his neck as he noticed the regulation sickbay blues he was wearing. "Where is my uniform?"

The Doctor hesitated. "I am sorry Commander, but for the next three hours you and Lieutenant Kim are in isolation. Your clothes were destroyed. They were contaminated."

"What happened?" Chakotay growled.

"Someone jabbed their assimilation tubules into you and the lieutenant. You were both contaminated, but the bio-filters recognized the bacteria as being foreign. I want you under observation to make sure."

"Damn them all..." Chakotay rubbed his neck angrily. He knew the skin had been regenerated, but he knew exactly where the tubules had been placed. The exact same place Riley had used.

"It was just one, Commander. Lieutenant Tuvok and Captain Janeway are over there now trying to identify your attacker."

"Damn, she shouldn't be allowed over there. Someone over there wants us dead. We can't trust them."

"Commander, Commander Tuvok has already increased security onboard the Trefla. And speaking of the captain, she was most concerned about you." The Doctor motioned for Tom to approach. "Lieutenant Paris will sedate you if you cannot remain calm. It's only for three hours."

"Gee, thanks," Tom said. "Any chance I can be assigned to garbage disposal instead?"

"Use that sedative on me, and you'll be in sickbay for the rest of our trip." Chakotay glanced over to where Harry Kim was lying. "How is he?"

"He's taking advantage of his vacation and sleeping," Tom said with a smile. "He'll be fine."

"At least let me have access to a computer." Tom glanced at the Doctor who nodded.

"Sure thing, Commander. Would you like something to eat? The mess hall is closed, but we can replicate some food for you, if you want."

"Water..."

"Not the Antarian Cider?" Tom laughed when Chakotay glared at him.

#

Captain Janeway glared at the two security officers who stood before her. Three of her crew had been attacked within a few minutes of each other. All three had been beamed back to Voyager. Seven had gone reluctantly.

Doctor Miller and Sakat stood behind her. It was painfully obvious they were deeply disturbed by these events. "Captain," Ayala said, "our Doctor has managed to isolate the attacker's DNA from Commander Chakotay and Lieutenant Kim."

"You understand, I want this person." Janeway turned to face Miller and Sakat. They nodded. "We'll imprison them for the duration of our stay. I don't want any more such incidents."

"We understand. I can't believe anyone would want to do this. You are trying to help us." Miller looked at the floor.

"I can," Sakat said. "I worried that using Borg technology would anger someone--illogical as that may be."

She agreed with the illogic of the attack. She nodded when Commander Tuvok entered. "Commander?"

"Captain. We have questioned Seven's attackers. One admits being ordered by their leader to attack her."

"Find this leader," Janeway said, her hands on her hips.

"No one knows who the leader is."

"I see. Do what you can. Maintain the increased security while our people are still here."

"Understood, Captain," Tuvok said. He glanced at Dr. Miller. "We have analyzed the DNA recovered from Commander Chakotay and Lieutenant Kim. The attacker was a human female. Dr. Miller's DNA does not match."

"That's a relief," Miller said with a smile.

Janeway turned to Commander Tuvok. "You believe the two attacks were related."

"I have nothing to base that conclusion on," Tuvok said. "But considering the militant anti-Borg sentiment, yes, I do. We are looking for members of these groups."

"Commander, keep me informed."

"Aye, Captain." Tuvok made a sharp about face and left. She started to speak, but Neelix's shout stopped her.

"Captain," Neelix asked quietly. "How is the Commander?"

"He has regained consciousness."

Neelix sighed. "That is excellent news. And the cure? Will we still be able to complete the treatments?"

"Yes, of course." There were a number of 'buts' that Janeway thought of adding, but she left them unsaid. "We're ready to begin."

"And we are ready." Miller glanced at Sakat. "We have survived the treatment for three hours. Our link to the others was very weak before the treatment. I could feel more than hear the thoughts of those nearby. Now I can't hear the thoughts of anyone." She smiled. "It's scary, yet exhilarating."

"It is pleasant to have my thoughts to myself," Sakat added.

"We have lined up the first group of volunteers for the treatment." Dr. Miller smiled. Voyager's Doctor had started working with Miller in designing a protocol for replacing limbs, eyes, and other body parts destroyed in the de-assimilation process, and those lost in the initial assimilation.

"Sarexa and her group will be amongst the first to undergo the cure," Neelix said, after Sakat and Miller had left.

Janeway nodded. Sarexa and her group's desire to leave the Trefla was greater than their fear of the Borg-tech cure. "That is good news."

He looked away quickly, then smiled again. "Yes, it is. It's a symbol of hope."

"Do they know where they are going?"

"They passed an uninhabited planet six months ago. Sarexa says they will return there," Neelix said with a sigh. "I hear the Trefla may look for other liberated Borg. I don't know if they even know why."

"We know they're out there," Janeway said. "Axum, Korok, and others, even though we've not heard from them."

"Oh. I was hoping Axum had responded to Seven's message. She's very worried."

"Seven sent a message?" She knew that once there had been more between Seven and Axum than simple friendship. Janeway wondered why Seven hadn't told her about trying to contact Axum.

"She's curious how he is," Neelix said. He waved at someone, and his smile grew as a Talaxian female approached. "Captain, this is Sarexa."

"Sarexa, I'm pleased to meet you."

"Captain," Sarexa said as she took Neelix's hand. "Promise to stay with me while they do this." He smiled at her, then glanced at Janeway who nodded.

Poor Neelix, she thought. He'd found the one Talaxian on this end of the galaxy, and she was leaving soon.

#

"Yersa's death just confirms what we've believed," Cretia said to Nelem and the small group of armed drones behind him. "We cannot allow the nanoprobes to be used on us."

"She is now free of the Borg," Nelem said. "And now we must work to save ourselves. We have discussed your plan. It is a good one."

"I know." She smiled. "Voyager has supplies, medical treatment, and working weapons. It will be enough to carry out our plans."

"And we can use their medical facilities to create a treatment that doesn't involve Borg nanoprobes?" Nelem asked.

She nodded as she studied the group of thirty. "We will have to use Borg technology to win the fight though."

"We accept that. It is a small price to pay for our freedom from this place." Nelem glanced behind him. "I've picked the most healthy. They will have to transport the rest of us over when they have captured Voyager."

"Excellent. The repairs to the transporters are complete. It is time to begin our plans!"

"To freedom," Nelem said. The others repeated the phrase.

#

Seven waited in transporter room one. She'd wanted to beam over with the Captain and Commander Tuvok, but her request had been denied. She wanted...

No, she needed to be over there. The Treflans had to be given every chance to survive. Like she had been. Captain Janeway had offered her a place on Voyager. A home.

Yet, she felt restless. A year ago she would have been honored to accept Janeway's offer. Now she wasn't sure. Maybe she felt she deserved better than a lieutenant's commission. Maybe she just didn't know where she fit in. Voyager was her home, but Voyager's destination was the Alpha Quadrant. Would the citizens there accept her?

She glanced up as the lights blinked and Paris' voice filled the airwaves. "This is not a drill. Intruder alert on decks eleven and two. All hands, battle stations."

Seven pulled out her phaser and bolted out the door. The lifts had been locked down, so she made her way to the nearest Jefferies tube.

"Seven to the Bridge, what is happening?"

"Seven? I can barely hear you," Paris said. There were several crackles. "We believe thirty of the Treflans have beamed over. Half beamed to Engineering, the other half are trying to storm the Bridge." His voice faded out. She turned to face the sound behind her.

"Voyager's resident Borg. Think you are safe here?" Cretia said. Her rifle was pointed at Seven.

"I do not understand."

"No, you wouldn't. So safe and cozy here. Do you have any idea what hell is being played out in the Collective?"

"Yes, I do. You will not succeed in capturing Voyager."

"That is exactly what we shall do. And with Voyager we can be free of all things Borg, and take our revenge on our enemies." Cretia started to cough.

"And die. Without the cure, you will all die."

"We will use Voyager's technology to save us. Here there are the resources..."

"Resources 'tainted' with Borg technology. This ship is loaded with that technology."

Cretia shrugged. "Then we'll remove it." She took a step forward. "How can you stand to look like that. Keep those...those metal things on your body, a constant reminder of how you've been violated. It's so Borg. You can never be free of the Collective."

"This is who I am," Seven said. "It is who you are, too." Seven held out her hand. "You do not need to do this."

"Death over assimilation!" Seven dropped to the deck and rolled quickly as Cretia fired. When Seven returned the invader's fire, she did not miss.

#

Janeway had just spent ten agonizing minutes not knowing what was happening on her ship. From Tom's initial report of the attack until just a moment ago, she and Commander Tuvok had been unable to return to Voyager, or even learn what was happening. The ex-drones had been overwhelmed by her crew quickly, with minimal damage to the ship, and the apparent ring-leader was dead. The danger was over; the attackers were to be returned to the Trefla. A few had even decided to undergo the treatment.

"Cretia of all people," Dr. Miller said.

"Cretia had been reluctant to undergo the treatment," Sakat said. "Perhaps that should have alerted us."

"Perhaps, but she was not alone in that reluctance," Janeway said.

"I never suspected her," Miller said sadly. "Captain Janeway, you and your crew have worked so hard to save us, yet we tried to take your ship,"

"It was not your fault," Janeway replied.

"It is politic of you to be so understanding," Sakat said. "But we should have foreseen their actions. Their fear of Borg technology was well known."

"You could not foresee this action," Janeway said. "Cadet Icheb has advised me that he now has enough nanoprobes to finish the job."

"We have made a ship wide announcement and sent out emissaries. Many of us have hidden rather than risk being attacked." She glanced at Sakat. "We still have many problems to overcome."

"Engineering is working on the replicators and energy supplies. Lieutenants Kim and Carey believe they will provide most of your needs. And Neelix has designed a series of hydroponic gardens."

"Most of our needs," Miller said, "Do you know how hard it is for us to trade, let alone have a conversation with any ship or government?"

"I can imagine. We've not had great luck either. Perhaps you can find a planet to settle on?"

"It is an idea we have discussed. We've also discussed finding other freed Borg and uniting with them. Perhaps we can find a world where freed drones can feel safe."

"I understand. Word of Yersa's death is already spreading. Those who invaded our ship say that Cretia blamed the nanoprobes for Yersa's death. Cretia's DNA matches the samples taken from Commander Chakotay and Lieutenant Kim. And we have learned she had been secretly supplying information to Nelem's group."

"Cretia knew that Yersa never had a chance to be treated." Miller glanced at Sakat. "We have no choice but to tell our people. And the prisoners?"

"We are willing to return them to the Trefla."

"We will provide a secure area until you are safely away," Sakat answered

Chapter Text

Epilogue

Janeway moved to stand next to Chakotay on the bridge of Voyager. "Open a channel," she said.

"Channel open," Harry replied.

"Voyager to the Trefla."

"Trefla here. Captain Janeway, we wish to once more thank you and your crew for all you have done for us and endured." Dr. Miller appeared on the screen, a big smile on her face. Behind her stood Sakat. All that remained of the sores were some small scars. The EMH had left the specifics for replicating and using the nanoprobes to connect prosthetic devices.

"And we wish you good luck." Janeway raised her right hand, fingers parted in the Vulcan salute. "Live long and prosper."

Miller smiled, "Thanks to you, we will. Farewell."

The image vanished. "The Trefla is going to warp," Harry said. The transwarp coils had been too badly damaged to simply open a transwarp conduit." The ship vanished, leaving the smaller scout sphere. Another image appeared on the screen. Neelix stepped forward.

"Sarexa," he said. "Good luck to you."

"And you, Neelix. I shall remember you. You have a kind heart." Sarexa smiled. "Farewell, Captain Janeway, Commander Chakotay."

Then they too vanished. The space around Voyager was devoid of any ships. After a second of silence, Janeway ordered that they resume course to the Alpha-Quadrant.

"Captain, we're being hailed," Harry said. She could hear the puzzlement in his voice. "It's for Annika...Seven."

#

The Doctor stopped walking. Seven was talking with someone. He picked out the word 'Axum' and saw her smile.

She so rarely smiled, he thought, that such moments were usually a wonder for him. He closed his eyes. Perhaps he'd been wrong to tinker with his programming over the years. He'd added things no hologram was supposed to know.

Things like emotions. He'd felt guilt and remorse, and had several times asked permission to return his holomatrix to its original state. The Captain had refused.

But watching Seven smile like that caused a bittersweet ache he couldn't describe.

"Doctor?" He shook his head to end his reverie. "Did you need to see me?" Seven was standing in front of him.

"I just wondered if you had found your friend."

"Axum is alive." Again she smiled at his name.

"That is excellent news." He managed to maintain a neutral expression.

"Yes, it is. His fleet is in the Delta Quadrant. They found a colony of former drones...Their colony is flourishing, but Axum does not like how they keep order. They helped repair his ships, but it is not the place he would like to have the former Borg live."

The Doctor placed a hand on her shoulder, then quickly removed it. "They must decide for themselves..."

"But how can they?" she asked angrily. "They are still too Borg. They have no free will!"

He couldn't answer--she was right.

"Excuse me, Doctor, if there is nothing else, I have a message for Commander Chakotay."

#

Chakotay smiled as B'Elanna entered his office. "Well, Lieutenant, your engineering department once again handled themselves professionally and competently."

She smiled at him in return. "Thank you, Chakotay. I'll let them know."

"You know, they might have been even more efficient if you didn't contact them every few minutes."

B'Elanna crossed her arms and stared at him. "I needed to be kept up-to-date, and since I was ordered to remain on Voyager...Anyway I only contacted them every hour or so. I have an idea for the transwarp." She shrugged. "The Trefla was too badly damaged to provide all the information I needed. It is a complicated plan. There is just too much that can go wrong--and we've had too many disappointments. I'd rather not tell anyone, so no one is disappointed if it doesn't work."

"Curious logic. You have Starfleet helping, perhaps it is time to have your shipmates help?"

She shook her head vehemently. "No. At this moment, I don't even know exactly what I'm doing. When I have a better grasp of what needs to be done..."

"B'E, the rumor mill for the past three months has been very active. I'm sure most of them already know."

"I rather liked the rumor about creating a better coffee formula." He smiled at her attempt to change the subject.

"So did I." The door chime interrupted whatever else he planned to say. "Enter."

Seven entered. "Commander, I have contacted Axum."

"So I understood. How is he doing?"

"They have been fighting. He wishes to find a safe place for his people. In his travels, he has met with many freed Borg." Seven hesitated. "He sent me a message for you. I have sent it to your terminal. Good afternoon, Commander." She turned and left.

Chakotay glanced at B'Elanna who just shrugged. "What message would Axum have for me?" He pulled up the message.

"Well?" B'Elanna asked.

"It's not from Axum." He stared at screen, debating just hitting the delete button.

"Should I go?" B'Elanna asked. He shook his head and activated the short message. B'Elanna moved to where she could see the image.

Chakotay ended the recording with a disappointed sigh. He wasn't surprised at Riley and the New Cooperative's wait and see attitude. Let others do their fighting seemed to be what they were best at. He leaned back and glanced at B'Elanna. She shook her head.

"Kahless! *QamvIS Hegh qaq law' torvIS yIn qaq puS!"

"What freedom? They may like living on their knees," Chakotay said. "Riley and others decided that a mini Collective was better than the anarchy that had threatened to overwhelm them."

"I still don't believe it."

"Riley, Cretia..." He sighed. "She used me."

"Cretia or Riley? Or both?" B'Elanna asked. "Cretia decided that having power was more important than life. Riley wanted order. They both did whatever it took to reach those ends."

He shrugged in frustration.

"Chakotay, she used all of us." B'Elanna grinned at him. "You should watch out for blonde former Borg."

The End