Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was ridiculous to think the streaks of stars at warp on the viewscreen were different, but Ro Laren couldn’t shake the thought. Everything seemed off on some fundamental level, and it was colouring her perceptions.

Or maybe it was the Cardassian command chair on their recently stolen—and subsequently seriously waylaid—ship, the Li Nalas. She preferred sitting at the conn. The chair was no more comfortable, but at least she had something to do.

Like try to figure out how the hell they’d ever get home.

Dimly lit, a few degrees too warm, and the typical dull grey-green of Cardassian design, the bridge did no favours to her mood, either.

The door to the bridge opened, and Ro turned, grateful for the interruption from her own thoughts. Tamal and Sullivan entered.

Dean Tamal she’d been expecting—he’d promised her a full report on the status of the Li Nalas by the time they got to their rendezvous with Voyager, and he was the sort to overdeliver—but Rebecca Sullivan had said she was going to keep working in “that dismal excuse for a sickbay” for the duration.

Neither looked happy. That didn’t bode well.

Ro remembered the large, comfortable ready room Commander—no, Captain—Cavit had on Voyager and wished, not for the first time, she had something similar to use herself.

The Li Nalas, however, was sleek and borderline bare-bones, having more in common with a defiant-class ship than explorer types, let alone tactically competent ships three times its size like Voyager.

Vance had the conn, Cing’ta was manning tactical, and Sahreen Lan was monitoring Ops and chatting quietly with their Ocampan passenger, Kes, who still looked crestfallen after their interaction with the ‘friend’ she’d led them to.

The man, Neelix, had tried to convince her to go with him. She wanted him to come with her, not willing to turn her back on the people who'd rescued her. In the end, he’d agreed only to trade them for his star charts and personal database, and had warned her she’d regret going off with “scruffy alien pirates.”

None of them were paying attention to her, but Ro knew they’d be able to hear whatever Tamal and Sullivan said.

Nothing to be done about it.

Ro rose, meeting them half-way at the rear of the bridge, by the master systems display of the Li Nalas. She noticed someone had updated the name of the ship on the display, and smiled to herself.

“What’s our status?” she asked.

“Li-Paz, Santos and I have done a full inventory, finished diagnostics and…” Tamal waved a hand. “It’s not terrible. From a Maquis point of view, we’ve got better weapons than we’re used to—these are top-notch Cadassian disruptors—and the torpedoes are comparable to Starfleet, though we’ve only got ten of them. Shields, on the other hand? Well. Cardassian shields. You know. Transporters, replicators…” He shrugged. “I can’t speak to the quality of the food patterns, but it’s edible, and Li-Paz swears he can program them for something more palatable. That’s the good news.”

“And the bad?”

“The shields, like I said, but also everything else you’d expect from a patrol ship. Only key systems have back-ups—assumption is this ship would always be close to home, I guess, alongside the usual Cardassian arrogance. Energy reserves aren’t impressive either. Monthly, at best, if we’re careful, and that’s only because there’s less than thirty of us on board. Don’t get me wrong. She’s a lovely ship, and if we were bringing her back to Athos IV, I’d be suggesting we throw a party, but…”

Ro understood. They weren’t at Athos IV. They were in the Delta Quadrant, and there weren’t any friendly stations to stop by for repairs and refuelling. She turned to Sullivan. “And you?”

“More of the same, only I don’t have the good news part.” Her brown eyes shone with some humour, but it wasn’t funny so much as fatalistic.

“Sickbay that bad?” Ro said.

“Tiny, for one.” Sullivan said. “And very Cardassian. It’s not entirely useless, but a lot of it would be best suited to barter for things we might need. Some of the equipment I can adjust, like the dermal regenerators.”

“Good,” Vance piped up, confirming Ro’s assumptions they’d all listen in to the conversation. “I don’t want scales.”

“Scales would be an improvement on you, Vance,” Cing’ta said, and a brief murmur of laughter rounded the bridge, Vance included.

“The biobed—singular—isn’t set up to deviate from Cardassian readings, which makes it all but useless,” Sullivan went on. “I’ll have to work with a medical tricorder if someone gets hurt. Honestly? I think the designer of this ship put more thought into the brig.”

“We can probably recalibrate the bio-bed,” Tamal said. “We’d need access to the medical database for the crew’s species from Voyager, but I’m pretty sure I could figure it out.”

“How long do you think Voyager’s going to keep offering us handouts?” Vance said.

“Vance,” Ro said, just enough warning in her voice to make it clear this wasn’t a topic she wanted to explore right now.

Especially given their company.

As if she realized Ro was thinking about her—and given Ocampa were telepathic, maybe she did—Kes turned from where she’d been working with Lan and the database her friend had provided them and tilted her head in question.

“Do you think Captain Cavit and his crew would leave you behind?”

Silence fell. Vance shifted in his chair, Cing’ta suddenly found his readings very interesting. Lan paused. Sullivan and Tamal exchanged a glance.

Ro needed to answer.

“No,” she said. “No, I don’t believe he would.”

She saw Vance’s shoulders rise again, and even saw a flush spread up the back of his neck, but he didn’t speak. The way his whole body tightened was expressive, though.

“I know we all have reasons to distrust Starfleet,” Ro said, feeling all the more on unsteady ground. “But Cavit—Voyager—gave us their word. I believe they intend to keep it.”

“You think they’ve talking about us the way we’re talking about them?” Tamal said, in a gentler, amused voice Ro thought was pitched to take some of the edge off. Like her, Tamal was former Starfleet. He’d been a transporter chief on the Ghandi.

“Nothing I’ve heard,” Cing’ta said.

Ro exhaled. “Tell me you’re not monitoring their comms.”

Cing’ta pivoted in the tactical station chair. “You don’t want me to monitor their communications?” The large Bolian looked honestly befuddled, and she supposed it was fair enough, given that was his specialty and he was damned good at it. “They won’t catch me,” he said, as if that was the problem.

“No,” Ro said, speaking as clearly and evenly as possible. “I don’t want you to monitor Voyager. Whatever you set up, disable it.”

Silence on the bridge again, even less comfortable than before.

Ro didn’t care. This had to be stopped, now, before it went any further. She took the command chair again. Uncomfortable or not, she knew it underlined who was in charge.

“I need you all to hear what I’m saying,” she said. “We are not spying on Voyager. They are our allies. We treat them with trust. Is that understood?”

The chorus of affirmative replies came quietly, and not entirely enthusiastically, but they came.

“Cing?” she repeated.

Cing’ta nodded. “As soon as we’re within range of Voyager, I’ll command the comm worms to self-delete.” He didn’t sound happy, but he didn’t sound angry, either.

It would have to do.

Ro couldn’t help looking at Kes again. The Ocampa—neither Starfleet nor Maquis, but a young woman very much along for the ride—met her gaze and offered a small nod and a smile of support.

Well. That was something.

Hopefully it would be enough.

Chapter Text

A half-circle of space tucked on the second deck, the mess hall of the Li Nalas came down to little more than a pair of wedge-shaped tables arranged to either side of a single replicator centred on the wall, and eight chairs built right into the decking of the room itself. Clearly, the crew were expected to eat in regimented, scheduled waves.

When Ro entered, she saw Li-Paz had the panel to the left of the replicator open, and was working with a PADD and a series of tools designed for fine engineering work. The dark-haired Bajoran worked quickly, while to his left, at the closest table, Kalita and Santos watched him work, clearly amused.

“I’ve almost got it,” Li-Paz said, without turning. “But coming to check on me every five minutes doesn’t help. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

“Pardon?” Ro said.

Li-Paz turned. “Oh! Sorry. Thought you were Cing.”

“Cing’s hungry,” Kalita volunteered. “And Paz here took the replicator offline to try and program in hasperat.”

“Which was a surprise for you,” Li-Paz said, then aiming a short glare Kalita’s way. “And is now ruined.” He picked up a spanner and got back to work.

“I don’t mind waiting,” Ro said, a little warmed by Li-Paz’s gesture, and taking the third seat with the other two. “The bridge command chair is murder.” She shifted. “Although, this is terrible, too.”

“I’ll add the chairs to the list,” Li-Paz said, without looking up. “And the beds. It’s going to take quite a bit of work to get the Li Nalas to feel comfortable, but Santos and I think we’ve got the humidity figured out.” He grunted, then let out a little snort of annoyance. “There you are, you miserable lock-out.” He stabbed at the replicator and there was an audible trill from the device.

“Environmental controls were convinced our input was in error,” Santos said. “But we eventually got it to believe that we didn’t want to feel like we were breathing moisture.”

“I’d noticed,” Ro said. And she had. The air had been getting genuinely more comfortable over the last hour.

“Ha!” Li-Paz said. “Interface access. Miserable Cardassian garbage code.”

“How long has he been working on this?” Ro said, pitching her voice low.

Santos shook his head, concealing a small smile behind a raised hand. “Almost an hour.”

“I can hear you,” Li-Paz said. “And…” He stepped back, closing the panel. “You’re about to eat your words.” He tapped the panel, which cycled through a reboot before settling back to an operational waiting mode. Li-Paz leaned forward, activated the replicator, and said, “Four plates of hasperat.”

The device hummed, and four plates swirled into being. The briny scent came first, and the plates sizzled. Li-Paz grabbed the first two and passed them over to Kalita, who passed them both on to Ro’s side of the table for Ro and Santos.

Once they all had a plate, Li-Paz held out forks. Ro cut a very conservative piece off the corner of her hasperat, which did indeed seem to be the right colour and texture, but she wasn’t going to trust a Cardassian replicator enough to take a big bite. Santos and Kalita were following her lead, but Li-Paz had shovelled a forkfull into his mouth without pause.

He grinned. “And that, my friends,” he said around a mouth still half-full of food, “is why I always travel with my favourite replicator recipes at hand.”

Ro bit into the hasperat. Spicy, though the brine was hardly the hottest she’d ever had, the taste washed around her mouth in the best ways.

A taste of youth, and home, and comfort. 

“Good job,” Ro said, unable to stop the smile from getting through.

Kalita gave a little moan of appreciation, nodding around her bite.

Santos held up his glass of water to clink it against Li-Paz’s.

It was a silly thing to affect her as much as it did, but Ro couldn’t help but feel a wash of hope and optimism. She took a generous forkfull for a second bite, and the four fell into eating almost in silence.

The door opened, and Cing’ta stepped in, took a single sniff, and then faced Li-Paz. The big Bolian crossed his arms.

“You said you’d call me when it was ready.” The man’s deep bass was a rumble of annoyance.

“S’ready,” Li-Paz said around a mouthful, aiming a thumb over one shoulder.

The Bolian want to the replicator and ordered. More hasperat appeared.

“When we’re done,” Ro said, almost to herself. “We should head to the bridge and engineering and let the others have their turns. I don’t think anyone ate much of breakfast this morning.”

“Agreed.” Kalita laughed. The eggs they’d replicated this morning had been… less than ideal.

Ro realized she hadn’t heard Kalita laugh since they’d found themselves in the Delta Quadrant, and took it as a good sign. Nothing about this was ideal, but if their humour was returning, if there was hope for better food?

Things were looking up.

No sooner had she had the thought than a tremor struck the ship, shaking them all in their seats. Santos had to grab the wall to stay put.

Ro slid out of her chair and went to the communicator on the wall, tapping the icon to open a channel. “Report!”

Vance’s voice was terse. “Spacial disturbance. We hit the leading edge.”

“Lan?” Ro said.

“Type four quantum singularity,” Sahreen Lan said, a moment later.

Ro eyed the others, and the half-eaten plates of food.

“On our way,” she said.

They all moved. Cing’ta grabbed his hasperat in hand, taking a big bite as he followed behind the rest.

One benefit of a small ship Ro didn’t mind at all was how quickly they could get to the bridge.

“What’s our status?” she said, avoiding the uncomfortable command chair to stand behind Sahreen Lan’s station instead. The Trill had the sensors performing a full sweep, and unless Ro was mistaken, they weren’t alone.

“I’ve brought us to a dead stop,” Vance said. “Lan said it would be a bad idea to keep going.”

“She’s right,” Ro said, knowing full well the dangers of subspace distortions. She pointed to the readings. “Is that a ship?” It was hard to tell, the singularity was putting out a lot of distortion.

“I think so,” Lan said. “Let me try to put it on screen.”

They all looked at the viewscreen, where a blurred vessel of some kind was barely visible beside the blue and purple distortion rings of the singularity. The other ship was much closer to the singularity.

“We’re receiving a hail,” Lan said.

“Let’s hear it,” Ro said.

Lan opened the channel, but what followed was a series of noises that could almost be made out to language, but not quite.

Ro exchanged a glance with the Trill. She shook her head. “It’s going to take me some time to clean that up, if I can at all.”

“Hail them,” Ro said.

Lan opened a channel.

“This is Ro Laren of the Li Nalas. We couldn’t make out your previous message. Do you need assistance?”

They waited.

“No response. It’s possible our message is being distorted or even completely degraded by the singularity.”

Ro exhaled. “They’re too close to it.”

“Can we tractor them out?” Cing’ta said. Despite his size and often gruff exterior when among those who didn’t know him, the Bolian definitely had a compassionate streak.

“Tamal?” Ro said, not wanting to dismiss the notion out of hand.

“Maybe,” Tamal said, considering. “I’m going to need a bit of time to compensate for the distortion, but I think the tractor beam we’ve got might be enough.”

Ro eyed the fuzzy ship in the distance. “Get on it. Can we send a signal to Voyager? Warn them about the anomaly, and let them know we’re a little late?”

Lan tapped her console, then shook her head. “I don’t think we’d get a signal outside the interference.”

Ro sighed. “Let’s get at it, then.”

She went to the uncomfortable chair, but just before she sat, she noticed Kes was staring at the screen, eyes slightly hooded.

“Kes?” she said, quietly.

“I can sense… someone, I think,” Kes said. “It’s… familiar.”

“Familiar,” Ro said. She eyed the screen. The distortion was too hard to see through, but Kes didn’t have a lot of people she was familiar with out in space.

Was the trapped ship Voyager?

Ro bit her lip, and sank into the uncomfortable chair.

*

Captain's log, stardate 48439.7: We’re on our way to the rendezvous point to meet up with the Li Nalas. We’re working our way through routine maintenance and diagnostic evaluations, and finishing the final repairs from our run-in with the Kazon. It would barely be of note were we back home, but out here, without access to a starbase or supplies, every step of the process is a conscious choice to use our limited reserves.

Personal log, supplemental: Okay. I just made my first official log and I’m never going to get used to saying ‘Captain,’ am I? I keep imagining what advice I’d give a captain in my position, but that’s no good either, because I don’t have a first officer. I need to make choices, especially about personnel, but I can’t help but feel like no matter who I consider, I’m depriving the ship of someone already placed where we need them to be. 

Cavit sat down at the head of the briefing room table and gave his PADD another viewing as though somehow, something might have changed since the last time he’d looked at it. Nothing had. Eighteen names. Eighteen deaths.

The door opened, and the first of the senior staff to arrive stepped through—Lieutenant Taitt and Dr. Fitzgerald. They both looked surprised to see him already present, and dropped their conversation.

“Captain,” Taitt said, sitting.

Fitzgerald sat beside her, giving him a quiet, quizzical check-in look.

Cavit nodded at him, and the doctor looked relieved.

Honigsberg was next, and then Stadi rounded out their group.

They were all early. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but he couldn’t resist a small smile. “I take it we’re all eager?”

Honigsberg chuckled, never one to stand too firmly on protocol. “I have it on good authority there are some betting pools happening.”

Cavit shook his head. “Of course.” With the Captain gone and Lieutenant Tuvok still in the Alpha Quadrant, the chain of command was missing the links that were supposed to go above and below him. He couldn’t imagine the situation not inspiring discussion.

Gossip, after all, was the only thing faster than warp engines.

“Okay,” Cavit said, calling the meeting to order. “Personnel.”

They all turned to face him. He lifted the PADD, though he didn’t need it. He’d memorized the names. Knew the gaps those names left behind. They’d left for this mission with one hundred and forty two people on board.

“Taitt?” Cavit said. “Let’s start with you.”

They’d lost eighteen crew—nineteen, if you counted their “observer” Tom Paris—and the hardest hit, beyond the the loss of the captain herself, had been Taitt’s department. The EPS relays on deck five had erupted, and the science labs had been fully manned at the time.

“We lost five people in Astrogation and Stellar Cartography,” Taitt said, her calm, even voice a balm on the dour mood. “And the entirety of the Life Sciences team.” She paused. “The former we can make work, though in a crunch I’d appreciate the latitude to draw on cross-trained personnel?”

Cavit nodded. “Of course.”

“The latter is a bigger issue.” Taitt shook her head. “I’ve talked it over with Dr. Fitzgerald, and between him and Ensign T’Prena, we’ll have enough expertise amongst us to handle xenobiology in a crunch.” She lifted a PADD of her own. “And apparently, Ensign Bronowski took science extension classes at the academy in botany, xenobotany, and agricultural engineering.”

“Doug studied plants?” Stadi said, surprised. “I had no idea.”

“Is he better at plants than he is at the accordion?” Honigsberg asked, stroking his beard.

“Don’t be cruel, Alex,” Cavit said. The rest of the table, with the exception of Taitt, all stared at him. “Okay, we’ll hope for the best, but he couldn’t be worse.” He tapped his own PADD. “Stadi, we could alternate his evening conn shifts, schedule him some time in the labs if we need him?”

“I’m sure Ensign Jenkins would jump at the chance for more conn time,” Stadi said, checking her own notes. She nodded at Taitt. “It should be doable. Relief conn officers will also be available for astrogation,” she added, making it clear this was something she had already told her officers to expect.

“Thank you.” Taitt blew out a breath. “That’s the worst of it. Physics, chemistry, most of the other sciences we’ve either got cross-trained science officers or enough people with a solid background in other departments. These are my formal suggestions.” She handed Cavit her PADD, and he took it, noting her requests.

He turned to Honigsberg. “Alex?”

“I lost Crewman Mendez and Lieutenant Carey,” Honigsberg said, and his usual air of amusement faded completely. “They were both good men, and I won’t lie: losing Carey hurts, he was my assistant and we spoke each other’s shorthand. Lieutenant Durst really stepped up to the plate, though, and I think we can get there. His former CO on the Lakota had nothing but good things to say, and he rose to the occasion when I was off the ship. I’m good with him, and I’ve spread the duties and shifts around among the junior staff.”

“Good,” Cavit said. “And Voyager herself?”

“That’s less ideal. Engine efficiency is down just shy of ten percent. We’ve shut down nonessential systems to compensate, but we need to top up reserves. Soon.”

“Priority on that, Taitt,” Cavit said.

“Yes, sir,” Taitt said. “This whole sector is resource poor, but if there’s something out there, we’ll find it.”

“How did it go with the holodeck reactors?” Cavit said.

“We blew the relays,” Honigsberg said. “It was a doomed idea, but we gave it our best. They weren’t designed to be compatible.”

“More rations for dinner, then?” Stadi said.

“Replicators take too much power,” Honigsberg said, with a little shrug.

“About that,” Taitt said, leaning forward. “Daggin’s group suggested a garden. He and Kes, especially, were eager to find ways to contribute, and it’s what they did back in their offshoot from the Ocampa settlement.”

“Cargo bay two would work,” Honigsberg said. “It’s set up for organic storage and has adjustable environmental controls.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Cavit said. “Have them get started.”

“Use Ensign Bronowski, too,” Stadi suggested to Taitt, who nodded.

“Another option for power might not be as popular,” Honigsberg said. “But if we condense crew quarters and buddy up, we could shut down two decks and re-route that to propulsion.”

Cavit exhaled. “You’re right. It won’t be popular. But I’m sure if we lead by example, it’ll take some of the sting out.”

Honigsberg winced. “I see what you did there.”

“I’ll double up, too, Alex.”

“No, Captain. We’ll let you keep your privacy,” Honigsberg said. “But the rest of us can cope.”

“How about medical. Doctor?” Cavit said, deciding to keep the win.

To his credit, Doctor Fitzgerald didn’t dodge around the issue. “I’m not capable of fulfilling every aspect of my role,” he said, raising his left hand. A series of small silver rings and bands connecting them were fit over his fingers and thumb, as well as around his wrist. “But between Nurse T’Prena and the EMH? We’ll make it work.” He eyed the table for a moment. “I’m not going to recover the use of my hand without extensive medical intervention, and it’s not something we have access to here and now.” His returned his gaze to Cavit. “You already knew that, but I don’t think we need to keep it from the crew. Better they know now than if they need help in sickbay and I hand them over to the world’s grumpiest hologram.”

“Yeah, about that,” Honigsberg said. “You want me to try and fix his personality somewhat?”

Fitzgerald shook his head. “I think he’ll do for now. But I’ll keep it in mind. Besides, I like being the funny one.”

“Wait,” Honigsberg said. “You’re funny?”

“That brings us to the big topic,” Cavit said, before the two men could start a one-upmanship. “We’re missing an Ops Officer, a Tactical Officer, and a First Officer.”

The table fell into a weighty silence.

“The short version is this,” Cavit said. “I’m thinking of placing Ensign Rollins on tactical—Tuvok suggested him to cover his absence and honestly, his performance has been everything I’d expect from someone Tuvok suggested. As for ops?” He nodded at Honigsberg. “Alex and I think Ensign Swinn’s doing a decent job so far, but it wouldn’t hurt to rotate the position like some of the larger ships do with conn. So if you have anyone in your departments you think could benefit from the experience and maybe wow me, let me know.”

Heads bobbed. The silence returned.

“As for a first officer,” Cavit said. “I have some thoughts, and—”

“Bridge to Captain Cavit.” It was Rollins.

Cavit tilted his head. “Go ahead.”

“Captain, we’re within sensor range of the rendezvous.” Rollins paused. “There’s no sign of the Li Nalas.”

“Acknowledged,” Cavit said, rising. “I guess we’ll just keep those betting pools going a bit longer.”

Everyone filed out for the bridge.

Chapter Text

Daggin looked around the cargo bay and considered. It would definitely be large enough, especially if they could come up with multi-platform risers for the plants they intended to grow.

Ensign Bronowski led Daggin, Gara, Cir, and Eru to a large wall panel. “These are the environmental controls,” the man said. He tapped the screen, and Daggin watched the series of nested menus rearrange themselves on the display. “Once you decide what seeds you want, we can make sure the cargo bay atmosphere is optimized for their growth.”

“I made a list,” Daggin said, holding out a PADD and smiling at the man. Doug Bronowski seemed very organized and polite, if a bit serious, but Daggin thought perhaps some of that came from the situation he and his people were in.

Certainly, something to eat other than the Starfleet rations could only improve the general mood.

“You already looked at the options I sent you?” Bronowski said. Now he seemed surprised.

“We read them as soon as we got them,” Daggin said, gesturing to Cir. The larger Ocampa nodded.

“And Doctor Fitzgerald gave us a text explaining nutritional information requirements,” Gara said.

“And another on the different nutritional needs of the species on board Voyager,” Eru added.

“These are the best combinations of speed of growth, nutritional need, and, I hope, flavour.” Daggin was still holding out the PADD. “We can add more as we go, but starting with these is best.”

Bronowski took it, and tapped the screen. “You read the entire catalog last night, and chose based on the whole crew?” He took a glance at their selections, and blinked.

“Did we miss something?” Daggin asked, sharing a nervous glance with the other Ocampa. They were eager to prove themselves to the crew, and if they’d already made a mistake, that wouldn’t be ideal.

Bronowski shook his head. “No. No, not at all. I’m… just impressed at how fast you got through all that information. That was… a lot.”

“Oh.” Daggin couldn’t help a proud smile. “Thank you.”

The human nodded, seemingly shaking off the surprise. “If you follow me, I think we can replicate the growing beds. Captain Cavit said this was considered a priority, and if you’re all ready to go, we might as well get started.” He paused. “We’ll need nitrogenated soil samples.”

“Abol went to sickbay for them,” Daggin said. “He said he’d join us here after.”

Bronowski smiled, and this time it didn’t have the confused edge to it from before. “Okay then. Follow me.”

Daggin and the others followed the ensign. Cir met his gaze.

This is going well, I think? Cir’s telepathic voice was always a bit softer than his vocalizations. He was the largest of all of them, and could sometimes seem imposing, though he was easily the gentlest as well.

I think you’re right, Daggin replied, mind-to-mind.

This one doesn’t laugh or smile much, Gara added. According to what the nutrition texts told us about humans, do you think he would appreciate it if we suggest he consume more vitamin-D?

Maybe we should wait until we’ve grown the mushrooms, Eru replied.

“Ensign,” Daggin said. “Do you think it will be possible for us to become crew?”

“As in…?” Bronowski took a breath, gesturing to his red shouldered uniform and combadge. “Oh. Uh. That’s… a good question. I, uh, I can ask about that.”

Definitely wait until we’ve grown the mushrooms, Daggin thought.

The others agreed.

*

“Computer, activate the Emergency Medical Hologram,” Doctor Fitzgerald said.

“Please state the nature of the medical emergency,” the doctor said, appearing with the tell-tale shimmer.

“No emergency,” Fitzgerald said, holding up one hand. “We’re just checking our work.”

“No emergency,” the hologram repeated, in what almost passed for a tired voice. “Again.”

Fitzgerald couldn’t help the little smile forming in the corner of his mouth. He turned to Lieutenant Durst, who was staring at the holographic doctor with his mouth a little open.

“His bedside manner isn’t the greatest,” Fitzgerald said.

“In the case of an actual emergency,” the hologram said, “my bedside manner will pale in comparison to the five million medical protocols my program includes.”

“Healthy ego, though,” Durst said.

The EMH snorted in a pretty convincing approximation of frustration. “What can I do for you, gentlemen?”

“I asked Lieutenant Durst if he’d be willing to modify your access subroutines to give you instant access to crew records if you need them,” Doctor Fitzgerald said. “Since we’re potentially going to have to rely on you for more than emergency situations, rather than filling you in on every patient’s history whenever you’re activated, I thought it might be easier for you to have access when you need it.”

The EMH blinked. “I see. I take it, then, that we are still no closer to home and your manual dexterity and tactile awareness remains compromised?”

Fitzgerald swallowed, trying not to let the EMH’s brusque manner get to him. Or, rather, his all-too-true pronouncement. “That’s correct.”

The EMH turned to Durst. “You’re a holographic specialist?”

Durst, to his credit, offered a polite smile. “Propulsion, actually.”

“I’m a doctor, not a warp core.”

“I can handle a few access issues,” Durst said. “Besides, it’s nice to play with systems engineering now and then.”

“Play with systems engineering?” The EMH’s voice grew more strident.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Fitzgerald said, pretending not to notice the widening of Durst’s hazel eyes.

He left them by the projector, and went into his office, chuckling.

The door to sickbay opened, and he glanced up, wondering if there was an emergency, but it was just one of the Ocampa. The young man, Abol, he thought, looked around, saw the EHM and Durst, then glanced into the office and smiled at Fitzgerald.

Abol had a very engaging smile.

“Doctor,” he said, stepping into the office. “I’m told you can help me.”

“Is everything all right?” Fitzgerald said.

“I’m healthy, thank you.” He certainly looked it. He wasn’t as tall as Daggin, the one Fitzgerald couldn’t help but think of as the Ocampa’s “leader,” but he had a wider build that gave him presence. “I’m here for the soil samples?” Abol phrased it like a question.

“Oh, of course. Follow me.” Fitzgerald hadn’t expected the garden project to progress quite so quickly. He led the man into the lab, where T’Prena was working on a culture. At the sight of her, the Ocampa man paused.

“You are a Vulcan, correct?”

T’Prena looked up from her work. “That is correct.”

“Our plans for the garden will provide everything we need to make plomeek soup.”

T’Prena’s eyebrow rose. It was a reveal of mild surprise that Fitzgerald hadn’t seen often in the their year together on Voyager’s shakedown.

“You already know what you’re planning to grow?” Fitzgerald said, pulling out the biological sample shelf and looking for the soil samples he’d begun the night before.

“We read through what was available last night, and myself and Eru and Gara finished the documents you sent us about the nutritional needs of the crew,” Abol said. “Plomeek soup is excellent for Vulcan physiology, especially given how the temperature settings on Voyager favour the human crew.”

Both Fitzgerald and T’Prena had turned to the man now. Fitzgerald realized he was all but staring. T’Prena’s appraisal was more Vulcan than that, but no less intrigued.

“You read everything I sent you?” Fitzgerald said.

“Yes,” the man nodded, clearly having enjoyed himself. “It was really interesting. On Ocampa, we cared more about flavour in the food we grew, but we had the Caretaker to rely on for our nutritional needs, and we didn’t have access to the level of detail you gave us.” He tilted his head. “I’m looking forward to trying spinach, in particular.”

Fitzgerald didn’t know what to say to that. He finished picking up the small spheres of nitrogenated soil, turning to give them to Abol. “This should be enough to get you started…”

He dropped one of the spheres.

Abol managed to catch it with a deft grab. 

Fitzgerald stared at his left hand. His concentration must have lapsed just enough to stop sending the signals through the neural transmitter bands. He took a long, slow breath, feeling a tremor threatening along his left forearm, and handed the rest of the spheres of dirt over with more care.

Abol regarded him, his dark brown eyes soft with concern.

“Good catch,” Fitzgerald managed, putting some cheer back into his voice.

Abol opened his mouth to say something, but T’Prena spoke.

“If I understand, you cross-referenced the needs of the various species of the crew with the ships stores, and interpolated which combinations would be optimal for nutrition in this particular environment,” T’Prena said. The nurse wasn’t asking a question, exactly, but it turned Abol’s attention back to her.

“Yes,” Abol said. He tilted his head slightly. “Vulcans are telepathic, yes? And also Betazoids? Lieutenant Stadi is a Betazoid.”

“That is correct.”

“Ocampa are telepaths,” Abol said, nodding once to himself, then seeming to realize he was still standing there, holding the dirt samples. “I’m sorry. I have a tendency to allow my thoughts to get the better of me. I should get back to the cargo bay.” He nodded his head in farewell, and was gone.

“The Ocampa would seem to have a remarkable ability to absorb new information,” T’Prena said, going back to her culture sample.

“That’s one way of putting it,” Fitzgerald said. “And thank you, by the way.” She hadn’t had to dive in there with that change of subject after his fumble.

“Doctor?” T’Prena’s expression was completely blank.

Right. He smiled, regardless. “What did you make of his mention of telepathy?”

“Curiosity, I believe.” T’Prena turned back to him. “Though I don’t have enough of an impression of Abol—or any of the Ocampa—to form a true hypothesis.”

“But,” Fitzgerald said. He knew T’Prena well enough to know her intellectual interest had been piqued.

“My understanding is they believe they once had greater range of psionic ability,” T’Prena said. “It’s likely they are seeking out similarly gifted species in hopes of learning more about themselves. Certainly, I imagine they could learn from Vulcan techniques.”

“It would be a good reason to spend time with him.” Fitzgerald latched the biological sample shelf closed. “Also, he’s really handsome.”

“His aesthetic appeal has nothing to do with it,” T’Prena said, her attention back on her culture sample.

“Of course it doesn’t,” Fitzgerald said, heading back to his office, another little smile tucked in the corner of his mouth.

*

Ro didn’t realize how long she’d been staring at the viewscreen, remembering a time she’d been trapped on the bridge of the Enterprise with Chief O’Brien and Counsellor Troi—a lifetime ago, it felt like now—until the call came from engineering.

“Tamal to bridge.”

“Go ahead.”

“We’ve finished compensating for the distortions. We’re ready to give the tractor beam a try.”

Ro rose from the command chair. “Vance, keep our position steady.”

“Will do.”

Ro exchanged a glance with Cing’ta. “Keep trying to hail them. The moment we get that ship out of the worst of the distortions, we’ll need them to work with us for them to fully escape.”

The Bolian nodded.

“Engage the tractor beam,” Ro said.

“Engaging,” Lan said.

On the viewscreen, the beam seemed to waver in and out of existence as it reached for the ship caught in the singularity.

“It’s working,” Lan said. “The tractor beam is reaching the event horizon. And crossing it.”

Ro smiled. “Good work.”

The Li Nalas lurched violently. Ro grabbed at the chair, managing to hold herself upright before sliding into it. “Report.”

“There’s some kind of fluctuation forming in the beam,” Lan said.

Tamal’s voice came over the comm. “Ro, it’s going to fuse the relays!”

“We’re not pulling them out, it’s pulling us in,” Vance said. “I’m trying to hold our position, but I’m losing ground here.”

The ship lurched again. And again. At Lan’s station, a panel shorted, sending a spray of sparks. She flinched back but kept her seat. “The fluctuations are getting worse.”

“Cut the tractor beam,” Ro said.

Lan worked her panel, then cursed. “It won’t disengage. It’s like there’s a feedback loop…”

The Li Nalas shuddered. Alarms sounded. The shuddering continued.

“If I keep trying to hold us still, the hull is going to fracture,” Vance said.

“Tamal?” Ro said.

“Hang on,” the man said.

“Hull stress is approaching tolerance,” Cing’ta said.

“Cut the engines,” Ro said.

“Done,” Vance said. The rumbling shake didn’t completely cease, but it was nowhere near as bad.

A second later, it did stop.

“The tractor beam disengaged,” Lan said.

“Good job, Tamal,” Ro said.

“I cut it with a phaser,” Tamal replied.

Ro let out a little laugh. “It got the job done.” She looked at the viewscreen. The singularity, and the blurry ship, were larger on the screen now. Closer.

“Vance, pull us back.” She turned to Kes. The Ocampa had been quiet the entire time. “Do you sense anything from them? Can you reach your friends?”

She shook her head. “I’m not even sure it’s them.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s not,” Cing’ta said. “I can’t decode that garbled transmission, but the more I try, the more I’m convinced it’s not a Federation ship.”

“In that case,” Ro said, relieved. “Let’s go get Voyager and bring her back here. She’s likely more capable of helping than we are. Vance, lay in a course to the rendezvous. Best speed.”

“You got it,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” Kes said. “I wish I could be more…” She shook her head, frowning. “Helpful.”

“Are you all right?” Ro said.

“I’m…” Kes’s eyes fluttered, and she tipped. Ro got to her feet just in time to catch her. The Ocampa slumped against her. “Dizzy…” she said.

“Bridge to Sullivan. Meet me in sickbay,” Ro said. She started lead Kes to the door. “Let me know when you contact Voyager,” she added, over her shoulder.

Cing’ta nodded.

*

“Let me guess,” Sullivan said. “Headaches and dizziness?”

Ro glanced around the small sickbay. Three other people were already in the room, along with Sullivan. Santos was lying down on the bio-bed, though it wasn’t activated, his eyes closed. Sveta and Stiles were sitting on the floor, their backs to the wall.

“What’s happening?” Ro said.

“I’m not sure,” Sullivan said, scanning Kes with her tricorder. “There’s no infection or illness, but their balance is off. Their inner ears can’t seem to tell which way is up.” She eyed Ro. “Those bumps were interesting. Do I want to know?”

“The quantum singularity. Tractor beam didn’t work.” Ro gestured to the people around them. “Can you help them?”

“Space-sickness drugs seem to be working to counter the symptoms,” Sullivan said. “Sveta and Stiles crawled in here, and now they’re sitting up.”

Sveta made a noise that might have passed for agreement.

“If it’s anything to do with the quantum singularity, we’re leaving it behind,” Ro said.

“Good idea,” Sullivan said. He adjusted a hypospray and pressed it against Kes’s shoulder. After a moment, Kes opened her eyes.

“You going to be all right?” Ro said to Kes.

The Ocampa nodded. “That’s much better.”

“You bounce back faster than Santos,” Sullivan said.

“Everyone does,” Ro said.

“I heard that,” Santos said, in a voice that could only be described as miserable.

The ship lurched.

“I thought you said we were leaving that thing behind?” Sullivan said.

“We were.” Ro reached over to the wall panel and opened a channel to the bridge. “Report.”

“You might want to get up here,” Lan said.

“On my way.”

*

“Another type-four quantum singularity?” Ro said. She was no stellar cartographer, but that seemed unlikely.

“No. Look,” Lan showed her the readings. “These are the readings from the first singularity. Here’s the readings from this new one.”

Lan manipulated the controls, and the two readings slid over each other, matching each other curve for curve.

“They’re identical,” Ro said.

“Vance?” Ro said.

“Navigational sensors say we’re right back where we started,” he turned in his chair. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s the same singularity,” Lan said.

Chapter Text

“Keep an eye on the sensors,” Ro said.

“We’re ten million klicks off,” Vance said.

“So far so good,” Lan said.

“Eleven million,” Vance said.

Ro took a breath.

“Twelve—” Vance started, but Lan cut him off.

“It’s dead ahead again.” The Trill shook her head, clearly frustrated. “Same profile, same singularity.”

“All stop,” Ro said.

“Tamal to bridge.”

Ro shared a glance with Lan before she raised her head. “Go ahead.”

“The pressure on the hull is increasing. I think we’re looking at about six hours before we start to lose hull integrity.” He took a moment. “And I just sent Li-Paz to sick-bay.”

“Take whoever you need,” Ro said.

“Understood.” The channel closed.

“What do we do?” Cing’ta stared at the viewscreen, where the quantum singularity dominated the view, its warped rings of distortion rippling.

“Keep sending out distress calls,” Ro said. “Voyager will be looking for us. We’re late for the rendezvous.”

“I’m all for getting rescued,” Cing’ta said, “but I don’t think my signals are getting through. Or out. Or whatever is going on with space right now.”

“Keep working on it,” Ro said.

He nodded, and turned back to his console.

Ro got out of her chair and crossed to Lan. “Any luck?”

“I’ve got four lifetimes of memories, but none of my previous hosts cared very much about quantum singularities,” Lan said. “From an engineering point of view? All I can tell you is the distortions are fooling the sensors into thinking we’re escaping when we’re not—I’m not sure how, and I barely understand half the things the sensors are saying.”

Ro looked over her shoulder and felt much the same way at the results of her scans. They were Maquis, not scientists. And they were flying in a Cardassian border patrol vessel, not a scientific ship. It stacked the deck against them.

The bridge door opened and to Ro’s surprise, Kes stepped through.

“Are you feeling better?” Ro said.

Kes nodded. “Much. Rebecca said as long as I came back if I had more symptoms, she was okay with me returning to the bridge. I’d like to keep trying to reach the other ship.” Not for the first time, Ro had the impression that Kes was a creature of empathy. She reminded her, in some ways, of Deanna Troi, though that might just be the way Kes seemed to see much more than was going on in front of her.

But in Troi, it had often been unnerving, making Ro feel uncomfortable and exposed and often putting her on edge. Somehow, with Kes, it made her want to protect the woman.

“All right,” Ro said.

Kes walked to the front of the bridge, standing near Cing’ta, and staring at the viewscreen.

“It’s like an echo,” she said, mostly to herself.

Ro turned back to Lan. “If we’re not actually moving away from the singularity, what’s happening?”

“It’s some sort of other topology,” Lan said. “Like a subspace curve or a torus, even.” She tapped away at the controls. “If we had probes, I’d suggest firing a spread of them to see what they report to each other and us as they travel, but we don’t.”

“Could we modify the Cardassian torpedoes?”

Lan considered. “Maybe. That’s not a bad idea.”

“Give it a shot. We’ve nothing to lose.”

Lan rose from her console, and started for the rear of the bridge.

“We have to compensate…” Kes said, her voice faint at first, and then a bit louder, clearer.

“Kes?” Ro said, crossing the bridge to her.

Lan stopped walking.

“The distortions are… causing alignment to shift out of phase…” Kes tilted her head.

“A phase alignment,” Cing’ta said. “What do you—?”

Kes frowned, as if she was having a hard time hearing something.

Ro put a hand on Cing’ta’s shoulder. He fell silent.

“Compensate for the spacial distortions…” Kes closed her eyes. Her hands had closed into fists. “With a dampening field… to filter out… the phase variance…” Her eyes snapped open, and she shook her head, turning to Ro.

“It was Daggin and the others,” she said, relief in her voice. “And someone else, I think, but definitely them.”

“So it is Voyager trapped in here with us,” Cing’ta said.

“Lan? Did that clear anything up for you?” Ro said.

Lan was already back at her station. “It did.” She was already working. “If I can isolate the phase variance at play…” She took a few more seconds. “Okay. A dampening field should filter out the worst of it. Cing, try filtering the original message we got from Voyager through this dampening process.” She tapped a few more times, then looked up.

“Got it,” Cing’ta said. He went to work, then nodded. “This is looking like a much smoother signal. Here we go.” He tapped his console.

“This is Ro Laren of the Li Nalas. We couldn’t make out your previous message. Do you need assistance?”

Ro turned to him. “Not our signal, Cing. The one we got from the other ship.”

But Cing’ta was shaking his head. “That is the signal we got from the other ship.”

“Cing—“ Ro began.

“He’s right,” Lan said. She frowned. “Let me apply the dampening field to the sensors. Maybe we can get a better look at what’s going on out there and… that should do it.” She looked up at the viewscreen, and blew out a breath.

Ro took a long moment with what she saw there. On the screen, much clearer with the distortion rings more-or-less dealt with, sat the Li Nalas.

“That’s… us.” Cing’ta said.

“It is,” Ro said. “Lan?”

The Li Nalas on the screen was absolutely the same as them. It couldn’t even be another Hideki class ship—which, given their location, was borderline impossible—given they could see the red Maquis symbols Li-Paz had taken the time to mark clearly on the hull.

“I… have no explanation,” Lan said. “Let me try a few variations on those phase dampeners.”

“Where’s Voyager?” Vance said.

“Kes?” Ro turned to the Ocampa. She was the only one who’d had any success getting through to anyone outside the singularity.

“I’m not sure,” Kes said. “I know it was Daggin and the others. I’m certain of it.”

“Ro?” Cing’ta cleared this throat. The big man looked uncomfortable.

She raised an eyebrow. “Whatever you’re about to say, I’m not going to like it, am I, Cing?”

The Bolian raised both hands, but he didn’t argue.

Ro regarded the ship—her ship—on the screen a moment longer. “Let me hear it.”

*

Cavit had been on the bridge for nearly two hours, and there was no sign of the Li Nalas. He tapped a finger against the PADD he was holding, unnerved. Long-range sensors should have picked up something by now. They could sweep almost all the way to where Kes’s friend had been, back in the debris belts.

“Still nothing,” Ensign Swinn said, manning ops.

Cavit rose, walking the short distance to the science station, where Taitt was working.

“Any ideas?” he said, keeping his voice low enough, he hoped, not to betray his frustration.

“The only idea I have isn’t one you’re going to like,” Taitt said. “And I don’t like it much either.”

“That they left?” Cavit said.

She looked at him in surprise.

“It already occurred to me,” Cavit said. “But it doesn’t track. Ro knows the tactical advantage of the two of us working together, if nothing else. The Li Nalas can’t go as far, or as fast, without us. And Kes. I can’t believe she’d take Kes, and I don’t believe Kes would go willingly and leave the rest of her people here on Voyager.”

Taitt nodded. “I agree.” She turned back to her readings, then frowned. “Wait. I’ve got something. I’ve found the warp trail of the Li Nalas. It’s…” She blinked. “Gone.”

“Gone?” Cavit said.

“It was right there, and then…” She tapped her console. “There. See?”

Cavit nodded. The warp trail was there, but it just ended. And then a moment later, the whole thing seemed to vanish, almost as if it fell behind a blindspot.

“Let’s check it out,” Cavit said. “Relay the co-ordinates to conn.”

“Aye, sir,” Taitt said.

“Co-ordinates received,” Stadi said. “Course laid in.”

“Best speed Stadi. Engage,” Cavit said.

*

Time seemed to crawl as they approached the co-ordinates where the Li Nalas seemed to have vanished into thin air, and the warp trail didn’t reappear, which was all the more disturbing. They were approaching from a near head-on trajectory.

“I’m picking up subspace distortions,” Taitt said, breaking the tense silence that had fallen on the bridge over the journey. “Directly ahead.”

“I see it,” Stadi said.

“Drop out of warp,” Cavit said. “If something happened to the Li Nalas, let’s not repeat it.”

Voyager dropped out of warp.

“It’s a highly localized disturbance in the space-time continuum,” Taitt said. “Forty thousand kilometres ahead. It’s putting out some massive gravimetric flux. I’d estimate density is over two thousand percent.” She looked at Cavit. “Type four quantum singularity.”

“Can you put it on screen?” Cavit said.

“Aye, sir.” She did, but what appeared on the screen was blurred and distorted.

“No sign of the Li Nalas?” Cavit said.

“No sir, though they approached from the opposite side of the event horizon. This is what was masking the warp trail.” Taitt kept working. “We’d need to compensate for the distortion the singularity is tossing out to get a clear picture of what’s going on around it.”

“Bridge to engineering,” Cavit said.

“Engineering,” Honigsberg’s voice came over the channel.

“We’re staring down a type four quantum singularity, and we need a better view.”

“I noticed,” Honigsberg said. “I’ll get started.”

*

“Carrots,” Abol said, dropping seeds into the holes in the soil. The word was a delight on the tongue. When he turned, he saw Ensign Bronowski regarding him.

“Is that the last of the seeds?” Abol said.

“We’re all set,” Bronowski said. “We just need to adjust the environmental controls for the bay, and I’d say airponics is officially online.” Around them, the cargo bay was completely transformed. It had taken hours of work, but rows of sleek silver stands now held multiple platforms of planted soil.

Cir was wiping his hands on a cloth. “It feels good to garden again,” he said.

Abol agreed, at least he thought he did, but he noticed the sheer satisfaction of doing the job was less than he expected. He couldn’t put his finger on it, though, so he smiled and nodded at the larger man.

“Do you need me to walk you through it again?” Bronowski said, his voice just a little louder than it perhaps needed to be. Abol turned, and saw Eru and Gara were already at the environmental control panel.

“Humidity is here,” Gara said, tapping the controls. “Which we’ll need to raise.” She slid her finger up the screen.

“And this is temperature,” Eru said, working the other half of the console. “And this average should work the best for this first crop.”

The two women looked up.

Ensign Bronowski had a familiar look on his face again. Abol had noticed it a few times now. It was a mix of surprise and something else, but which might have been disbelief. He wasn’t sure, and while many of the humans they’d met so far were quite approachable and friendly, Ensign Bronowski was more standoffish and a bit stiff in comparison.

Certainly, he didn’t have the warmth or charm of Doctor Fitzgerald, or Lieutenant Taitt.

“That’s… that’s right,” Bronowski said. “You remembered.” He eyed the group. “Well. I’ll tell the Captain everything is underway. Good work, everyone.” He nodded, and Abol got the sense they’d been dismissed.

“Let’s go back to our quarters,” Daggin suggested. “We can clean up.” Most of them had gotten at least a little dirt on themselves.

They’d left the airponics bay and were half-way to the turbo lifts when Abol stopped walking, suddenly.

“Kes,” he said. For just a moment, he’d felt her reaching out to him.

Did you feel that?

Yes. Daggin replied. Eru nodded.

When Abol looked up, he saw both Eru and Daggin had also paused. Cir and Gara turned, frowning at them.

I didn’t feel anything, Cir noted.

The feeling washed over Abol again. It was definitely Kes, and she was… reaching out to him? Trying to find him? He closed his eyes on some instinct, and that helped. Yes. It was easier to concentrate without visual interruption, and…

It stopped.

This time, when he opened his eyes, the same look was on all of his friends’ faces.

“We need to go to the bridge,” Daggin said.

Abol agreed.

*

“Captain,” Stadi said.

Cavit turned to her. She was looking at the viewscreen. He glanced up and stared.

In the distance, a ship approached the anomaly, apparently on the other side of the singularity.

“Is that the Li Nalas?” Cavit squinted, but it was too hard to see through the distortions.

“Scans still aren’t penetrating the event horizon,” Swinn said.

“Cavit to Honigsberg,” Cavit said. “I don’t want to rush you, chief, but how’s it going?”

“I’m on my way to the bridge right now. We’ll need to put a dampening field over our sensors and communications to compensate for the distortion, and—“ The turbolift opened, and Honigsberg stepped out. “—that should give us a clear view and a way to hail the Li Nalas, if they’re there.”

“It looks like they just arrived,” Stadi said.

Honigsberg squinted at the viewscreen, rubbing his goatee. “Ah. Well, let’s clear that up, shall we?” He crossed the bridge to the engineering station and started working.

The turbolift opened again, and this time, the five Ocampa came out.

Cavit turned, surprised. Daggin was in the lead, as usual, and Cavit almost reminded the Ocampa the bridge was for officers only, but then he realized they looked upset.

“Daggin?” he said.

“You said you couldn’t find the Li Nalas,” Daggin said. “But we know Kes is near.”

“We can feel her,” Eru added, the small blond Ocampa tilting her head. “Or, we felt her. Just now.”

Cavit glanced at Stadi.

“They made contact telepathically,” she said, then eyed the viewscreen herself. “I don’t sense anything, but then, it’s possible the distortions don’t affect them.”

“I’m bringing the dampeners online,” Honigsberg said. “Sensors should be clearing up in a moment.”

They all turned to the viewscreen and waited. After a moment, the distortions began to smooth away, and they saw another starship, hanging across from them in space.

It wasn’t, however, the Li Nalas.

It was Voyager.

“Alex?” Cavit said, frowning.

Honigsberg checked his readings again, then shook his head.

Cavit crossed his arms.

Apparently, they’d arrived in time to meet themselves.

"It's Voyager," Stadi said.

“No, that’s not us,” Taitt said. “That was us.”

"Time travel?" Rollins asked from tactical.

“No," Taitt said, "But I think I know what happened to the Li Nalas.”

Chapter Text

“Imagine the quantum singularity is at the very centre of a reflective sphere,” Taitt said, stepping out from behind her station and moving to the centre of the bridge. “Voyager approaches the sphere, and sees itself.”

“But we didn’t see ourselves at first,” Cavit said. “Because of the distortion?”

“No. Or, not exactly,” Taitt said. “Because instead of reflecting light and what’s going on in space, the event horizon of the quantum singularity reflects time. And the trajectory of Voyager as it approached the singularity happened to be one where the reflected view is of the past. But once we got here and held position, eventually the surface of the sphere showed us arriving.”

“Okay,” Cavit said. “And the Li Nalas?”

“Their warp trail came almost directly at the quantum singularity, but from the other side somewhere, and I think they crossed the threshold—it would explain why their warp trail just stops. And if they did, they’re in trouble, because the gravimetric forces inside the singularity’s event horizon will be significant.” She paused. “If they’re inside, they’re running out of time.”

“How do we reach them?”

“That’s the more immediate problem,” Taitt said. “Anything transmitted through the event horizon is going to be distorted. We can dampen to compensate, but if they don’t do the same, there’ll have no idea what we’re even saying.”

“So we can’t co-ordinate.” Honigsberg said.

“I’m not sure how we could,” Taitt said.

“Okay.” Cavit swallowed. “Thanks to Daggin and the others, we can safely assume the Li Nalas is in there.” He turned to Daggin and the other Ocampa. “We’re going to do everything we can to get all of them—including Kes—out safely.”

He had no idea how, but they’d damn well try.

“Is there a way to communicate with them that wouldn’t be affected by the distortion?” Honigsberg said. “Something very basic. The equivalent of semaphore or morse code?”

Taitt thought about it. “Maybe. We’d have to hope they could see whatever we were sending through the event horizon, but…” She frowned. “I’m not sure what would penetrate.”

“Captain?” Daggin said.

“Yes?” Cavit said.

“It’s just…” The man’s voice was hesitant, and his eyes weren’t full of confidence, but he swallowed and started again. “Could we try to get the message to Kes? The five of us?” He gestured to the rest of the Ocampa.

Gara nodded, eager. “Yes. At least, we could try.”

Cavit turned to Taitt. “What would the Li Nalas need to know? Bare minimum.”

“They need to compensate for the way the distortions misalign the phase variance,” Taitt said. “Create a dampening field specific to the distortions as they’re seeing them.”

The Ocampa exchanged glances, nodding to one another, and then, as one, they turned to face the viewscreen.

Seconds ticked by. Cir shook his head first, but one by one, the others sighed or shook their heads or otherwise made it clear they weren’t reaching Kes. The last to give up was Abol, who bit his bottom lip, and took a half-breath before letting it go.

“What is it?” Cavit asked. Clearly Abol wanted to say something.

“I think we need help,” he said. “We are used to communicating across a room. I read in the files Doctor Fitzgerald gave us that other telepathic species are capable of telepathic communication over distances we’ve never tried before.” He tilted his head. “Lieutenant Stadi, you are Betazoid, correct?”

Stadi turned in her chair. “Yes.”

“Do you think you could…” Abol seemed at a loss for the right word. “Do you think you could guide us?”

“Could you?” Cavit said.

Stadi blinked. “I suppose I can try. Have you all worked together in the past? Telepathically?”

Daggin bobbed his head. “Our people, in legend, were said to be capable of great feats. Our group used to explore what we could do, though we weren’t sure what to try and didn’t have much success. Kes believed we could achieve so much more if we just applied ourselves.”

“Eru sometimes feels presences of others in far buildings,” Gara said.

“And Gara can sometimes tell how other people are feeling,” Eru said.

Stadi rose. “I want you all to hold onto a single thought: Kes. Think of her, and only her. If you find your mind wandering, just follow the thought back to Kes. Can you all do that?”

They nodded, and all straightened their poses, clearly concentrating.

Cavit watched. Stadi tilted her head, nodding slowly. “Good, that’s good. First, I’m going to—“

“We’re being hailed, Captain,” Rollins said, clearly surprised. “It’s the Li Nalas.” Then he frowned. “The signal is coming through the lateral sensor buffers.”

“Whatever works. Open the channel.” Cavit glanced at Stadi. “Well done.”

“That wasn’t us.” Stadi shook her head. “We hadn’t even started yet.”

“Li Nalas to Voyager,” the signal wasn’t perfect, heavy with static and there was no visual, but it was clearly the Bolian—Cing’ta.

“We read you, Li Nalas,” Cavit said.

“Thanks for getting the instructions to Kes,” Ro said.

“I’m sorry?” Cavit said.

“For the dampening field,” Ro said.

Cavit looked at Taitt, lost.

“The event horizon,” Taitt said. “If the Li Nalas is experiencing a temporal shift that skews to the future, rather than the past…”

“We are. In fact, we received a hail from ourselves we hadn’t sent yet,” Ro said. “We don’t know how, but that’s why we investigated the anomaly in the first place. We thought we might be rescuing you.”

“Exactly,” Taitt said, nodding.

“I’m sorry,” Rollins said, holding up a hand. “How can they receive a hail they hadn’t sent yet? And we didn’t tell them about the dampening field, so how did they get it?”

“Because we intended to,” Abol said, his voice rising with seemingly genuine excitement.

Rollins looked at him, shaking his head slightly.

Cavit could empathize.

“If I follow what Zandra—Lieutenant Taitt is saying, this now is separate from the now on the Li Nalas,” Abol said, holding his hands apart. “From our point of view, we have not attempted to reach Kes with the information, but from the Li Nalas’s point of view, we have already done so. But it’s not this version of us they’re waiting for, as the us from the now who sent the message is distinct and not reliant upon the us of this particular now.” Abol smiled, then the smile faltered as he saw Rollins looked no less confused. He turned. “Or is that wrong?”

“I have no idea,” Cavit said, glancing at Taitt. He hated this stuff. Paradoxes. Anomalies. As far as he was concerned Starfleet’s orders to stay the hell away from anything to do with time travel were absolutely correct.

“He’s completely right,” Taitt said. “But don’t worry, Captain. This is effect preceding cause. It’s not easy to grasp.”

“Okay. Let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth,” Cavit said, then, seeing some of the Ocampa frown again, he raised his hand. “It means let’s not overanalyze when things are going our way.”

“Ah,” Cir said.

“How do we get them out?” Cavit said.

“The same way they went in,” Taitt said. “Theoretically, when they entered the event horizon, they would have created a… weak point. A fracture in the sphere bending space-time around the singularity.”

“We’re not seeing anything on sensors,” Lan’s voice came over the channel.

“You wouldn’t,” Taitt said. “It would be indistinguishable. And it would be closing. We need to illuminate it, and a way to widen it.”

“A dekyon beam would amplify any instability,” Honigsberg said. “Would that do the trick?”

“Yes, it would,” Taitt said, nodding to herself.

“Can you handle that, Ro?” Cavit asked.

There was a pause. Cavit saw Honigsberg shaking his head, and braced himself for bad news.

“I don’t think so, Captain,” she said. “Tamal thinks he could rig something up with enough time, but the hull stress is already approaching maximum tolerance.”

“We’ll handle it,” Cavit said, nodding at Honigsberg.

“We just need to figure out where the crack is,” Honigsberg said. “We know it’s somewhere on the far side of the singularity from us, but that’s not very specific.”

“To make it visible, we need something we can register on the sensors that would react with the fracture.”

“Something we could use to paint the contours of the instability,” Honigsberg said. “The edges, where it’s most reactive.”

“Right,” Taitt said.

They stared at each other.

“Warp particles!” They said it in unison.

Cavit glanced at Stadi. Stadi gave him a little smile and a barely visible shrug.

“That we can do,” Ro said.

“Saturate the event horizon,” Taitt said. “It’ll be visible from both sides of the event horizon. You can head toward it as soon as it’s visible, and that should lower some of the strain on the hull.”

“Understood.”

“How close would we need to be to emit the dekyon beam?” Cavit said.

“That won’t work,” Taitt said, shaking her head. “Getting close enough with Voyager would pull us in there with the Li Nalas.”

Honigsberg stood up from the engineering station. “She’s right. Our best bet is to equip a shuttle.”

“But if Voyager can’t escape the gravity, a shuttle couldn’t possibly break free,” Stadi said, frowning.

“It won’t have to. The shuttle can dock with the Li Nalas, and the Li Nalas can get everyone out.”

“Are you following all this, Ro?” Cavit said, checking in.

“I understood everything except the part where you haven’t done the thing you did that let us do what we did,” Ro said, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

“We’ll leave the temporal mechanics to the geniuses,” Cavit said. “Prep a shuttle,” he said to Honigsberg, who nodded and started for the turbolift.

“Sir?” Taitt said.

Cavit turned.

“It’s probably best if I’m on the shuttle,” she said. “As soon as the shuttle pierces the event horizon, it would be a good idea to have someone on board who…” Her voice trailed off.

“Understands what the hell is going on?” Cavit said.

Taitt winced. “I was trying to find a better way to put it, sir.”

“It’s your job to be the smartest person in the room, Taitt,” Cavit said, smiling at her. “Alex?”

Honigsberg turned.

“Taitt’s with you.”

They left together.

“We’re releasing the warp particles now,” Ro’s voice came over the channel.

Stadi took conn again.

“Scanning,” Swinn said from ops.

“Take us around the other side of the singularity,” Cavit said to Stadi. “And make sure we keep our distance.”

“Aye, sir.”

Chapter Text

Lieutenant Durst met them in the shuttle bay. Taitt smiled at the engineer, but the tall man barely glanced her way, his attention entirely focused on Honigsberg.

“They found the fracture,” he said. “The shuttle emitter should be capable of widening the fissure. I ran your preflight diagnostic already.”

“Thanks, Pete,” Honigsberg said.

“Anything for my roommate,” Durst said, biting his bottom lip, then patting the chief on the back. He nodded, then headed up to the monitoring room.

Taitt swallowed a smile, not wanting to embarrass Durst, climbing on board the shuttle and sliding into the operations station. When Honigsberg joined her, he glanced at her, and she let the smile out.

“What?” Honigsberg said.

“That man has a crush,” Taitt said.

“Pete?” Honigsberg’s eyes widened. “No. He’s just eager.” He paused, considering. “At least, I think…” His shoulders dropped. “Oh.”

Taitt laughed. A whole journey just happened on Honigberg’s face, and it was one she was going to remember for a good long time.

Honigsberg shook his head. “Well. Shall we?”

“Yes, sir.” She signalled the bridge.

“We’re ready to depart,” Honigsberg said.

“Bay doors open,” Stadi’s voice came over the comm.

Honigsberg piloted the shuttle through the force-field.

“You’re clear,” Durst’s voice had returned to something far more professional. “Good luck.”

“Activating shields,” Taitt said.

“There,” Honigsberg said. They could see the edge of the event horizon through the distortions it put off, and ahead of them, a thin wedge shimmered with warp particles.

“As soon as we get close enough,” Taitt said. “I’ll activate the dekyon beam. We’ll have to reposition once we’re drawn inside, but the longer the dekyon beam is on the rupture, the better.” She eyed her readings. “It’s only thirty meters wide.”

“We need twice that for the Li Nalas,” Honigsberg said. He rubbed his beard with one hand, then set the shuttle on an intercept. “We’re about a minute out from the first waves of distortion.”

Almost to the second, the shuttle lurched.

“Shields are holding,” Taitt said. “Initiating Dekyon beam. Can you hold us on this side of the rupture?”

“No. We’re already drifting, and I’ve got us at full impulse. It’s going to come down to hull stress. I’ll let you know when I’m about to let go.”

“The dekyon beam is working. The fracture is starting to widen.”

The shuttle shuddered again.

“So. Roommates, are you?” Taitt said, going back to the topic of Durst.

“We’re all doubling up for power conservation,” Honigsberg said. “You know that. Okay, I’m going to have to cut the engines in thirty seconds. Hang on while we go through. This could get bumpy.”

Taitt thought bumpy was understating it by quite a bit. They both had to grip their panels while the shuttle bounced through the event horizon. The spacial distortions were worse on the other side.

“Shields are at eighty percent,” Taitt said. “Reinitializing the dekyon beam.” After a few more seconds, the beam engaged. “It’s working again. Forty meters. Forty two.” She eyed him. “Room assignment was up to each department. Was it his suggestion to be roommates, or yours?”

“Forty five,” Honigsberg said. Then, almost grudgingly, “his.”

“Definitely a crush,” Taitt said. “Fifty.” She smiled. “This is going to work.”

The shuttle lurched, hard. Taitt braced herself, and Honigsberg worked the conn. “The spacial distortions are reacting with the rupture. The bigger we make it, the worse they’re going to get.”

“Shields are at sixty—” The shuttle jolted. “Fifty percent.” Another shockwave ran through the shuttle, and system alerts lit up on her console. “Thirty percent.”

“Sixty meters,” Honigsberg said. “I’d like to give them more…”

“We’re losing shields,” Taitt said.

“Cut the dekyon beam.”

Taitt shut the beam down. “Sixty three meters,” she said. “It’ll be tight, but it’ll be enough for the…” she trailed off when she saw him looking through the viewscreen of the shuttle, a line between his eyebrows.

She followed his gaze.

“Oh,” she said.

A pair of Li Nalas ships hung in space before them.

*

“It’s the inner surface of the quantum singularity,” Taitt said. “It’s reflecting the Li Nalas.”

“Right,” Honigsberg said. “But they both show up on sensors, so which one are we heading for?”

Taitt tapped open a comm. “Shuttlecraft to Li Nalas,” she said.

There was no reply. She frowned, and glanced down. “We lost the dampener.”

Honigsberg took a breath. “There’s already a metre’s worth of closure on the fracture. We don’t have time to chase the wrong ship.”

“The Li Nalas distortion was future oriented,” Taitt said, closing her eyes to concentrate. “So… That means the Li Nalas that’s closest to the fracture is the wrong ship.”

“But didn’t we tell them to go toward the fracture?”

“Yes, but both ships are already on their way, see?” She pointed. “But the ship in the lead is closer, so it’s been moving longer. So that’s the Li Nalas where we’re already aboard. Or we will be, once we get on that ship.”

Honigsberg held her gaze for a second, then turned his attention back to the conn. “Laying in a course for the further ship.”

They didn’t speak again until they were right alongside the Li Nalas and the cargo bay door opened, revealing a single, not-very-large empty space meant for cargo, not shuttles.

“You up for that?” Taitt said. Perhaps her plan to hitch a ride with the Li Nalas wasn’t a great one.

“I’m good,” Honigsberg said, guiding the ship in without tractors to assist, and landing the shuttle with only a metre or two to spare all around them.

“Nice landing,” Taitt said. “I see what Durst sees in you.”

The doors closed behind them, and Honigsberg scanned. “The bay is pressurizing. And you are never going to let me live this down, are you?”

“It’s like you’ve known me all my life, Lieutenant.” Taitt said. She slid out of the seat, crouching in the low cabin of the shuttle. “Let’s get to the bridge.”

*

One of the Li Nalas crew met them outside the cargo bay, and she led them to the bridge. They stepped onto the bridge and looked at the viewscreen.

“How are we doing?” Honigsberg said.

“It’s fifty-eight meters wide and closing,” Ro said.

Taitt winced. “That’s not enough, is it?” She considered. “If we take the shuttle back out, maybe we can widen the fracture some more?”

“No,” Ro said. “You barely made it on board.” The Bajoran eyed the two. “We’re going to try this the Maquis way. I’m going to suggest you take a seat. They’re uncomfortable, but it’s still safer.”

“The Maquis way?” Honigsberg said.

“We’re going to ram our way through,” the dark-haired human at the conn said. He was grinning.

Honigsberg and Taitt exchanged a glance, and then sat at two open stations.

“Shields on full, Cing’ta,” Ro said.

“Shields at full,” the Bolian said.

“Vance?” Ro said. “Get us out of this thing.”

“Yes ma’am,” the man at the conn said.

Taitt braced herself, and they rode our a few jolts of the spacial disturbances nearest the fracture, but even prepared for the inevitable she nearly fell from her seat when the Li Nalas hit the fracture at high impulse.

Panels flared and burst on one side of the bridge.

“Shields are down,” the Bolian said.

A Trill behind him added, “We’re losing structural integrity in the outer hull, and the port impulse engines took a hit. They’re overheating.”

“Vance?” Ro said.

“If I slow down, we are not going to get far enough from the singularity’s pull,” the man said.

“Maintain speed as long as you can,” Ro said.

Taitt exchanged a glance with Honigsberg. He offered a tight smile of assurance.

The ship lurched and jolted, deep groans sounding all around them.

“That damn thing doesn’t want to let go,” Vance said.

“We’re going to lose the port impulse engines,” the Trill said.

“All power to the engines while we’ve got them,” Ro said.

The Li Nalas lurched forward again. Taitt kept her eye on the screen, but the distortions were still thick in front of them, and the Li Nalas didn’t have time or energy to spare to compensate for them.

“Port impulse engines are offline!” The Trill said.

The ship seemed to falter, shaking harder and even though she knew it was impossible to feel it given inertial dampeners, Taitt would have sworn she could feel the speed leeching away.

“Are we far enough away?” Ro asked.

“No,” Vance said.

The Li Nalas lurched again, but this time, instead of the shaking increasing, the ride smoothed somewhat.

“We’re picking up speed,” Vance said. “It’s not me.”

They all peered at the viewscreen. The distortion waves were clearing up more and more with every passing second, and Taitt could see a beam bisecting the view… A beam coming from…

“Voyager,” Honigsberg said.

“They’ve got us in a tractor beam,” the Bolian said. “They’re pulling us at full impulse.”

“Ro,” the Trill said. “We’ve got hull fractures forming all over the port side of the ship. The tractor beam isn’t doing us any favours.”

“It can’t be helped, we need to get clear. Evacuate everyone to safe stations in the interior of the ship. Seal bulkheads if you have to,” Ro said.

The Trill issued the order.

Taitt watched the viewscreen growing clearer and clearer. Finally, when it was almost completely back to normal, the Bolian spoke up again.

“Voyager is hailing us.”

“On screen.”

Voyager’s bridge appeared, Cavit in his chair. “Everyone in one piece over there?”

“We are, Captain,” Ro said. “Thank you.”

“I’d like to keep you tractored until we’ve put some real distance between us and that thing,” Cavit said. He paused, blue eyes telegraphing the seriousness of the situation. “We’re reading some serious damage. Are you up for it?”

“I am,” Ro said, voice steely. “It’s the right move, Captain.”

Taitt couldn’t help but think there was more being said between the the captain and Ro than was on the surface. She eyed Honigsberg, but he was staring straight ahead and didn’t meet her gaze.

On the screen, Cavit nodded, their conversation-in-a-conversation apparently over. “Voyager out.”

This was why she stuck to science. People were messy.

*

Cavit found Ro in the mess hall of the Li Nalas. She was sitting at a table by herself, staring at the space where he imagined a replicator used to be. Now it was a series of open panels, empty casings, and a few scattered cables.

“Do you have a moment?” he said. He didn’t want to intrude, but at the same time, this conversation needed to happen.

She turned to him. “Is it wrong to take glee over no one wanting any of these chairs?”

Cavit shook his head. “I don’t follow.”

Ro waved a hand. “It doesn’t matter.” She rose. “What can I do for you, Captain?”

“I know the Li Nalas wasn’t yours for very long,” he said, instead of answering her question. “But it’s always difficult to decommission a ship.” 

“That sounds like you’re speaking from experience,” she said.

“My first ship, as an ensign. I was a relief operations officer of the USS Copernicus.” He smiled. “NCC-640.”

“A three-digit registry.” Ro tilted her head. “And she was still in service when you were an ensign?”

“For two whole years,” he said.

“I’m trying to think of something to say that doesn’t also come off as a comment about how old you might be.” Her rare smile made a return.

“Your effort is appreciated.”

Ro stood. “Time to go, I think. I was going to take a final tour, but…” She shook her head. “I don’t think I want to after all.”

Cavit eyed the stripped room. “Thank you,” he said, finally.

That surprised her, judging by the way she considered him in return.

“For giving up on our ship?” Ro said.

“For risking it to save us,” Cavit said. “You said you thought it was Voyager trapped in the singularity.”

“Except you weren’t,” Ro said. “And you ended up having to rescue us.”

“Still,” he said. “It matters.” And it did. Especially for this next part. He gestured, and they started walking through the gutted ship, their footsteps echoing in places where the technology beneath the floor plating had been removed. “I was looking over your crew manifest. You have three former starfleet officers on the Li Nalas: Tamal, Vance, and yourself? And one who left the  Academy, Hajar?”

“Well,” Ro said. “Hajar didn't so much 'leave' as was pushed out by everyone around her. And it's four officers, if you count Lan.”

Cavit blinked. “Sahreen Lan was Starfleet?” That didn’t match his records.

“No. Dolay Lan,” Ro said. “The previous host. Sahreen doesn’t talk about it much, but he served on the Rutledge, and saw the Setlik III massacre. He was a junior-grade lieutenant, I believe, a command officer. He was assigned to the last outpost to be attacked, eight years ago. They managed to get him back to Trill in time to pass the symbiont on to Sahreen.”

They got to the access hatch beside the now-depowered lift, and started climbing the ladder.

Cavit let the information sink in for a bit. “Four former officers, then,” he said.

“I take it you’ve decided to ask to integrate some of us into your crew, then?” Ro said.

“Not some,” Cavit said. “All.”

Ro paused in her climb, and looked down at him. “All of us.”

“Absolutely,” Cavit said. “Voyager isn’t a passenger ship.” He cracked a smile.

“That’s generous, Captain,” she said, starting her climb again. “And perhaps a little optimistic, if I’m being honest.”

“You don’t think they’ll rise to the occasion?”

She stepped out onto the upper deck, and held out a hand to help him join her there. “You say ‘rise to the occasion.’ I’m not sure they’ll all see it the same way. The Maquis are used to a certain… framework.” She smiled. “Starfleet is very different.”

“Well,” Cavit said. “I’m sure you’ll help them adjust. It’s your job, after all.”

She tilted her head. “I beg your pardon?”

“I need a first officer,” he said. “You have command experience, you already have their respect, not to mention a glowing record—”

“Glowing?” She laughed. “My court martial? Joining the Maquis?”

“Colorful, also,” Cavit said. “But still glowing. Did you know you had no less than four officers willing to speak on your behalf if you were ever brought to a trial? It’s in your file.”

Ro stopped laughing. “Four?”

Cavit held up one hand, counting off on one hand. “Your former ship’s counsellor, the chief engineer, the first officer, and Captain Picard himself.”

“Captain Picard,” she repeated, her voice low.

“I don’t have it memorized, but it was something about a truly unbendable desire for justice and an unimpeachable moral centre.” He winced. “I can’t do the accent. If it helps, I’m going to promote you, too. And you’ll get one of the only rooms without a roommate right now.”

“You’re serious,” she said.

“I am.” Cavit waved an arm around the remains of the Li Nalas. “You made the call to sacrifice this ship for your crew. We both knew what it would mean to tractor you out of there. Repairing the Li Nalas is beyond both of us right now, but taking everything of value from this ship and relocating everyone to Voyager?” He met her gaze. “It was the tough call, and you made it. That’s what I want in a first officer, Commander.”

Ro visibly winced. “Oh, that sounds strange.”

“Tell me about it,” Cavit said. “Wait until you make your first log entry.”

“I do have one request,” she said.

“You can wear your earring,” Cavit said. “I’m not that much of a stickler.”

She smiled. “That wasn’t it. But thank you.”

“Oh,” he said, feeling warmth spread up his face. “What is it?”

“The Maquis. They need purpose. If you plan to shuffle them into tedious positions of no importance—”

Cavit shook his head, and held up one hand. “I know your people are talented. I wouldn’t dream of sidelining them.”

Ro held out her hand. It was a particularly human gesture, and Cavit appreciated it. He took it, and shook.

Then he tapped his combadge.

“Cavit to Voyager. Commander Ro and I are ready to beam back.”

“A-aye, sir.” The chief’s voice caught.

Ro raised an eyebrow.

Cavit shrugged. “Sometimes it’s fun to be the one to start the gossip.”

*

Cavit had just finished reading Lieutenant Dolay Lan’s record when the chime sounded. He looked up.

“Come in.”

Doctor Fitzgerald stepped into the ready room, and then broke into a wide smile.

“What?” Cavit said, knowing full well what it was.

He sat behind the captain’s desk. Her desk.

No.

His desk.

“Suits you,” Fitzgerald said, then he nodded his head back toward the bridge. “Our new first officer is out there right now bonding with Stadi over the redundancies of official navigator reports and planning to adjust how they’re written. You should worry. I think Stadi might propose.”

Cavit laughed. “I can officiate.”

“I’ve finished creating medical files and personnel records of all our new crew,” Fitzgerald said, handing him a PADD. “Nothing immediately worrisome, health-wise, though the pilot, Vance, has a history of refusing treatment for PTSD. We talked.”

“How’d that go?” Cavit took the PADD.

“Honestly, I think his time with the Maquis was good for him, but I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Cavit nodded, still scanning the names on the PADD. “No scientists.”

“The Maquis aren’t really known for their scientific pursuits, Aaron.” Fitzgerald sat down on the small couch opposite Cavit’s desk. “Though their medic, Rebecca Sullivan? She worked at a colony hospital. First response medical training.”

“That’s handy.”

“Especially since I’m not,” Fitzgerald said, raising his left hand.

Cavit looked up. “Was that a joke?”

“Humour is a well-documented coping mechanism,” Fitzgerald said.

“Is that where you’re at, Jeff?” Cavit put down the PADD. “Just coping?”

Fitzgerald took a breath. “It’s a lot. I’ll get there.”

“If you need to talk,” Cavit said. “I’m here.”

“I know. That helps.” Fitzgerald rose. “But I’ve also got a roommate now. At least until we get our power situation under control.”

“Who’s the lucky crew who gets to hear you snore?” Cavit said.

“You take one shore leave camping trip with a man, and he never lets you live it down,” Fitzgerald shook his head in disgust, then smiled. “I took in Rollins. He offered to give his quarters to two of the Maquis who are together.” Fitzgerald paused. “That’s actually something we need to talk about, come to think of it. Relationships are bound to develop while we’re out here.”

Cavit raised his hand. “Can we table that until we’re done figuring out what to do with everything we salvaged from the Li Nalas? Rollins wants to try and modify the Cardassian torpedoes for our launchers, Taitt wants to integrate the Talaxian database—whatever that is—into the ship’s library, Lieutenant Durst wants to finish the Aeroshuttle… Your department is the only one who hasn’t asked for anything.”

“That’s because their sickbay was crap.”

Cavit laughed. “See? You can be funny.”

Fitzgerald crossed his arms. “If the Maquis hadn’t come aboard, what were you going to do about the first officer position?”

Cavit looked up at him. “One of the only things about being the captain I’ve gotten used to is that I get to keep some things to myself.”

Fitzgerald shook his head, smiling, and turned to go.

Jut as Fitzgerald reached the door, Cavit said “Jeff?”

Fitzgerald paused.

“I was going to ask you,” Cavit said.

“I was going to turn you down,” Fitzgerald said.

“I know. But I was still going to ask.”

The doctor shook his head. “I don’t snore.”

The door closed behind him.