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Chapter Text

Scott Rollins stepped into the Mess Hall just as a tiny figure ran headlong into his legs. Rollins remained upright.

The tiny figure did not.

Sprawled out on the ground, the Caatati child looked up at Rollins with narrow dark eyes as wide as they could go, and the tiny slit of a mouth in the weak Caatati chin open into a near-perfect circle.

“I’m sorry!” the child gasped. Her voice was reedy, and her eyelids flicked up and down in rapid succession, a fear response he’d seen among the Caatati more than once over the past two weeks, and one he wished he didn’t see come so naturally to Voyager’s current companions.

“It’s fine,” Rollins said, reaching down and helping her up with barely any effort. Her eyes widened again at the display of easy strength, and he tried not to flinch at how lean and light she was. She barely weighed anything. “Though we try not to run through doors on Voyager for exactly that reason.”

“I’m late,” she said. “I was eating and then I fell asleep with the Mar-bul.” The little Caatati girl pointed a thin finger back to where the Mess Hall’s most famous occupant, the cat Marble, was currently sitting on one of the window ledges, while one of his security people, Crewman Junie Lowry-Johnson, stroked the black and white cat under the chin with one finger.

“I understand how hard it is to move when you’ve got a sleeping cat on you,” Rollins said, the height of seriousness. “I have a cat in my quarters, too.” And Jewel did, on occasion, transform into an immovable object of her own.

The Caatati girl bowed to him. “I’m sorry again. I should go. Thank you for the food.” She looked up at him, her Caatati eyes dark and wide again. “Really. Thank you for everything.” She sounded like she was on the edge of tears, and then she bowed again and darted around him, heading, he imagined, for the transporter room.

Rollins eyed the rest of the Mess Hall, and noticed the little girl was the last of the Caatati who’d been on board. Through the Mess Hall windows, a half-dozen of the twenty-seven Caatati ships were visible around them, and while they still looked like they’d seen far better days, at least their lights were up and their windows were lit.

He got in line for breakfast, and tried not to notice the sparse breadth of options available. Getting the Caatati back on their feet had done a number on Voyager’s supplies, even with Seven of Nine’s help via thorium modules, and the Gardens would be a while in recovery, he knew. The days of Crewman Emmanuel’s beignets, Crewman Eru’s flapjacks, or Gara’s frittata showing up alongside plainer options were going to be done for a while, but he wasn’t one to complain if his belly could be full, and given what the Caatati were recovering from, he didn’t mind.

“We’re calling this Vostigye oatmeal,” Crewman Celes Tal said, filling a bowl for Rollins and handing it to him. “They know their grains, and we had enough to make it stretch.” He wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince herself, or him, but the Bajoran woman was smiling. “Your choice of beet sugar for a trace of sweetness, or ground marob if you want some kick.” She gestured to the two shakers on the counter, which was otherwise close to bare.

“I’ll try the marob,” Rollins said, shaking some of the ginger-like root onto the bowl of “oatmeal.” It looked a little more like gruel to him, but he trusted Celes and the others to have at least managed palatable.

“Your choice of plomeek juice or…” Celes said, lifting two carafes, then frowning at the apparent weight of one of the two. “Oh. If you’d like cascara, it’ll need a bit longer to brew. Didn’t realize this one was empty already.”

“Given the choice of plomeek juice or something with caffeine, I’ll wait,” Rollins said.

“Popular answer.” Celes laughed. “Well, except for the Vulcan crew. Though since we’ve had so many Caatati kids on board, I’ve been seeing less of them. I don’t think they like the noise so much.”

“Probably not.” He regarded her. Since transferring to crew support, Celes had her finger on the pulse of the crew through the Mess Hall, and she’d been instrumental in helping Doctor Hall and the rest of the medical staff cycle their way through the various crews of the Caatati vessels to give everyone a once over—especially the children. “How are they all doing?” he said.

Celes’s smile faded somewhat. “Seeing the Caatati reminds me of being a kid,” she said. “Before Jas Holza got me placed with my moms, I mean.”

He nodded, understanding enough about Bajoran history to know what she meant. “No more thefts?” he prompted.

She shook her head. “None. Basil and I locked up the cargo bays with foodstuffs, and Ensign Kovar did the same with the Gardens.” She sighed. “I don’t think it was ever intended to be malicious, Lieutenant.”

“I know,” he said, and he did know, but he also knew their current situation had them on the edge of breaking out rations. “I understand the last of their own replication systems are up and running now, so I’m hoping that’s the end of the temptation.”

She nodded, but didn’t look sure. “I don’t know if you’ve tried the food their synthesizers can create?”

“I’ve heard,” Rollins said. Now they had power, the Caatati would be able to use their protein resequencers, but from all accounts, the end result didn’t hold a lot of variance. “But maybe they can shake some ground marob root over it?”

“Marob does grow really fast,” Celes said, recovering her smile. “I just hope we can still manage a proper marriage meal for Li-Paz and Kes.”

Rollins blinked. “What?”

“Oh!” Celes smiled, clapping her hands together in front of her, clearly truly pleased to be the one to tell him. “You hadn’t heard?”

“No,” Rollins said. He liked Kes, and while he and Li-Paz had butted heads a few times when the Maquis and Starfleet crews had originally attempted to work together, he and the Bajoran engineer hadn’t interacted much these days, in the positive way of being on different shifts and no longer having disciplinary issues popping up on Li-Paz’s file. “That’s wonderful,” he said. Having something to celebrate would be good for the crew, frankly. Especially with things running lean while they were moving alongside the Caatati flotilla.

In fact…

“Tal,” he said, leaning forward. “How many replicator rations do I have in my file?”

She blinked, then took a second to check. They’d all been reset, unfortunately, due to the repairs to the warp core—and the damage from Species 8472, the Borg, and accidental structural issues caused by the Ocampa before that—never mind everything they’d given to the Caatati, but he hadn’t cashed in a single ration in a while, he knew.

“Two,” she said.

“Transfer them to you,” Rollins said. “Use it towards their meal. Call it my gift to them.”

Celes beamed at him. “Thank you, Lieutenant! I know Paz would love a hasperat soufflé, and if we can replicate it, then maybe we can come up with a few other special things.”

Rollins nodded, and then a soft whistling sound made Celes turn away to deal with his drink. A moment later, one bowl of Vostigye oatmeal and a piping-hot mug of Cascara in hand (in a Voyager mug, not a Venture mug), Rollins sat down with his PADD and settled in for his usual breakfast of putting his day together.

His first spoonful of “oatmeal” gave him some pause. It didn’t taste terrible. It didn’t taste like much of anything, really. Like grits, but without butter or salt or… anything. But once the marob root kicked in, a pleasant aftertaste resulted. It would do. And he liked the coffee cherry tea.

On the PADD he read up on the Vori and the Kradin—one benefit of being with the Caatati had been learning more about local space, including two species currently slugging it out on multiple worlds, though it seemed like the Kradin were at least willing to speak with Voyager—and getting himself up to date on the other species in their immediate future: apparently, they’d be heading towards a people called the Serosians—who hadn’t treated the Caatati well at all, then the Arritheans…

Who were they, again?

Rollins tapped the PADD, skipping ahead. Captain Cavit had sent the Ro out in the Aeroshuttle again to make contact with the Serosians, and three shuttles had gone scouting ahead for any Arrithean ships—ah! They were traders. Well, that would be good, assuming Chief McMinn had anything left in the Cargo Bays they might be able to barter with.

As he read, another note populated on his PADD, from Stellar Cartography, requesting time at the Morning Briefing.

Hopefully good news, Rollins thought. Taitt’s team had been working like mad to get them a picture of where they were and options for the path ahead to the Alpha Quadrant since the Ocampa had tossed Voyager nearly ten-thousand light years closer to home.

Rollins forced himself to finish his “oatmeal” and then washed it down with the last of his cascara, dropping off his bowl and mug before waving goodbye to Celes and heading for the turbolift.

Rollins took his seat in the Briefing Room a few minutes before they were due to begin, and waited for the last arrivals, which this time was Doctor Emmett Hall, wearing his mobile emitter, and Lieutenant Zandra Taitt, who came in together just a minute before the clock rolled over.

“Sorry,” she said, taking her chair, but Captain Cavit waved one hand.

“We’re all running on fumes, Lieutenant,” he said. “And you more than the rest of us.” 

“Well, about that,” Taitt said, lifting a PADD. “I may have a win-win, Captain.”

“Then by all means, you go first,” Cavit said, offering a warm smile.

“Please.” Beside him, Doctor Jeff Fitzgerald, Voyager’s Ship’s Counsellor and the Captain’s husband, nodded in agreement. Safe to say they were all ready for some wins.

Taitt tapped on her PADD. “Last night, Crewman Telfer and Ensign Hickman found… this.” She lifted her gaze to the display on the Briefing Room wall, where a star system appeared, including what Rollins was fairly certain was a Class-J gas giant, highlighted and marked. “This system is unclaimed, as far as we can tell, and that gas giant…” She tapped her PADD again, and the gas giant moved to front-and-centre on the display, with a series of moons appearing, including one in particular, which she’d highlighted. “Has a Class-L moon. Emmett and I spent an hour this morning crunching some numbers and running simulations, and he agrees with me.”

“It’s perfect for the Caatati,” Emmett said, picking up the verbal baton. “The atmosphere would be a bit thin for us, but their respiratory systems are much hardier than ours, and the temperature ranges are well within their comfort zone.”

“All signs point to arable soil and a decent water table—including some significant lakes.” Taitt tapped her PADD, and more notations filled the screen, all of which reminded Rollins of just how long ago he’d taken any science courses at the Academy. Taitt’s briefings often reminded him he’d never been the greatest scientist in the room.

“This will mean the world to them,” Fitzgerald said.

“There’s only one downside, but it’s not a huge one. It’s slightly out of our way,” Taitt said. She called up the star charts again.

“That’s not too bad,” Lieutenant Veronica Stadi noted, and Rollins had to agree with Voyager’s pilot. Slightly was a good word for it.

“What’s the other win?” Ensign Sahreen Lan said, leaning forward. “You said win-win. I see the Caatati win here, but what’s ours?”

Taitt’s smile grew, and although she looked tired, it transformed her whole face. Her dark eyes regained their shine, and she tapped again. “Look at the composition of the gas giant,” she said, and more information appeared on the screen.

“Oh, you are my favourite,” Honigsberg said, rubbing his goatee with one hand. “Those are some pretty hydrogen isotopes.”

“Tritium and deuterium,” even Lan was smiling now, and Rollins didn’t see the Trill woman do effusive very often. “Wait… the rings—Is that what I think it is?”

“Do you think it’s moderate signs of pergium in the gas giant’s ring structure?” Taitt said, clearly having a grand time being the bearer of good news. “Because that’s what the scanners say.”

“Best gas-giant ever,” Honigsberg said, with feeling.

“Scott,” Cavit said, nodding at him. “Once we’re on the Bridge, reach out to the shuttles and the Aeroshuttle and let them know we’ll be adjusting our course. I’ll speak with Lumas and Rahmin in my Ready Room—I want to make sure they don’t know of anyone with a claim on that system, but if it is unclaimed, we’ll definitely be making a detour.”

“Aye, Captain,” Rollins said.

Chapter Text

Rollins hit the chime on the Ready Room door after nodding to Lieutenant Veronica Stadi, who had the big chair.

“Have fun,” she said, no doubt picking up on his mood.

“Not likely,” he said, shaking his head as Cavit’s voice came over the comm telling him to come in.

Her laughter from behind made him smile though.

Captain Cavit and Lieutenant Commander Ro weren’t at his desk, but rather one of the upper table-and-chairs beneath the curved windows where he’d replaced what had once been a long couch with various planters Daggin, Bronowski, and the other gardeners of Voyager used to grow herbs and teas and other things that tended to give the room a nice scent.

And, Rollins noticed, unlike nearly all the other planters in the Gardens, these remained intact, rather than having started over recently from seedlings to afford as much aid to the Caatati as possible.

“Up here,” Cavit said, and Rollins took the step up to join the Captain and First Officer.

Another scent greeted him once he was there, and he raised an eyebrow at the thermos of coffee that sat in the centre of the table. He hadn’t realized they’d had any of the so-called “Voyager blend” coffee left at the moment. The Kona coffee trees in the Arboretum didn’t produce in great quantities, and—like everything else—the coffee stores had been a victim of their reducing the cupboards almost bare over the last weeks.

“Christmas gift from Jeff,” Aaron said, seeing Rollins’s surprise. “I thought we’d break it out today, given what I saw of your preliminary report.”

“It’s definitely not what we’d been hoping for.” Rollins exhaled, sitting and more than willing to accept the mug of coffee Cavit poured for him.

“Kradin being unreasonable?” Ro took a swallow of her own mug.

“I can’t say that,” Rollins said, tapping the PADD and handing it to her. “They’re at war with these Vori—multiple planets, including their homeworld are partially occupied—and they’ve asked us to stick to a route they believe will be safest.”

“But definitely not direct,” Ro said, seeing the route in question on the PADD, and passing it to Cavit, who sighed in agreement.

“No,” Rollins said. “But the Kradin were at least willing to talk to us. The Vori reacted to our hails with an automated reply making it clear passage would only be granted if we support their…” He paused, trying to recall the exact wording. “Clash with the motherless beasts.”

“Colorful,” Cavit said.

“Cir said their linguistic text and subtext reminded him of some of the Cardassian propaganda he’d read in the archives,” Rollins said. “And he shivered. An actual, full-body shiver.” Rollins took a swallow of the coffee, letting the warmth run through him and oh, that was good.

“Not that I don’t trust Cir’s take,” Ro said, a line forming between her eyebrows. “But what have we learned about the Kradin?”

“Enough, I think,” Rollins said. “Eru and Cir were more comfortable dealing with them, and even the Caatati were willing to admit that while the Kradin weren’t hospitable the last time they came by, only the Vori fired on them. Lieutenant Cing’ta and Ensign Moore didn’t spot anything worrisome in their traffic patterns, either—they’re fighting a war, but they’re not attempting to expand, and their borders with non-combatants, like the Serosians and Arritheans, aren’t militarized. They’re defending themselves, taking actions that seem reasonable enough for what we can see, anyway.” He frowned. “That said, I didn’t get a report from Gara.” He raised his eyes. “She’s not normally late with her thoughts.”

“Ah,” Cavit said, lowering his mug and clearing his throat. “Crewman Gara will be unavailable for the next little while. Lieutenant Baxter, too.” His pale blue eyes shone with something Rollins couldn’t put his finger on right away.

Until he could.

“Oh,” Rollins said, and damn it, he was pretty sure he was blushing. “Right. Okay then.” He resisted the urge to say more, and instead managed a brisk nod of understanding. No more needed to be said, really. Gara being unavailable for a week or so—alongside her partner, Lieutenant Walter Baxter—intimated the reason pretty obviously.

Gara had entered her elogium, the Ocampa fertile mating period.

Ro picked up the PADD again. “four checkpoints,” she said, and Rollins was grateful for the change in topic.

“Four checkpoints with twenty-eight ships,” Rollins said. “Organizing this among the Caatati is going to be… interesting.”

“Rahmin will be open to it,” Ro said, and Rollins noticed pointedly not mentioning Lumas, the less-than-optimal-but-unfortunate-technical-leader of the Caatati flotilla. Ro herself had been instrumental in a shift among the Caatati to have more than Lumas’s voice involved in the decision-making efforts of their group.

“We’ll make it work,” Cavit said. “But let’s definitely make sure Rahmin is invited to the discussion along with Lumas, shall we?”

“Absolutely,” Rollins said. He took another swallow of coffee before continuing. “Also, I’ve received multiple requests from Emmett to expand our visits to the Caatati vessels—permission for him, T’Prena, Kes and Sullivan to do some check-ups in situ, rather than during rotating their crews in groups to Voyager. Given we’ll be stopping four times…” He lifted one hand. “It makes it a lot more doable.”

“Agreed,” Cavit said. “Though I doubt Li-Paz will appreciate us taking Kes away from him during the planning.”

“Don’t be too sure,” Ro said, with a sly curl of her lip. “I think Paz would be perfectly happy to organize the whole wedding himself.” 

“I just heard this morning,” Rollins said, smiling. “I’m happy for them.”

“And it will help to have something positive to focus on while we go through all these checkpoints,” Cavit said, nodding at the PADD.

*

“Hey Emmett,” Rollins said, nodding to the Emergency Medical Hologram from the doorway to the doctor’s office, and holding up a PADD. “I copied the current schedule for the upcoming checkpoints for you—assuming we stick to the plan, this is what you’ll be looking at for down-time in between stretches at warp.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Doctor Hall rose from his chair, taking the PADD. “This is great news. I’ll draft a schedule at once. The Caatati may be getting by now, but prolonged malnutrition takes a toll, and we may be able to head off long-term impact.”

“Glad we could find a silver lining for you,” Rollins said. “You’ll be open to taking a security detail with you, right?”

The hologram’s reaction—a long-suffering sigh that Rollins always found amusing given Doctor Emmett Hall didn’t actually breathe—was no surprise. “A security detail?”

“You want to take Voyager personnel onto Caatati vessels during military checkpoint inspections,” Rollins said, crossing his arms in a not-so-subtle reminder that while Emmett had to care about the health of the crew, Rollins was in charge of its safety. “These checkpoints are located close enough to Vori space that the Kradin feel they’re necessary, and the Vori have a history of some violence against the Caatati. So,” he spoke clearly, and perhaps a smidgeon slower than usual. “Yes. A security detail will accompany your medical teams.”

“Very well,” Emmett said.

“Thank you,” Rollins said, uncrossing his arms. 

“Doctor, I’ve finished with Ensign MacAlister’s test results, and I think I’ve tracked down the culprit.” Kes’s voice made Rollins turn, and he stepped aside to make some room for her to pass him by. She gave him a little bob of her head as she did so, handing a PADD to Emmett. “It looks like a mild gluten-intolerance reaction to one of the Vostigye grains.”

“Well done. It’s surprising he hadn’t bumped into this before,” Emmett said.

“I don’t think a lot of people would have chosen the oatmeal before now,” Rollins said. “It wasn’t exactly the best breakfast I’ve ever had.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” Emmett said, then looked at Kes. “Treatment?”

“I gave him a biome-activator keyed to the grain,” Kes said. “And told him to drop by before breakfast tomorrow if the menu doesn’t change.”

“Perfect,” Emmett said, then gestured to the PADD Rollins had brought. “Lieutenant Rollins just gave us the schedule for the upcoming checkpoints. If you’re free, we could go over a plan of attack before T’Prena and Miss Sullivan arrive?”

“Absolutely,” Kes said. “I’ve got an hour before I’m due to meet with Paz.”

“Congratulations, by the way,” Rollins said.

“Thank you, Scott.” Kes’s smile transformed her whole face from pretty to radiant. She pushed some of her golden waves behind the tapered Ocampan ear she wore her Bajoran earring in, and bit her bottom lip. “To be honest, it’s a little overwhelming. Bajoran weddings seem to have details about everything.”

“Be happy Li-Paz isn’t a human Catholic,” Rollins said. “For my cousin’s wedding on New Champlain, there were six months of classes they had to take together first.”

“Six months?” Kes’s eyes widened, and she laughed again. “That puts learning a few phrases in Bajoran into perspective.”

“If you need anything,” Rollins said. “Let me know.”

“Thank you, I will.”

Rollins tipped his chin, and left them to their planning.

*

“So Doug Bronowski is massaging her feet?” Li-Paz eyed Kes with such clear confusion Kes had to smile. She loved this man very much, and the befuddlement in his blue eyes reminded her of that, oddly enough. He was asking because he didn’t understand, not out of judgement. He liked to learn.

“Yes, the rolisisin,” Kes said. “Normally a parent would do it—Gara’s father—but since he’s not here, she chose Ensign Bronowski.”

“Because they used to date?” Li-Paz said.

“I think more because they’re good friends,” Kes said. “And Gara’s feelings about Doug are something close to paternal.”

“I get it,” Li-Paz said. He smiled at her across the Mess Hall table. “Have I said I love you today? Or thanked you for going through with this?”

“Yes, you have,” Kes said, smiling. “And you don’t have to thank me, Paz. I know it’s important to you, so it’s important to me.” She reached up and touched her earring, which made him smile. Then she reached down and chased her spoon around the inside of her bowl of gamma plomeek soup, catching some of the dregs. She wasn’t particularly fond of the soup, but despite a full serving, she was still hungry. She licked at her spoon.

Li-Paz leaned forward. “Well, I have good news about the menu. Celes said she’s got enough replicator rations for a hasperat soufflé, thanks to Lieutenant Rollins.”

“Really?” Kes was charmed. “He didn’t mention that when I saw him earlier. I’ll have to thank him.” She enjoyed the spicy Bajoran dish almost as much as Li-Paz did, and would definitely appreciate some soon. She ran her finger around the edge of her bowl, then licked it.

Li-Paz chuckled. “Still hungry?”

Kes looked down at her finger. “I am, yes. Sorry.”

He pushed his own bowl toward her. He hadn’t polished off his soup with anywhere near as much verve as she had, and she leaned over the table to close the distance between them for a thank-you kiss before dipping her spoon.

“Well, now we’ve got the checkpoints we’re going through, and what that’ll mean for your schedule,” Li-Paz said. “I’ll talk to Ram and see what days might work.”

Kes picked up a pepper shaker and shook some of the dark flakes onto the surface of what little remained of the soup. Her mouth watered. But then what he’d said sunk in, and she frowned, looking up at him. “I know this is more time away for me. I’m sorry.”

Li-Paz waved that off. “No, it’s fine. There’s no…” His voice trailed off, and she looked at him, catching him staring at her, a small line forming between his eyebrows and a different sort of confused look on his face now. “…rush,” he said. “Are you okay?”

“Pardon?” she said, then realized that while he’d been speaking, she’d shaken pepper onto the tip of her finger, and had been rubbing it against her gums without thinking, enjoying the earthy, sharp taste.

Her stomach growled, and she bit her bottom lip.

“Oh,” she said, as an inkling—and then a dawning realization—struck her.

“Kes?” His handsome face, with the shadow growing in around his chin and upper lip but nowhere else—his beard was best considered “patchy”—was tilted in real concern now.

“Actually,” Kes said. “There might be some rush.”

*

“This isn’t like before, is it?” Cavit said, frowning at his husband and Emmett, who’d taken the seats opposite his desk in the Ready Room. “An unnatural elogium?”

“No,” Emmett shook his head. “Or at least, not exactly.”

Cavit shook his head, not liking the sound of that, but Jeff’s soft smile chased away the worry soon enough.

“They’re within the right age range now,” Fitzgerald said. “And according to Eru, this isn’t entirely uncommon—there can be a telepathic component to the elogium, so groups of similarly-aged Ocampa tend to go into their mating cycle at about the same time—sort of like how Cir’s elogium triggered Eru’s.”

Well, that was a relief. Of a sort.

“I guess the wedding is delayed?” Cavit said.

“As is Kes’s participation in the medical sweeps of the Caatati ships,” Emmett noted.

“Can you handle it without her?” Cavit said.

“That’s why your husband is here,” Emmett said. “I’d like your permission to add him and Ensign Kovar to my team.”

Cavit eyed Fitzgerald. Ensign Kovar was a botanist and biologist by training, but among the Hera crew, he’d taken on the role closest to a doctor they’d had among their survivors during their years trapped on a karst-like, Class-L planet.

Fitzgerald raised his bad hand. “Kovar is a decent medic, and can handle any manual dexterity issues that might come up. Emmett has been wanting to expand Kovar’s experience with medical duties, and between the two of us, we’ll try to measure up to one Ocampa resident.”

“Of course,” Cavit said. “Permission granted.” He hoped it wouldn’t be too hard on Jeff—his husband had come a long way in putting some distance between his former career as a surgeon and his new place as Voyager’s counsellor, but he trusted the man.

And, as always, needs must.

“Ro to Cavit.” Ro’s voice cut through their conversation, and Cavit glanced up.

“Go ahead.”

“We’re approaching the first checkpoint.”

“On my way,” Cavit said, rising. “Gentlemen,” he said to Emmett and Fitzgerald. “Go ahead and get ready. I’ll let Chief Tamal know to expect you.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Emmett said.

“See you later,” Fitzgerald said, with a smile.

*

“Mister Roberto, if you insist on being present, will you at least take a step back?” Doctor Emmett Hall lifted his medical tricorder to scan the Caatati elder, all while aiming a glare at the security crewman who seemed intent on crowding the two of them in the small chamber they were using on the Caatati ship as a makeshift examination room.

Avery Roberto, for his part, didn’t seem to mind Emmett’s less than gentle request, and took exactly one step back. He even smiled, as though this were funny.

Emmett was going to have a word with Lieutenant Rollins when he got back to Voyager.

“I apologize,” Emmett said, returning his attention to the older humanoid and the results on his medical tricorder. “I’d like to blame it on the triox shot I had to give him to make breathing here on your ship less laborious for him, but the truth is I’m afraid our security personnel aren’t always as considerate as I’d like.”

“Standing right here, doc,” Roberto said.

“Believe me, we’re aware,” Emmett said.

The Caatati elder, for his part, simply watched, dark eyes blinking and small mouth narrowed into a thin line. Beyond mid-term malnutrition—something that would be on a recovering trajectory now—Emmett didn’t like the blood pressure results he was seeing. He swapped out a hypospray and held it up so the elder could see it.

“You have hypertension,” Emmett said. “This should aid you for the immediate time being, and I’ll take your name now so we can get in touch to plan out an ongoing treatment. The change in your diet will help, as would being more active.”

“Hard to be active when you’re faint with hunger,” Roberto said, though not ungently, and Emmett turned to look at the security officer a second time. The man’s hazel eyes were fixed on the Caatati elder, with empathy.

Well. Perhaps not every security officer lacked a bedside manner, then.

“Mister Roberto is correct,” Emmett said, facing the elder again. “We’ll take it slow. But as you recover your strength, we’ll need to make some changes to your diet and activity, all right?”

The elder nodded, as quiet as nearly every other Caatati they’d seen during this checkpoint. When he finally did speak, he said only, “thank you,” as he left the small room.

“Five more to go,” Emmett said, checking his PADD.

An alert sounded through the Caatati ship, the lights dimmed a notch, and Roberto frowned, raising his gaze somewhere to the ceiling.

“What’s that?” Emmett said.

“It’s the Kradin checkpoint alarm,” Roberto said. He tapped his combadge. “Roberto to Rollins.”

“Rollins here,” Voyager’s security chief replied immediately. “It’s not you. The checkpoint found something on another ship—not one of ours—but they sound a checkpoint wide alarm when that happens. Hold tight. Once the Kradin are done with the ship in question, we’ll be out of lockdown.”

“Understood,” Roberto said. The alarm had stopped, but the lights in the ship remained dimmed. He lifted his shoulders. “I suppose we can keep going at least?”

Emmett nodded. “Yes.” He opened the door to their small room and a Caatati woman entered. The lips of her small mouth were turned down at either end, and she raised her dark eyes upwards to the ceiling as she took her seat.

“Kradin,” she said, with some virtriol.

Roberto raised his eyebrows at Emmett, and Emmett mirrored the surprise. Most of the Caatati they’d dealt with—Lumas notwithstanding—had been rather meek. This woman seemed particularly agitated.

“We’ll let them do their work,” Emmett said gently. “And we’ll do ours.”

The mottled ridges on the woman’s hairless, larger cranium flushed with darker streaks, but she bobbed her head in acquiescence. “They treated us like motherless,” she said. “Sooner we’re done with them, the better.”

Emmett started scanning. Clearly the Caatati woman was no fan of the Kradin.

Chapter Text

Lieutenant Scott Rollins fought his instinct to flinch away from the Kradin officer as he moved closer to hand him the clearance for the flotilla to continue their journey to the next checkpoint. Large, muscular, humanoids with predatory eyes, fierce ridges around their face, and teeth on all sides of a circular, almost lamprey-like mouth.

Even with Crewman Cir and Commander Ro beside him, Rollins felt small compared to the aliens. Weak. It wasn’t a sensation he was used to having. The sensation was subtly supported by the room around them—the Kradin outpost’s scale. Every archway, every door, every chair in the station was designed for the larger, stronger species, and dark enough that every corner seemed to hold a shadow from which something might spring.

Then again, the truth was, this Sergeant Treel—and all the Kradin, in fact—had been nothing but pleasant.

“I realize the recent delay puts you further behind,” Sergeant Treel said, in a voice that sounded more like it belonged to someone better suited to chewing on bone than passing pleasantries. “But the Vori’s tactics require a high level of scrutiny, unfortunately.”

“Their tactics?” Ro said.

Treel growled—or at least, that was Rollins’s first interpretation—until he reconsidered and thought he’d just heard the equivalent of a Kradin sigh. “I’ve not been cleared to give you a full run-down, Commander,” Treel said, after a moment. “But I caution you and the Caatati flotilla to take every consideration possible to avoid interaction.”

“You don’t want us to even speak with them?” Cir frowned, and Rollins had to agree with the linguist’s confusion.

“I’ll attempt to gain clearance for you,” Treel said.

“That… would be appreciated,” Ro said, with a frown of her own.

Rollins watched the Kradin soldier, but he had no ability to read the tiny movements in the alien’s face, which could have meant anything. Even a Klingon’s body language would have been easier to interpret.

“You are free to go,” Treel said, and their meeting was over.

In the corridor, Rollins waited until they were alone to speak. “Cir?”

“He does want to tell us more,” Cir said. “And he believes the threat of the Vori is very real, Lieutenant.”

Ro regarded him. “You sound sure of that, Cir.”

“Kradin speak more formally when they’re being distant,” Cir said. “And he kept his wrists turned towards you, Commander.”

Ro blinked. “His… wrists?”

“It’s a sign of respect and comfort,” Cir said. “Like when Marble or the other cats show their belly.”

“Okay.” Rollins chuckled at the comparison between the Kradin and Voyager’s cats. “So we err on the side of trusting the Kradin on this one.”

“I’d say so,” Cir said, with the confidence he only tended to show when dealing with language and communication.

Ro tapped her combadge. “Ro to Voyager. Three to beam back.”

The transporter effect shimmered over him, and Rollins allowed himself to relax a fraction as he returned to spaces built for a species his size.

*

Doctor Emmett Hall downloaded the last of the files into Voyager’s Sickbay computer and nodded to himself. “Not bad for a day’s work,” he said cheerfully. “And I believe a worthwhile effort—we may have nipped a respiratory virus in the bud on two of the ships.”

“And all it gave us was a lingering headache,” Rebecca Sullivan said, with her usual mix of wry-and-sarcasm. Shadows smudged the flesh beneath her dark brown eyes.

“Tri-ox,” Fitzgerald said, with a small nod and grimace of his own. All the humans involved in the Away Missions to the Caatati ships needed tri-ox, given the lower oxygen ratio of the Caatati atmosphere, and Emmett knew the side-effects of the treatment included a headache in most cases.

“Get some rest,” Emmett said to Fitzgerald and Sullivan, then glanced at the rest of his medical team.

Ensign Kovar and Nurse T’Prena had not needed the treatment, given their Vulcan biology, and simply regarded him in turn, waiting. The botanist in particular seemed to be at attention.

“Thank you, ensign,” Emmett said, dismissing him. “I’ll contact you before the next checkpoint, if you’re willing to aid us again.”

“Of course,” Kovar said, nodding at Emmett and then Nurse T’Prena, and finally Doctor Fitzgerald and Crewman Sullivan before making his exit, hands clasped behind his back.

“He was great,” Fitzgerald said. “For the record.” He pushed off the side of the biobed where he was leaning and reached out for a hypo, sliding a mild analgesic into the slot. “Here,” he said, nodding to Sullivan, who leaned forward and accepted a spray before the two of them rose. “Let’s go see if there’s anything with caffeine left in the Mess Hall.”

The two left, and Emmett faced Nurse T’Prena, who he couldn’t help but notice hadn’t left with the others, despite having no reason to remain.

Not her usual habit.

“Nurse?” he said.

“If it is not an imposition on your time, Doctor, I would like to request a checkup.” T’Prena said, smoothing the front of her maternity tunic, which she’d only recently started wearing, and still barely showed any sign of her pregnancy. “I have no symptoms of concern, but as I am in my fourth month and my pregnancy and my previous pregnancy with Setok was accelerated compared to a normal Vulcan birth, I believe Daggin would find a checkup of benefit to his mental state.” 

“Of course,” Emmett said, gesturing to the biobed.

She sat on the biobed and he picked up a medical tricorder, initiating a prenatal scan. Within moments, the three biological lifesigns appeared on the wall display, all well within healthy ranges at an initial glance, but Emmett began with T’Prena, isolating her readings and looking for any sign of the systemic pressures she’d sustained during her pregnancy with Setok, especially as the pregnancy drew to a close.

“You are healthy,” Emmett said, knowing better than to add any linguistic flourish when dealing with his nurse. “I see no signs of concern, and both children are progressing at a rate similar to what we saw with Setok’s gestation.” He paused, facing her. “I believe our best course of action will remain keeping an eye on you, the children, and preparing for a foetal transport birth again, albeit proactively this time, rather than waiting for physiological stressors to develop as they did before.”

T’Prena’s gaze lingered on the readings. “I concur.”

“I am seeing a mild folate deficiency,” Emmett said. “But nothing a hypo can’t fix—and I believe Talaxian chadre’kab is high in folates. Have Daggin tuck some aside for you. Doctor’s orders.”

T’Prena dipped her chin. “Yes, doctor.”

“Now, let’s take a closer look at your little ones,” Emmett’s algorithms didn’t quite stop his voice from including a gentle teasing note when he added, “For Crewman Daggin’s sake.”

*

“Are you sure you’re okay for this?” Li-Paz said, bringing Kes a glass of water and joining her on the couch they’d set up to offer the view through the windows of their shared quarters, where stars streaked by at low-warp. As always, he'd shucked his uniform jacket the moment he was off duty, but instead of wearing just his undershirt, he'd changed into the dark purple tunic he often favoured when he wanted to truly take a step away from his role as one of Voyager's systems engineers. 

“I am,” Kes said, accepting the glass and taking a sip. She'd changed too, into the lightest dress she owned given the warmth the early stages of the elogium kept spreading across her skin. “We have some time.” She wanted to ease his concerns as best she could, but the reality was the elogium would not wait—it had begun, it would continue—and they were on borrowed time. Typically, they'd have a few days, yes, but things weren't always typical. She'd seen enough elogiums in her youth in the city on Ocampa to know that some could be faster than others. Even Eru and Cir's had taken only four full days before they'd moved to their mating period, rather than the more average seven days.

“I’m really looking forward to not being ready in the slightest.” Li-Paz reached out to slide his fingers through her long, golden curls, and kissed her softly, his dark blue eyes sparkling with a mix of excitement, love, nerves, worry, joy, and so many other feelings she could feel pressing against her telepathic senses. He pulled back smiling.

“Me, too,” she said, smiling back at him. It had become a recurring joke between the two of them back when her elogium had been sparked early, two years ago now, and it had seemed like they would have needed to make a choice when their relationship was brand new.

Now she couldn’t imagine her life without Li-Paz, and she still felt as unprepared to become a mother as she did back then. Sam Stiles and Dean Tamal said this was a common sensation among parents of all species, though T’Prena had—in a rare moment of offering advice—once told Kes ‘It is illogical to attempt to plan for every eventuality, especially when dealing with the unpredictable nature inherent to a child.’

“So next is the massaging, right?” Li-Paz said, taking her hand and squeezing.

“That’s right,” Kes said. “Emmett agreed to do it.”

“I’m sure he was as proud as anything,” Li-Paz said, grinning. “I’ll probably have to free up more space for his fatherly subroutines.”

Kes laughed. “He said he’d be honoured,” she said. “Though I think he also wants to understand the physiological effects.”

Their door chimed, and Li-Paz rose, pausing to aim another look her way. She felt his concern, and waved her hand to let him know she was fine.

Their connection had become so strong she could almost hear his concern like music on the wind, and it would grow by the hour now. She imagined he might very well hear her thoughts before long, even as a non-telepath, given how heightened her telepathic abilities had become over the the last four years alongside the boost of the elogium.

“Sorry we’re a bit late,” Atara Ram said, arriving alongside Stephen Niles. The couple were some of Li-Paz’s oldest friends, and Atara would be performing their marriage ceremony.

“It’s fine,” Kes said, gesturing to the chairs.

Li-Paz joined her on the couch again, and she leaned on him—the urge to be near him, to touch him, was a near-constant hum right now—and the two men sat, facing them both.

“So,” Atara said. “If it comes to it, I can marry you two here and now, if you’d like, after the blessing.” He lifted his palms. “You’ve already completed all the other prayers. After this? You’re both more than ready to declare yourself to the Prophets, and even with only Stephen and I as witnesses, that’s enough.”

“I’m hoping we can still manage the ceremony,” Kes said, knowing how much Li-Paz wanted this, and surprising herself by having the desire to declare herself publicly in front of her friends as well. “But it’s good to know that’s an option.”

“Honestly Ram,” Li-Paz said. “At this point, I’m ready to give it all up if it makes things easier on her.”

Kes looked at him, her eyes widening in surprise. “Really?” She asked the question even though she felt the depth of sincerity in his words right down to the core of her heart.

“Kes,” he said, placing his palm against her cheek. “Really.”

“Well, we’ve started setting up in the Arboretum,” Niles said. “And everyone is doing whatever they can to move things along.” He grinned. “Serious Murphy was there when I left, so I’m pretty sure it’ll be done before we make it to the next Kradin checkpoint.”

“Andreas is helping?” Kes said, surprised.

“Billy too. I don’t think you realize just how many people are looking forward to this,” Niles said, leaning back in his chair. “Tal has been inundated with requests to pitch in, Kes.”

“That’s so lovely,” Kes said, looking at Li-Paz, a flush of warmth that didn’t have anything to do with the elogium warming her cheeks.

“Let’s start the blessing,” Atara said, reaching out with both hands to take one of their hands each. “I think it’ll give you both peace of mind—after this, like I said, I can marry you as simply as necessary, on whatever schedule we end up on.”

Kes squeezed the Bajoran man’s hand. “Thank you,” she said, then put her other hand in Li-Paz’s, and took a deep breath, calling to mind the Bajoran phrases declaring her desire to weave her fate into a joined future with the man she loved.

*

Rollins didn’t use his office very often, preferring to work on the Bridge, but moving from one checkpoint to another on a fixed route at low-warp didn’t fill his dance card, and he was taking the opportunity to read all the reports from the security teams who’d been on the Caatati ships alongside the medical away missions. It might not be the most fascinating reading, but it also gave Ensign Sitar some time at the Tactical Station. Like all the former Hera crew, Ensign Sitar had had years without an active duty assignment, and Rollins had taken the opportunity to place her on the Bridge during a time where it wasn’t likely she’d have much to do beyond the routine.

“Got a sec, Lieutenant?”

Rollins looked up, surprised to see Ensign Tom Moore had entered his office. Moore didn’t often come see him, spending most of his time with Lieutenant Cing’ta on deck fifteen with the Cloud program interface, working on putting together reports from scanning local subspace chatter and forming those tiny shreds of information into intel—as well as attempting to seed local communications with a self-replicating program that would try to get word back to them of any discussions flagged with various terms, like “Starfleet,” “Voyager” and “Equinox.”

“What’s up, Tom?” Rollins said, gesturing to the chair.

Moore sat, and not for the first time, Rollins was struck with how handsome the man was. Blond, with dark brown eyes, Moore had a strong chin, a pleasant faint Australian accent, and—if rumours were true—a tendency to leap far, far too quickly into relationships, which had led to a particularly public moment in the Mess Hall between Moore and Crewman Sveta.

“Lieutenant Cing’ta asked me to keep an eye on the comm chatter between the Caatati ships, just to make sure Lumas didn’t give us any surprises,” Moore started, with a wry little smile that made Rollins think Cing’ta hadn’t worded it anywhere near so innocently. None of them liked Lumas much, Rollins no exception.

“Something worrisome?” Rollins said.

“I might be jumping the gun,” Moore said, shrugging, and lifting his PADD. “And I’m potentially making assumptions. But they’re talking more and more.”

Rollins eyed the PADD, and sure enough, the comm traffic between the various Caatati ships was on the rise. “No,” Rollins said. “I see what you mean.”

“It’s possible they’re doing what we’re doing,” Moore said. “Playing a bit of catch-up during a slower part of the journey, maybe.” He sighed. “But—not to put too fine a point on it, sir—I can’t figure out what they could have to talk about, and almost a third of the signals are tight-beam.”

Rollins frowned, looking down at the PADD a second time. Moore was right. Twenty-seven percent of the last day’s signals were tight-beam, meaning ship-to-ship in a direct, aimed transmissions that didn’t leak much—or nearly anything—for Voyager’s communications to pick up.

Exactly the type of technology used to ensure no one could listen in, in fact.

“You’re right. Keep an eye on this,” Rollins said. “I don’t like it, either, and as much as the Caatati have been better since we helped them start to be self-sufficient, both Roberto and Thompson mentioned some anti-Kradin sentiment coming from the Caatati while the medical teams were on board.” Rollins frowned at the signal statistics, as though they might reveal some information if he glared at them the right way. “Which makes sense, given the Kradin more-or-less told them to take a hike the last time they tried to come this way, but…” He tapped one finger on his desk. “Loop Cing’ta in, and I’ll make sure Commander Ro knows we’re on top of this.”

“Aye, Lieutenant,” Moore said.

“Good catch,” Rollins said.

Moore nodded, and rose. “I’ll get back to it.”

Rollins waited a moment after Moore left, eyeing the data on the PADD. When it came right down to it, all they had to work with was an uptick in signals from some of the Caatati ships.

He highlighted the ships with the highest signal rates, then reached over to his personal monitor and tapped a comm channel open.

After a moment Emmett’s face appeared on the screen.

“Yes, Lieutenant?” the hologram said.

“Any chance we could re-prioritize which ships we visit for the next round of check-ups?” Rollins said.

Chapter Text

Rollins found Crewman Rebecca Sullivan already in the Transporter Room when he arrived, medkit over one shoulder. She fired a welcome nod his way and said, “I heard I was getting the boss today.” She held up a hypospray. “Did everyone else opt out of the tri-ox headache? Biddle didn’t strike me as that squeamish.”

“No,” Rollins said, chuckling. “He’s not.” Biddle had worked with Sullivan at the previous checkpoint. “I’m just curious about something.”

“Yeah, never good when the chief of security says that,” Sullivan said, pressing the hypo to his neck and injecting him with the compound that would make breathing on the lighter-oxygen Caatati ship they were heading to more comfortable.

“This will last three to five hours,” Sullivan said. “Which I know is a big range, but it depends on how active you are while we’re there.” She slid the hypo back into her medkit, closing the lid. “If you feel a tightness in your chest, you tell me, and I’ll give you another dose. You’re a big guy, so I won’t be surprised if it’s closer to three hours, not five.”

“Got it,” Rollins said.

“Are you going to tell me what it is we’re curious about?” she said, dark eyes fixed on his with just enough caution that he knew she was taking his “curiosity” seriously.

“Comm traffic between Caatati ships,” Rollins said, lifting one shoulder. “Could be nothing, but Cing’ta and Moore noticed it, and I agree that the pattern is… off.”

“Okay,” Sullivan said, with a wink. “I will set idle chatter to gossip, see what I can get people to talk about for you.”

He smiled at her. “Appreciate that.” He glanced at Chief Valerie Canamar, who had the swing-shift for the transporter room. Tall, with her dark hair back in a bun, she was watching them both with the patient awareness he’d come to expect from transporter chiefs. “Is our first ship ready for us?”

“They are, Lieutenant,” Canamar said, waving one hand to the transporter pad. “At your leisure.”

Rollins picked up another case of medical supplies Sullivan had left by the steps up to the padd, then carried it up to take his position. Sullivan took the pad beside him.

“Energize,” Rollins said.

The transporter effect washed over them and between blinks, the silver-blue light revealed the interior of one of the smaller Caatati vessels—this one carrying less than fifty people. They’d beamed into a converted cargo hold, a least according to Rollins’s report from this particular ship’s commander, which would be where Sullivan would be working her way through the Caatati on board.

A typically stooped Caatati man stood before them, apparently having been waiting for their arrival, and his small dark eyes flicked back and forth between them. “That’s a marvellous technology,” he said, in a stronger voice than Rollins was used to hearing from the aliens.

“It definitely helps us get around,” Rollins said, then coughed once. Tri-ox or not, the sense of thinness to the air was immediate. “Sorry.”

Sullivan gave him a knowing look. “I got your list,” she said, and Rollins noticed she wasn’t speaking at her usual volume, but something a bit softer. “We’ll be ready in a couple of minutes for the first check-ups.”

“Where do you want this?” Rollins asked Sullivan, lifting the case. He decided to speak softer as well, given Sullivan had practice in their atmosphere and he hadn’t.

She pointed, and he set it up on a low counter, unlatching it and eyeing the range of pharmaceuticals and scanners with admittedly near-total ignorance. Then he turned his attention to the cargo bay as a whole while Sullivan and the Caatati spoke.

Arched, and located at the rear of the ship, the room had a burnished, grey-green metal colouration to it, and while it appeared clean, it also had the beaten-down quality he’d encountered throughout the Caatati: markings had faded, or were scratched, and while there were some crates stacked in places—the majority of the slim pickings he recognized as having come from Voyager—there wasn’t much in here at all.

From a security point of view, it wasn’t a great position to be in. Opening the doors behind them would blow them all into space, and only one large door seemed to open further into the ship itself, but they were here to help, and however his curiosity had been piqued about the transmissions, he wasn’t about to jump to full-scale paranoia.

Not yet, at least.

He pulled out his tricorder and scanned the case of supplies Sullivan had brought, which he assumed would look normal to the Caatati man, if he was paying attention. He shifted the tricorder into comms mode, silenced its output, tapped the automatic power-down mode off, then closed it and put it back on his belt.

If this ship—which had more than its fare share of direct, tight-beam comm chatter—continued in that vein, he intended to leave with some idea of what it was the Caatati had found so fascinating.

“I’m all ready,” Sullivan said, catching his attention. “All set, Lieutenant?”

“I am,” he said.

The Caatati man went to the door and opened it, and the first Caatati, an elder woman walking with the assistance of a wheeled frame, crossed the space to Sullivan’s side at a good clip considering the assistance device she was using.

Rollins settled in to listen and watch.

And hopefully, learn.

*

Like everything else, shifting from a regeneration cycle to awareness held a different quality since Seven of Nine had joined the crew of Voyager. In the time before Voyager, even while inactive, the Collective was with her at all times, information efficiently downloading into her neural transceiver so that when the necessary maintenance cycle concluded, Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjuct of Unimatrix Zero One did not “wake up” so much as “become active.”

Now, Seven of Nine’s awareness shifted. She stepped up into her alcove, began the regeneration cycle, closed her eyes, her awareness suspended into a disconnected nowhere, the regeneration cycle concluded, her awareness returned.

She opened her eyes.

And none of it came with any voices beyond her own. No efficient arrival of information. Nothing but the required support for her cybernetic and biological function to maintain another day.

Step up into the alcove. Begin regeneration cycle. Close eyes. Awareness suspends. Regeneration cycle completes. Awareness returns. Open eyes.

Two figures stood in front of her alcove. She knew their designations within Voyager’s hierarchy, and they were the two Voyager individuals on Voyager she had spent the most of her time interacting with beyond Doctor Jeff Fitzgerald.

The first was Ensign Sahreen Lan, a joined Trill, and Voyager’s Operations Officer. The patterns of dark spots to either side of her temples and neck were often obscured by decidedly chaotic curls of dark hair, though today she wore a yellow headband that matched her operations gold Starfleet uniform.

The second was Lieutenant Alexander Honigsberg, a human, and Voyager’s Chief Engineer. Smaller in stature than the Trill woman, his hair was more elaborately maintained, as was the short goatee he wore.

Of the two, she found Lieutenant Honigsberg less comfortable around her, whereas Ensign Lan often surprised Seven of Nine by drawing imperfect, imprecise parallels between their experiences that Seven of Nine spoke of to Doctor Fitzgerald during their frequent and inefficient discourses.

He asked her why she thought she was so preoccupied with Ensign Lan’s “parallels.”

Seven of Nine had yet to settle on an answer, though she believed considering the ways in which Ensign Lan’s exploration of the memories of her previous hosts’ lives versus Seven of Nine’s experiences among the Borg were intellectually stimulating.

“Ensign, Lieutenant,” Seven of Nine tilted her head. “Are you in need of my assistance?” She’d been working on being more “personable” with Doctor Fitzgerald’s help. 

“Other way around, actually,” Lan said, with a smile. “I’m sorry it took so long, but your quarters are ready.”

“That said,” Honigsberg said, rubbing his chin the way she noticed he did quite often in her proximity. “We wouldn’t turn down you giving the alcove we moved there a once over? You know, before we consider powering this one down.”

“Of course,” Seven of Nine said. She eyed the Cargo Bay where she’d been regenerating for weeks now, and found herself hesitating for a moment, though she wasn’t sure why. She forced herself to step down off the alcove, dismissing the discomfort.

It was irrelevant.

“We still have you on Deck Eight,” Lan said. “So it’s not far.”

They walked the corridor to where many of the engineering crew quarters were gathered on the deck and as usual, Lieutenant Honigsberg seemed incapable of maintaining silence through the transition.

“I’m afraid you don’t get a window,” Honigsberg said. “We needed a more direct power input line, so you’ve got the interior side of the corridor, but…” He held up one finger, in a gesture Seven of Nine found unclear as to its intention. “The Astrometrics project is only two doors down, so your commute will be nothing.” He snapped his fingers.

“My commute?” Seven of Nine said, raising one eyebrow. Non-technical discussions with Honigsberg often left her with a sense of imprecision and mild frustration.

“He’s trying to be funny,” Lan said, stopping at a door. “And here you go.”

Seven of Nine noticed her name—Seven of Nine—was listed in Federation standard above the cabin’s alphanumerical designation, and paused to look at it. Not Annika Hansen, which Doctor Fitzgerald had originally suggested she consider, but Seven of Nine. The acquiescence to her preference sent an odd sensation through her midsection.

Though it would no doubt prove of dubious functionality, perhaps she’d speak with Doctor Fitzgerald about the reaction at their next “session.”

Lieutenant Honigsberg tapped in a series of commands on the access panel beside the door. “Okay, all ready for your biometrics.” He aimed a hand at the panel, and Seven of Nine reached out and pressed her fingertip against the sensor-plate.

“Identity confirmed,” Voyager’s computer voice spoke quietly. “Access to quarters activated.”

“Give it another tap,” Honigsberg said.

Seven did so, and the door opened.

“Welcome home,” Honigsberg said, waving a hand ahead, and making it clear he wanted her to enter first. She did so, looking around the room and unsure of exactly what reaction she was expected to have. To the best of her understanding, the rest of the crew of Voyager used their quarters to sleep—something she couldn’t do—or to relax—something she didn’t do—or to eat in private—something her biology didn’t yet require, though Doctor Fitzgerald assured her it would happen in time.

“I’m afraid you got the standard Starfleet grey right now,” Lan said, crossing her arms and gesturing with her chin to a pair of chairs and a small table against one wall, and a desk and chair set up with a personal monitor against another. “You might want to pick some art or something, too.”

Seven didn’t reply, still attempting to become familiar with the space. Art was irrelevant to daily function.

“We took the bed out for now, and popped your alcove there,” Honigsberg said, stepping across the space to where a Borg Alcove had been inserted into the corner formed by two walls. It struck her as oddly designed—no steps leading up to the alcove, and recessed into some of the supporting superstructure—but as far as she could tell at a glance, the alcove appeared functional.

“Fresher is through there,” Honigsberg said, pointing to a small break in the wall. “And I added you to the replicator ration allotment and set up your personal replicator.” Honigsberg crossed to the wall, where the standard food replicator unit lit up at his approach. “I wasn’t sure when you’d be using it, but that way we don’t have to come back and bother you later.”

It occurred to Seven of Nine Honigsberg’s words were intended to remind her this space was hers. It was an odd concept, but she couldn’t dismiss the notion it pleased her on some level she couldn’t yet articulate.

“Oh, before I forget,” Lan said, opening the desk drawer and pulling out a slender red cylinder Seven of Nine recognized as the gifted “night light” from Doctor Fitzgerald. “Doctor Fitzgerald is on the Caatati ships again right now, but he wanted me to make sure we brought this down from the Cargo Bay for you. Lan eyed the device, then put it on the desk. “You can figure out where you’d like to put it.”

Seven of Nine acknowledged the night light with a simple nod. “I will run a diagnostic on the alcove,” she said, given that was the intended duty they’d requested of her.

“Right,” Honigsberg said, rubbing his goatee with one hand again. “When you’re done, I know Lieutenant Taitt was intending to spend some time with Crewman Abol in the modular lab going over plans for the Astrometrics lab. I’m sure they’d appreciate your help if everything checks out here.” The chief engineer took a step towards the door. “But if you have any trouble, just let me know.”

“I will.”

He bobbed his head, and was gone.

“I’ll be on the Bridge if you need anything, Seven,” Lan said, exiting with less fidgeting and tonal shifts in her vocalizations.

Seven of Nine initiated a diagnostic in the Borg alcove, using the circular interface and both hands the way she had done for the majority of her existence, and waited for the information to display on the small screen, rather than simply knowing. Her cortical node still allowed her a much more rapid exchange of information with Voyager’s various interfaces, but Doctor Fitzgerald had stated the visual and tactile inputs were the preferred method.

So, she adapted.

After a half-hour, Seven of Nine believed she had confirmed that Ensign Lan and Lieutenant Honigsberg’s efforts had been successful. At the end of her duties, she would regenerate here, in her quarters, rather than in Cargo Bay Two.

Functionally, there was no difference.

Again, however, Seven of Nine couldn’t dismiss a similar emotional reaction as the one inspired by seeing her name on the door.

*

“And you, I’m told, are our final guest today?” Sullivan’s manor had remained chipper and upbeat for the entire six hours—and two tri-ox shots—they’d been working already, and Rollins was starting to think he needed to find a way to get Sullivan rotated through his Security department at some point.

She was good. Her discussion with each Caatati that had come through the door had absolutely stayed on track to gather their medical history, learn about any issues they might be having, and had, more than once, led her to make notes for a future visit to Voyager’s Sickbay for individuals who she wanted to run by Kes or Emmett for a more detailed examination, but she also managed to adroitly lead conversations down paths that allowed the individual Caatati to speak their minds about whatever it was they cared to discuss.

Which, more often than not, had been the Kradin. To a point Rollins was no longer just curious about what the Caatati were discussing, but more on the side of alarmed.

“Yes,” the slender Caatati man said, taking the seat where Sullivan gestured. She started scanning him with her medical tricorder after asking him his name—Jorul—and asking him if he had any health concerns he wanted to bring up with her right away—he didn’t.

Her medical tricorder chirped away in a tone Rollins knew meant it was reporting something non-threatening but not standard, and Sullivan paused, lowering the scanner to meet the Caatati’s gaze. “Headache?” she said.

“Sometimes,” Jorul said. “It’s better these days. I fathom it’s your plantings.”

Sullivan blinked, frowning, then her expression shifted to understanding. “You get headaches when you don’t eat enough?”

“Yes,” Jorul said.

“Hypoglycaemia,” Sullivan said, nodding slowly. “Well, I can take the edge off the symptom right now, but until those plantings are more abundant, I’m going to give you a nutritional supplement hypo as well, if you’re willing?”

Jorul nodded. “You’re very kind.”

“It’s what we do,” Sullivan said, taking her hypo and pressing it against the slender Caatati’s neck, then swapping the cartridge out again for another shot. He barely winced.

“We didn’t act in a way to deserve it,” Jorul said. “Not before.”

Sullivan put one hand on his shoulder. “Your people wouldn’t be the first to make bad choices in bad circumstances.”

Jorul sighed. “I suppose.”

“Well,” Sullivan said. “By the time we’re through Kradin space, I’m willing to bet you won’t be having those headaches anywhere near as much.”

“The Kradin,” Jorul said, his small mouth turning down in distaste, and his stooped head rising taller on his weak neck, almost upright. “I’d rather we be done with them soon-after.”

“Right,” Sullivan said, with only a slight fading of her smile.

“Thank you,” Jorul said, rising off the chair and leaving.

Sullivan waited until he Cargo Bay doors had closed behind him, then turned to look at Rollins. “Was it just me, or did every other person have nothing good to say about the Kradin?”

“Not just you,” Rollins said, helping her put away some of the equipment she’d pulled out throughout the last few hours. He took as deep a breath as he could in the thin atmosphere. “Once we’re back on Voyager, we’ll know if it’s the same from the other ships, but I don’t like it.”

“I know the Kradin hadn’t welcomed the Caatati into their space, but they seem almost angry about it—and the Caatati don’t strike me as easily angered.” Sullivan shook her head, closing her medical tricorder. “But even Jorul there. The moment I mentioned the Kradin…” She shook her head.

“You’re great at that, by the way,” Rollins said. “If you ever want to transfer to Security, just let me know.”

Sullivan laughed. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Getting people to talk is an EMT staple.”

They finished gathering their supplies, and when the first officer and commander of the ship came to thank them for their efforts, they said polite farewells and called to Voyager to beam back. Rollins felt a headache settling in between his eyebrows, and Sullivan gave him a hit of something from a hypo and told him to make sure he took it easy for the next couple of hours, but he didn’t want to waste time, and went back to his office.

There, he pulled out his tricorder and found it had managed to capture partial signals no less than four times during their stay on the small Caatati ship. He fed the recordings into the computer, and then sighed at the level of reconstruction available.

After checking the time and biting his lip, he tapped his combadge anyway. “Rollins to Cir.”

“Go a head, Lieutenant.”

“I’m sorry to bother you so late, but any chance you’re free to try and reconstruct some partial transmissions into something like a conversation?”

“Of course,” the linguist said. “Send the files my way.”

“Thank you,” Rollins said, and did just that. Then he saw he had the first report from Ensign Moore, who’d gone over with Doctor Fitzgerald and Ensign Kovar to one of the other Caatati ships, and he opened it.

Within moments, the relief he’d felt at having Cir on the job had faded.

Nearly half the time the Kradin were brought up, Moore’s report stated, I’d categorize the reaction as antagonistic to hostile.

Rollins tapped his combadge again.

“Rollins to Ro,” he said. “Commander, do you have a moment?”

Chapter Text

“You want to call off the medical away teams?” Doctor Emmett Hall stared at Rollins with what Rollins knew was simulated frustration, but it sure looked realistic.

“Potentially,” Rollins said, glancing at Commander Ro for a second before he continued. He’d known this wouldn’t be easy, but Emmett was taking it rather personally. “Something is going on among some of the Caatati ships. What appears to be some sort of organizing series of encoded and direct-beam communications are passing from ship-to-ship, and alongside the anti-Kradin sentiment all the teams reported, I’d rather not have our people on Caatati ships at the next checkpoint, Doctor, not if we haven’t figured out what’s going on.”

“And if we haven’t figured out what’s going on, we just ignore those waiting for treatments we already told them were coming?” Emmett said, crossing his arms. “What do we tell them, Lieutenant?”

“There’s every chance we might not have to tell them anything, Doctor,” Rollins said. “It’s possible by then we’ll have cracked these signals—Cir’s already working on it—and if we do and it turns out to be nothing, you’ll move forward as planned, though I’d like to increase the security component.”

Emmett sighed, and turned to face Ro. “I take you agree with his assessment?”

“I do,” Ro said, and Rollins appreciated the backup. “We already know the Caatati can act without thinking things through, Doctor. If they’re planning some sort of revenge against the Kradin for how the Kradin treated them earlier, Lieutenant Rollins is right. I don’t want to hand them members of Voyager’s crew they could use as hostages.”

“I see.” Emmett shifted his crossed arms, tightening them across his chest. “The four largest Caatati ships still remain. By virtue of those ships having had some ability to handle medical issues—though no-one truly trained, nor much in the way of supplies—the highest concentration of Caatati needing medical care are on those four ships. I cannot stress enough how important it is we consider the health of those people.”

“Like I said.” Rollins made his voice as gentle as it would go. “I hope we’ll have this cracked before the next check-point, but if we don’t, it may have to wait.”

Emmett’s arms dropped. “Well. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll prepare regardless.”

“Of course,” Rollins said, and Emmett left the doctor’s office. He winced, glancing at Ro.

“It was never going to go over well,” she said.

“No,” he said. “I’ll check in with Cir and Cing’ta. See how they’re doing.”

“The Captain wants to know at the first concrete sign of potential hostility,” Ro said. “He reached out to Rahmin and Lumas, casually, and saw no sign of anything worrisome. If this turns into hostility and a mutiny, the Kradin might not stay so welcoming.”

“I know,” Rollins said, shaking his head. “I know the Kradin didn’t want the Caatati wandering around their territory begging for scraps, but is it just me, or is the hostility I saw overblown? Especially now the Kradin are letting them pass through their borders to get to that moon Taitt found for them.”

“It can be hard to forgive the people who looked the other way when you were suffering,” Ro said, in a softer voice than Rollins was used to hearing.

“You think they’re still hurting.” He looked at her, and she lifted one shoulder slightly.

“I think the kind of hurt that comes from losing almost everything leaves pretty deep scars.” Ro pushed off from the wall beside Emmett’s desk. “But I hope the Caatati aren’t foolish enough to pick a fight with the Kradin. Especially not given their flotilla hasn’t seen proper maintenance cycle in over a year.”

Rollins had to agree. They left Sickbay together, parting ways in the hallway.

Hopefully they’d have this sorted out long before it came to any crisis point.

*

Doctor Jeff Fitzgerald eyed his group of students and marvelled at the changes the months had provided. When he’d first started with this group—his third, which barely seemed possible but also somehow felt exactly right—they’d shown little-to-no signs of even wanting to work together. Velar and Kaurit believed themselves more than capable to take positions on Voyager given their history on the T’Vran, and while there was some merit to their opinion, the two Vulcans hadn’t exactly proven themselves as welcoming to the third Vulcan, Mestral, their temporally displaced addition from the late nineteen hundreds on Earth.

Moreover, they’d both had a tendency to treat Jal Karden, 1106, and Setok as curiosities at best, or with thinly-veiled Vulcan superiority at worst, and while both were more comfortable with Yareth owing to their knowing her for years and she having joined Voyager alongside them from the T’Vran, even she they treated as lesser-than, owing to their positions on the T’Vran.

While Yareth and 1106 tended towards peace-keeping, Mestral had a sly delight in offering debate to positions Velar and Kaurit took almost as a matter of habit, and both Setok and Jal Karden were eager to prove themselves capable in their roles.

No, it hadn’t started smoothly. And assigning Mestral as Velar’s second-in-command on their various training scenarios had definitely set things off to a rougher start, but Fitzgerald’s instincts had been right—the two worked better together that way, with both their drives to succeed at least nominally aligned under their joint leadership.

But now, watching even Velar simply listen as Setok walked them through what they’d be doing in the Gardens today, he saw a team. A microcosm of a crew that had learned enough from each other to know how to communicate, how to work together, and—one of the hardest lessons for nearly the entire group—understanding when another member of their group was the expert in any given area.

“Given how much we depleted our gardens to aid the Caatati, I really appreciate you all agreeing to make this part of our science training rotation.” Setok paused, and aimed a glance at Jal Karden. “Especially you, Karden. I know this isn’t exactly your favourite activity.”

But to Fitzgerald’s surprise, Karden laughed, and said, “I don’t mind, really.” When he’d first come on board Voyager, Karden had chafed at being asked to work in the Garden, which his Kazon heritage had taught him was “women’s work” and something warriors wouldn’t—shouldn’t—do. He’d adjusted his views on his own culture so much in the last few years, and Fitzgerald was proud of him for it.

He’d grown so much, and not just physically, though now he was as tall as Fitzgerald himself, and broader. Physical adulthood seemed to land younger among Kazon than humans.

“We’ve got the stored seeds in stasis and the plants we’ve let go to seed—that’ll be a bit trickier, but I can walk you through them plant by plant,” Setok said, picking up the thread of his instruction again. “Ideally, I’d like to get all the seedling trays started so that my father and Ensign Bronowski can spend their shift working on the soil biochemistry when they get here. Frankly, anything we accomplish will put us further back on track.”

“I see no reason we cannot succeed at the intended goal,” Velar said, regarding the group with her usual directness.

“Agreed,” Mestral said. “It reminds me of Victory gardens. If we want to eat, we work for it.”

“Victory gardens?” Yareth said, her soft voice curious.

“I’ll explain while we work,” Mestral said, and Fitzgerald had to hide a smile, because Mestral had needed some gentle nudges to adjust his storytelling—often about his time on Earth—to be something less distracting in the face of their activities.

“Great,” Setok said. “One, why don’t you and I start with bringing in the seeds from storage—Kaurit, could you start preparing the trays for planting with Yareth?”

“Of course,” Kaurit said, nodding, as 1106 joined Setok at the front of the room.

“Velar, if you and Mestral don’t mind starting with the Zooabud potatoes? They’ve started to sprout eyes, so all you have to do is cut them in pieces; we’ll be planting them cut-side-down, eyes up, but first they all have to be cut into pieces at least five centimetres and containing at least one eye—you might get three or four from a potato, but even two is fine.” He lifted his shoulder in a mild apology, like he knew he was asking two very talented, intelligent people to bisect potatoes, which wasn’t exactly the most valuable use of their time. “Once One and I are back, we can move on to more delicate work, but the potatoes are one of our best producers, and I know my father wanted to start there.”

“Understood,” Velar said, simply.

Fitzgerald watched them work long enough to be sure they were on track, then checked his PADD. No update from Rollins. Most of the reason the cadets were working here today was because Cir and Eru were focusing on the signal decryption, but another part of why he’d slotted this time here was his intention to leave them to it, and taking Ensign Kovar away as well, if Voyager and the Caatati reached the checkpoint and they went ahead with the medical away missions to more of the Caatati ships.

But there was still no update, and the next checkpoint would be soon.

Maybe he and Ensign Kovar would be getting their hands dirty here in the Gardens after all.

*

When Crewman Eru rose from her chair to stretch for the third time and started walking the length of the Life Sciences lab, Ensign Sahreen Lan leaned back in her own chair and regarded her. The pixieish blond woman wore a maternity tunic upper uniform jacket, though the curves of her pregnancy—carried to either side of her ribs more than in front like most humanoids—weren’t very pronounced yet, but Sahreen had seen enough pregnant women in her four lifetimes to spot the particular fatigues of the process, even if Eru was the first pregnant Ocampa she’d ever met.

“Are you okay, Eru?” Lan said, tempering down the worry in her voice lest she interrupt Cir, who’d been face-down in signals and messages and translation algorithms for hours now. Cir, a gentle giant of a man and Voyager’s incredibly talented linguist, would drop anything and everything for Eru if he thought she needed him.

“I’m fine, Sahreen,” Eru said. “The little ones don’t enjoy chairs.” She gestured to the seats they shared around the shared table interface they were using, littered with PADDs and the tricorder Lieutenant Rollins had brought them. “I should probably swap to a stool, and then get used to standing.” She smiled. “A lot of Ocampa women give up on chairs by their half-way point, but I’ve still got two weeks until then.”

“I’m surprised the Ocampa never designed something more specifically comfortable for themselves,” Lan said, considering. Armless chairs came in all sorts of options. And surely they could find a design that didn’t put pressure on Eru’s sides or mitrals without giving up on supporting her weight. “We can check the replicator files, or come up with something from scratch.”

“The Ocampa weren’t big on innovation,” Cir said, raising his gaze to join the conversation. “And the Elders would always tell us it was the will of the Caretaker to maintain our customs, even when they were being nothing but cowards.”

Lan blinked. That was a bit harsh, and not the usual tone she expected from Cir. Then again, they had been at this for hours. Time to change the subject. “Any luck? We’re due to drop out of warp any minute for the third checkpoint.” She cracked a smile. “I’m pretty sure Emmett will be barging in here any minute with his mobile emitter and a chip on his shoulder.”

“I’ve fathomed everything I can,” Cir said, still speaking with a low rumble she wasn’t used to hearing from the Ocampa. He pulled the old-style ear-piece he tended to use during translation work out of his ear. “The fullness of it? They’re wrestling with how to tend for themselves against the Beasts.”

“What?” Lan said.

“Cir?” Eru said.

Cir shook his head, visibly angry, his dark eyes flashing with barely constrained fury. “They’re drilling—no backwalk, no slying—the motherless Beasts need to be nullified!” He swept one arm across the desk, scattering PADDs in all directions.

Lan moved between Eru and Cir, and tapped her combadge. “Lan to Sickbay. I need you in the Life Sciences Lab, now.” When Cir growled and rose from his chair, brandishing a type-one phaser he seemed to have been hiding somewhere on his person, she added, “And bring security—” just before he stunned her.

*

“Captain, we’re here,” Stadi said, only moments after Rollins and Ro had left for the Life Sciences lab to see what the hell was happening down there.

Cavit swallowed. “Drop out of warp,” he said, glancing over at Ensign Connor Mannus, manning ops. “Signal to the Caatati to take their positions in the designated Kradin co-ordinates.”

“Aye, Captain,” Mannus said, tapping in commands and speaking quietly, as competent as ever. He was a calm, even-tempered sort, handsome and younger than his silvering hair would suggest—something Cavit had often secretly empathized with though he’d never verbalized it to the ensign, who would no doubt be embarrassed.

“Captain,” Stadi said, frowning at the Conn panels in front of her. “Some of the Caatati ships are breaking formation.”

“What?” Cavit rose from his seat, facing Tactical. “Lang?”

Ensign Deborah Lang, the slight, dark-haired woman who’d taken Tactical when Rollins left, nodded, working her station. “Confirmed, sir, I read eleven Caatati ships adjusting their course—one has jumped to warp… two of them… Captain, all eleven ships are warping away.”

“Captain, the Kradin Military Command are hailing us,” Mannus said, lifting his hazel-brown gaze from his display. “Vehemently, sir.”

“I’ll bet,” Cavit said, smoothing his uniform tunic. “Lang, keep an eye on every one of those ships.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Okay, Connor,” Cavit said, nodding at Mannus. “Let’s see if we can salvage this. Open a channel.”

“Captain, you might want to belay that,” Stadi said, turning in her chair. “The Aeroshuttle is launching.”

What the hell is happening? Cavit stepped forward. “Can we lock it down?”

“Too late,” Stadi said.

*

“Report,” Rollins said, as he and Ro came to the Life Sciences Lab and found Ensign Sitar and Crewman Kat Hughes side-by-side at the Lab’s door, working on the control panel with focus but definitely also speed. Hughes had the wall panel off and had one arm half-way inside the internal workings, cross-connecting relays one by one. To the left of the Lab doors, Emmett and Crewman Sullivan stood waiting, medkits in hand and expressions grim.

“The doors are locked, and a scattering field has been erected inside the lab itself,” Ensign Sitar said, the Vulcan woman’s fingers not slowing at all on the panel. “I am attempting to override the lock, but the mechanism seems to be encrypted in a most complex manner.”

“Kat?” Ro said.

“I’m attempting to give the ensign a more… Maquis solution, Commander,” Hughes said. “Remember the hotel in the Lyshan system?”

Ro smiled, and Rollins decided he wanted to hear that story as soon as possible.

Emmett had pulled out his medical tricorder but he lifted it, his expression remaining less than optimistic. “I can’t even detect lifesigns through that scattering field,” he said.

“Here we go,” Hughes said, as something inside the panel sparked alarmingly. “Try again, Sitar.”

“The security algorithm has been bypassed,” Sitar said, raising one eyebrow. “I believe I am able to—”

The doors to the lab slid open, and Ro and Rollins drew their hand-phasers, Rollins holding up one hand to Emmett and Sullivan to stop them jumping forward, even as Sitar and Hughes took either side of the door in covering positions before Rollins through enough for an initial sweep.

Two figures lay sprawled on the floor from his vantage point.

“Lan and Eru are down, I don’t see Cir,” Rollins said, stepping back again. “Ready?” he faced Ro.

She nodded, and they stepped through together, Sitar and Hughes following, and they cleared the space quickly enough. “Clear.”

Emmett and Sullivan were there a beat later. Sullivan scanning Lan and Emmett scanning Eru. “She’s been stunned,” Emmett said. “But she and her children appear stable.”

“Lan too,” Sullivan said. “No sign of other trauma.”

“How did the security system not trip over phaser fire?” Hughes said.

“Good question,” Ro said, but Rollins, stepping up to the main display, had a pretty good idea.

“Oh no,” he said, realizing the code he was seeing on the screen was more than a little familiar, then tapped his combadge. “Rollins to Cing’ta.”

Silence.

Ro frowned at him. “Ro to Cing’ta,” she said, tapping her own badge.

“Rollins to Moore. Rollins to Cir,” Rollins tried, to the same silence.

“What is it?” Ro said.

“I’m not sure, yet,” Rollins said. “But that’s Cing’ta’s security code there, bypassing a half-dozen or more lockouts, and we’re missing an expert in cryptography and language, and the door was locked with one hell of a password.”

“Cavit to Ro.” The Captain’s voice was tense, and Rollins took a breath, ready to hear the worst.

“Go ahead, Captain.”

“Lieutenant Cing’ta, Ensign Moore, and Crewman Cir seem to have stolen the Aeroshuttle and joined a group of eleven Caatati ships at warp. Any light you can shed would be welcome, as I’ve got a dozen Kradin vessels aiming their energy weapons our way.”

Ro nodded at Rollins, and he lifted his chin. “Captain, I believe Cir stunned Ensign Lan and Crewman Eru, and the three of them bypassed multiple security systems to get themselves to the Aeroshuttle. They are all dealing with the Caatati signals, but we don’t know much else.”

“Doctor,” Cavit’s said. “Can we wake them?”

“I wouldn’t want to put any undue strain on Crewman Eru’s system given her pregnancy, but I believe we can wake Ensign Lan,” Emmett said. “But she won’t thank us for it.”

“Do it.”

Rollins watched as Emmett pressed a hypo to Lan’s neck, hoping she woke with some answers.

Chapter Text

Captain Aaron Cavit lifted both hands, palms up, and softened his voice as much as he could while he spoke to the very angry, very large alien on his viewscreen.

“We’re trying to learn what happened, and will be completely transparent with you with all of our findings,” Cavit said, trying not to stare directly into the Kradin officer’s mouth opening, where the circle of sharp, inward pointing fangs were undulating. It seemed like the pissed off Kradin would like nothing better than to bite something.

Or someone.

The turbolift opened behind him and Lieutenant Commander Ro came onto the bridge, her eyes flicking to the tactical station readouts as she strode past them, Cavit noted, and joined him.

“I’ve got an initial report for you,” she said, glancing at the screen.

“I was just telling Colonel Vreel here that I intended to be completely transparent,” Cavit said, giving her a direct look he hoped conveyed their situation. They were surrounded, outnumbered, and while the Caatati were at least currently keeping calm—mostly thanks to Rahmin—they needed answers, fast. “Go ahead.”

Ro nodded, and she shifted her stance to face not just Cavit, but including the Colonel as well. “Three of our crew were investigating strange signal activity among the Caatati flotilla—signals all passing between the eleven ships that left the formation. They were listening to and decoding some intercepted signals and it seems to have affected them somehow.” She paused, taking a breath. “One of them attacked two of their cremates, and the three of them took our shuttle without permission, bypassing security protocols in the process.” She lifted her chin. “The crewman in question also had a lot of hostility toward your people, which makes no sense. I have my people analyzing the signals now—more carefully, for obvious reasons—but our doctor believes he’s already found frequencies that may induce a psychotropic effect, up to and including hallucinations and emotional manipulation.”

Silence followed the proclamation, and Cavit frowned. If someone had told him that after something like this, he’d be asking for proof, access to the data himself, or—depending on his level of trust—scoffing at such a claim.

Colonel Vreel, however, simply listened.

“You’re not surprised,” Lieutenant Veronica Stadi said from the Conn, echoing Cavit’s own thoughts and confirming them, given her telepathic abilities were likely picking up more than he could read from the alien’s inscrutable features.

“Why aren’t you surprised, Colonel?” Cavit said, crossing his arms.

“I’m afraid you’re not cleared for this information, Captain Cavit,” Vreel said.

“Stadi?” Ro said, stepping forward to where the Conn officer looked up at the screen.

“The Vori,” Stadi said. “Somehow, he believes this was the Vori.”

Colonel Vreel’s fangs undulated again. “How do you know this?”

“The Vori are the people you’re at war with,” Cavit said. “They’re the ones you warned us not to speak with, not to interact with in any way…” He tilted his head. “What aren’t you telling us? Because right now, those enemies of yours seem to have just gotten their hands on some of my best trained people—and our technology, which you have to realize is superior to yours in many ways, and includes our replication and transporter systems.”

The Colonel took a visible breath, his chest rising and falling. “The Vori… conscript their own, and any others who pass by into their armies using methods that sound very much like what you are describing.” He paused. “One of the reasons our planetary battles continue is how hard it is to defeat an enemy who can turn your own troops against you.”

“You’re talking about brainwashing,” Cavit said. “You’re saying the Vori condition people into hating the Kradin, and make them want to join their side against you?”

“Yes, Captain.” Vreel paused. “And apparently, they’ve learned how to do so via communication signals.”

*

“Walk me through it, Emmett,” Rollins said, looking at the display on the screen and seeing only lines and numbers and colours that could have meant anything to him. “What was done to them?”

The hologram faced him. “Interpolating from what the signal would likely do to most humanoid brains, I believe Lieutenant Cing’ta, Ensign Moore, and Crewman Cir now believe whatever it was the sender of the signal wants them to believe.” He pointed. “Given the simulation’s projected effect on the hypothalamus, I believe I could convince you your mother was a turnip after exposure.”

“Safe to say they aimed their message in a more hostile direction,” Rollins said. “Against the Kradin.”

“Crewman Cir stunned Ensign Lan and Crewman Eru,” Nurse T’Prena said. “Given Lieutenant Cing’ta had disabled the internal sensor detection of energy weapons fire, Crewman Cir could have just as easily used a more lethal setting.” She tilted her chin. “He did not.”

“I noticed that,” Rollins said, nodding. “Moore and Cing’ta bumped into Crewman Hawks and Ensign T’Pala in the Aeroshuttle dock—they were doing maintenance work. Cing’ta and Moore stunned them, too.”

The door to Sickbay opened, and Captain Cavit, Lieutenant Commander Ro, and Doctor Fitzgerald entered.

“Report,” Cavit said, and Emmett walked them through the same information he’d just given Rollins. Their expressions were equally grim as his own.

“Colonel Vreel believes the Kradin will be willing to give us what information they have on the Vori ‘conscription’ techniques, but I don’t want to wait a moment longer than we have to,” Cavit said. “Lieutenant Cing’ta has a transporter and a replicator on the Aeroshuttle, and a hell of a lot of skill at infiltrating. He’ll do real damage on behalf of the Vori thanks to this brainwashing if we don’t stop him.”

“Not just him,” Rollins said. “Moore has a tactical mind, and though I had no idea he had it in him, Cir was the one who scrambled and locked out half the sensor systems, from the Life Sciences Lab, when he was apparently just pretending to work.”

“Alex says he’s almost done restoring the internal sensors,” Ro said. “Cir’s encryptions were complex.”

“He’s not going to forgive himself for stunning Eru,” Fitzgerald said, shaking his head.

“Crewman Eru and her children are fine,” Emmett said. “And Nurse T’Prena and Lieutenant Rollins think the use of a stun setting might be something of a silver lining.”

Fitzgerald frowned at T’Prena and Rollins. “You do?”

“It’s not enough to bet on,” Rollins said. “But it speaks to them still caring about their fellow crew. They stunned Hughes and T’Pala, too. They could have really hurt them instead.”

“So we might be able to reason with them,” Cavit said.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Emmett said, shaking his head, and pointing back at the display. “This level of manipulation will have them heavily suggestible. If the Vori specifically tell them you are their enemy, I believe they would act accordingly.”

“So how do we undo it?” Rollins said.

“We’d have to undo all that influence,” Fitzgerald said, pointing at the display. “They may still hear and process what they’re seeing—albeit through a warped lens—and it might be possible to talk them down, but if that influence continues, it will be a losing battle.”

“I believe I can modify a communication signal to counter the psychotropic wavelengths,” Emmett said. “But the effect won’t be immediate, and they’d have to listen.”

“Meaning once we find them and hail them, if they don’t answer or choose to close the channel, we won’t get anywhere,” Ro said.

“I’m afraid so,” Emmett said.

“We have to try,” Cavit said. “We’ve got their heading, and it’s pretty clear they’re heading to what the Kradin listed as a contested world—the Vori have about half the planet, the Kradin the other half—but as far as we can tell, the Vori have never had much in the way of vessels larger than shuttles to work with.”

“So we need to clear everyone’s heads before it’s too late,” Ro said. “Can we punch the signal strength to the point where it doesn’t matter if they want to listen?” She eyed Fitzgerald and Emmett, who didn’t look particularly confident at the idea, but didn’t dismiss it out of hand.

“That might be a question for Alex or Sahreen,” Fitzgerald said.

“I’m worried such a boost in power would undo some of the required nuance,” Emmett said. “Think of it less as a siren and more as a counterpoint in a musical piece.”

Ro just stared at him, and Rollins wondered if Emmett had considered exactly which sort of metaphor he’d just aimed her way—then had another thought. It if didn’t have to be loud…

“Wait. What about a combadge?” Rollins said, thinking of a more direct approach. “If it doesn’t have to be a siren, can we rig our combadges to transmit this signal?”

“Yes, but only at a much closer range,” Emmett said, frowning. “And if they chose not to receive the signal, the same problem exists.”

“Not if we don’t give them the choice, like Commander Ro suggested,” Rollins said. Cavit and Ro both turned to face him, and Rollins saw the moment they realized what he was thinking. “If we’re standing right in front of them, they don’t have to answer the call to hear us.”

“You want to beam on board the Caatati ships and the Aeroshuttle,” Fitzgerald said. “Bring the signal with you.”

“It’s our best shot, right, Emmett?” Rollins said, raising one eyebrow.

Emmett nodded, albeit reluctantly. “It has the merit of not being avoided, but I need to remind you the others will not be their usual selves—they’ve been cognitively and emotionally programmed for hostility toward the Kradin—that can only colour how they interact with you for the worse.”

“So we deprogram them,” Rollins said.

“Put your teams together,” Cavit said, then turned to face Emmett. “Emmett, I’ll need those signals as soon as possible.” He sighed. “Now I need to go convince the Kradin to let us chase down our brainwashed crew, before it’s too late.”

“Actually, Captain,” Rollins said, shaking his head. “If they see us coming, they could easily raise shields.” He put as much confidence into his voice as he could for this next part, because he was fairly sure no one would like it, least of all Captain Cavit. “I think we may need a different approach—we might need to give the Vori an opportunity they won’t turn down.”

*

Inside the Cochrane, Rollins crouched low and watched as Lieutenant Veronica Stadi adjusted their course with a series of pulses to the impulse engines, flying on passive sensor readings only, the kelbonite-fistrium visor closed over the windows of the shuttle, denying him even a glance outside to confirm anything he thought he understood from her panel readouts.

He tried not to loom, but he hadn’t been able to remain seated for longer than an hour.

“You were born for this,” he said now, watching Stadi fly.

“I know,” Stadi said, with that cool-but-teasing voice she used when she was in the zone. “Though when we get home, feel free to submit that in writing to my mother.”

“She wasn’t keen on you being a pilot?” The question came from behind them, where, alongside Rebecca Sullivan and Ensign Sitar, Crewman Kat Hughes leaned forward, her brown eyes curious.

“Do not get her started on her mother,” Ensign Sahreen Lan said from the Ops position. “We want her attention on flying, Kat.”

“I can do both,” Stadi said, and Rollins could hear the smile in her voice. “I have a lot of practice at carrying maternal frustration alongside other things.” She paused. “I think we’ve got what might be the power signatures of the Caatati engines on the edge of sensor range.”

“Yes,” Lan said. “Those are definitely thorium isotopes.” She smiled to herself. “I knew we’d be able to see them, even with passive sensors.”

“And the Aeroshuttle?” Rollins said, looking at what passed for sensor readings and thinking Lan was far, far better at interpreting background noise as a “reading” than he was.

“That’ll take a little longer or us getting quite a bit closer,” Lan said. “But we’ll get it.”

“Last communication from Voyager said the Kradin picket had managed to corner them here,  but that they hadn’t engaged in any meaningful way yet,” Rollins said. “Here’s hoping that continues long enough for us to stop them before they decide to make a move.”

“I’m going to risk another impulse adjustment,” Stadi said. “Send us toward them, a little faster.” She eyed Rollins, even though it was her call as the ranking officer, knowing he was the one who’d be taking the risks once they got close enough. He nodded, agreeing with the move.

The shuttle rocked gently again. Thanks to the Kelbonite-Fistrium coating they’d gotten from the humans of Arde, the Cochrane could—if working at as low power as possible and keeping its sensors on a passive mode—almost vanish from sensors. It gave Voyager a stealth option, and it was one they’d used before.

That being the weak point in their plan, of course—it was a tactic all three of the compromised crew on the Aeroshuttle already knew of. Still, it was their best shot at getting close enough.

“No sign of shields,” Lan said. “My readings of the thorium isotopes are too strong for the Caatati ships to have raised their shields.” She glanced at Rollins. “Looks like the Captain’s plan to have the Kradin ‘negotiate’ is working.”

“Fingers crossed Emmett’s anti-brainwashing filters are also working,” Sullivan said. “Otherwise we’re just adding more soldiers to the Vori side.”

“Don’t say things like that out loud,” Lan said, shaking her head. “It begs the universe to deliver.”

Rollins noticed Ensign Sitar raise one eyebrow, but the Vulcan woman didn’t say anything. He aimed a small shrug her way, and she returned it with an impassive expression of her own. The picket—and opening channels of discussion with the Caatati ships and the Aeroshuttle—had been his idea as well. The Kradin had finally admitted the Vori had previously used their “Nemesis” programming on the Kradin in the past, and Rollins was gambling on the Vori wanting to use their newfound ability to transmit the conditioning as widely as possible—hence the way the Caatati had seemed to be programmed to share the Vori brainwashing signals among each other throughout their time in Kradin space, and how—according to the logs, at least—Cir had done the same with Moore and Cing’ta once he’d listened to the unfiltered signal himself.

Rollins was gambling the Caatati would waste enough time talking with the Kradin to allow them to catch up.

“I’ve got the Aeroshuttle,” Lan said, pointing at a smudgy little spike on her sensor readings. “That’s definitely a Federation warp signature.”

“If you say so,” Stadi said, with a small smile.

“I do,” Lan said. “And if I’m wrong, we’ll try to beam everyone back before they freeze.”

“That’s really not funny,” Sullivan said.

“Agreed,” Rollins said, earning a sly little grin and shrug from Lan.

“I see it now,” Stadi said, nodding at her readings. “Definitely the Aeroshuttle. We’ll drift within transporter range in two minutes.”

“All right,” Rollins said. “We can’t scan the interior, but tactically, I’m assuming at least two of them will be on the Aeroshuttle’s Bridge, and it’s possible one might be in Engineering, but I’d place my chips on all three being on the Bridge. According to Doctor Fitzgerald, during all their bridge training, Cir stuck to the science station or a back-up panel monitoring signals. He’ll be the one pushing the Nemesis signal through.”

“Cing’ta will have Tactical, leaving Moore the Conn,” Lan said, pretty definitively.

“He’s not a bad pilot,” Stadi said. “But no threat to me, if it comes to it. The other eleven ships, however…”

“If they spot you and make a move, raise shields and get out of here,” Rollins said, though he couldn’t technically order Stadi to do it. “If we can recover the Aeroshuttle, we’ll be able to start dealing with the other Caatati ships as well.”

“If,” Sullivan said, lifting her medkit and sliding it over one shoulder.

“Logically,” Sitar said, speaking for the first time since she’d climbed aboard. “As we outnumber the Aeroshuttle crew and they may not expect us, the element of surprise may allow a more tactical solution should the initial plan not succeed.”

Hughes smiled. “Meaning stun them all, if we can’t deprogram them.”

“As I said,” Sitar nodded.

“Okay,” Lan said. ”I’ve got enough to target a transporter beam with. We’ll have to power the transporters back up, which could tip them off if they’re looking for us, but regardless I should get you beamed over there before they can react.”

“Phasers out,” Rollins said. “Set to stun. Activate your com badges.” He double-tapped his own combadge, and while he didn’t hear anything, it chirped to let him know it was now transmitting Emmett’s counter-signals.

“Powering up the transporters,” Lan said, and then, a moment later, “Energizing.”

*

Cir continued to increase the strength of the signal from the Aeroshuttle while Lieutenant Cing’ta spoke to the motherless beast on the viewscreen. It took every effort he had not to simply snarl invectives at the horrid creature, who cared nothing for anyone unlike itself, but he knew if they could keep this channel open long enough, keep them talking, that they could turn the beasts against their own. Make them see the truth of their own nature, to the point where they’d destroy themselves.

“Your claim on this planet is unwarranted, and unwelcome,” the beast on the screen said, its voice low and animal-like to Cir’s ears. “But as we have stated, we will negotiate your peaceful retreat from this system if you agree to do so without violence. You are not Vori, and your fellow travellers are willing to abide by a Kradin escort directly out of our space.”

Liars. They beasts would kill their people, deny their comras rest in the afterlife, and steal their ships to kill more Vori.

The shimmer and almost-musical sound of a transport in progress made Cir turn, frowning, and he saw Lieutenant Cing’ta and Ensign Moore react faster than he did, both of them grabbing for their phasers and rising from their stations in the sleek Aeroshuttle’s Bridge before he’d even managed to draw his own weapon.

Unfortunately for them, the four Kradin who’d beamed onto the Aeroshuttle’s Bridge were faster and prepared, and they were both stunned.

“No!” Cir yelled, lifting his own phaser toward the beasts.

“Cir, no!” one of the Kradin said, and Cir frowned, because how did they know his name? “Cir, stop. It’s me. It’s Scott.”

Cir frowned, a fuzzy, oddly itchy sensation rubbing around the back of his skull, and he winced in discomfort, shifting in his seat. “You are Kradin,” he said, nearly spitting the word.

“No, I’m Lieutenant Scott Rollins,” the Kradin said, and as he spoke, this time he sounded like Rollins, which might have been a trick, only…

Cir grimaced, more of that itchy, uncomfortable feeling sending shivers down his spine. He closed his eyes, rubbing them with his free hand, and then, when he opened them again… The Kradin’s face, blurry now, showed another figure behind… Blue eyes, brown hair, a human mouth, not a the toothy lamprey-like maw of the Kradin and…

“Scott?” Cir said. “What..?”

The other Kradin were shifting, too. A Vulcan. One of them was a Vulcan woman.

Cir grunted. “My head. My head… itches.” He rubbed his temples with both hands, then realized he was holding a phaser in his right hand. He stared at it. “Oh no,” he said, memories flooding back to him. “Eru!”

What have I done?

“She’s okay,” came another familiar voice, a woman’s voice, and now the Kradin were all gone, and in their place stood four of Voyager’s crew, and the one who’d spoken was Rebecca Sullivan, who was approaching him with both her hands raised. “She’s fine, Cir. The babies are fine, too. I promise.”

“Lieutenant?” came the hated voice of the beast on the viewscreen, and Cir glared at the Kradin, nearly growling, then turned away, forcing himself to look at Sullivan, who made sense. Who promised him he hadn’t hurt his mate.

“We’ve got control here,” Rollins said, though Cir wasn’t sure what he was talking about. “We’ll have to repeat this process with the Caatati ships, but it looks like it’s working. Keep this channel open, and we’ll keep you appraised of our progress.”

Cir closed his eyes. His head was spinning, and it was like his own thoughts were fighting with himself. He heard the trill of a medical tricorder, and then felt the cool hiss of a hypo being pressed against his neck. When he opened his eyes again, Sullivan was looking at him with a gentle expression.

“Your brain chemistry is way off right now, Cir,” she said. “You’re probably feeling confused and angry, but what I gave you should take the edge off. Are you okay if I go check on Tom and Cing’ta now?”

Cir managed a nod. “The signal,” he said, looking up at Lieutenant Rollins once he was sure he could speak. “There was something in the signal. Beneath it. Hidden. I need to turn that off.” He turned and tapped a series of commands into his console with shaking fingers. “It… did something to us, but by the time I realized that, I was so angry.”

“That’s right,” Rollins said, moving to stand beside him. “We’ve got a counter-signal with us. We’ll need to broadcast it to the Caatati ships.”

“I can… I can do that,” Cir said, though he could barely concentrate on keeping his gaze on Lieutenant Rollins.

“We can handle it,” Rollins said, putting his hand on Cir’s shoulder and squeezing. “Why don’t you let Ensign Sitar take your station?”

Cir managed to get to his feet, and the Vulcan ensign slid in to his position, getting to work.

“I… I’m so sorry,” Cir said.

“It wasn’t you,” Rollins said. “Not really.”

Cir nodded, wanting to believe that. But he remembered stunning his mate, remembered sending the unfiltered signals to Ensign Moore and Lieutenant Cing’ta, and remembered adding encryption to the security lockouts Cing’ta had created.

He swallowed, hard.

“It wasn’t you,” Rollins said again.

“I am ready to send the signal,” Ensign Sitar said. “It appears there are tight beam transmission vectors already set up among all the Caatati ships.”

“That was me,” Cir said. “I did that. To make sure anyone who hadn’t already heard it would hear it. It seemed so important.”

“It will facilitate the counter-programming,” Sitar said, and initiated a command.

Cir closed his eyes again.

*

As weddings went, Kes didn’t have much experience to draw upon for comparison. She’d only ever been to one wedding in her entire life: the one between Captain Cavit and Doctor Fitzgerald. Their wedding had been particularly human, though they’d had the same officiant she and Li-Paz had today, Atara Ram.

Still, the ceremony had been similar. A shared promise spoken aloud in turns, an exchanging of jewellery—in their case, rings, and then a celebration to follow.

At the time, Kes had thought the ceremony binding the two men had been quite lovely, though she couldn’t help but think of it as strange. Why would they require a ceremony to choose to be together? What was the purpose of publicly declaring something anyone could see, even those without the telepathic senses she possessed?

But a conversation with Eru and Cir had made her realize the truth; the Ocampa way was the true outlier. Almost every other species in the database had some sort of bonding ceremony. Most species didn’t forge a connection in the manner of the Ocampa at all, in fact. Her elogium, now beginning in earnest, had cemented her love for Li-Paz far more securely than any spoken vow ever would, bonding her to the man she knew she would love like no other for the rest of her life.

Humans, and Vulcans, and Bolians, and every other species on board didn’t have that surety.

So they’d created ceremony to take its place. Public declarations of love, promises made in front of those they cared for the most to make the intention as clearly as possible.

As Kes stood opposite Li-Paz and repeated the Bajoran words she’d memorized, what she saw in his blue eyes—adoration, desire, pride—and what she felt in her heart and mind—the same, only with true depths and all the subtly woven layers of love, and fear for the future, and hope, and truly felt promises—combined into a whole she thought might very well be a match for what the Ocampa mind sought naturally among its own kind.

Li-Paz repeated the prayers for her, and they exchanged the charms they would add to their d’ja paghs to bind their families together on the earrings traditional to the Bajoran people, and Atara Ram officially presented their promises to each other and the Prophets as a request for them to make their fate together from this moment forward.

Kes barely heard a word of it. She could only look at Li-Paz, who looked at her, and bask in the moment as it unfolded. She loved him. He loved her. Soon—very soon, in fact—they would need to leave the Arboretum and return to their quarters for the next seven days while her elogium took its course and they, with any luck, would begin new life quite literally, as well as figuratively, as parents.

The sound of applause and cheers brought Kes back to the reality of the moment, and she stepped forward, adding a human touch to the Bajoran proceedings by kissing her husband more forwardly than she would normally do in front of the gathered crowd, who cheered all the louder.

“I present to you,” Atara Ram’s voice rose, joyfully over the noise of the crowd. “Li Kes Aren and Li-Paz.”

Li-Paz’s arms held her, and he tipped their foreheads together, his smile wide and joyful.

When she’d met him, she’d only had one name. Now she had three.

People began to greet her, starting with the Captain and Doctor Fitzgerald, and she smiled and accepted their good wishes, and appreciating them.

Still, no small part of her counted down, and not just the parts of her fuelled by her elogium. I want to leave, and start our lives together. Truly, deeply, she wanted nothing more than to be alone with this man, in their quarters, together. She glanced at Li-Paz, who was accepting a hand-shake from Doctor Fitzgerald.

Li-Paz smiled at her, and with no small bit of wonder in his voice, the Bajoran man touched his temple, and said, “me too.”