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Chapter Text

Under a blue sky with only a spattering of clouds, the grounds of Starfleet Academy offered a warm breeze, the sound of birdsong and conversations, and the comings and goings of not just cadets and Starfleet officers, but other visitors—likely also from San Francisco—as they toured the grounds. 

A tall tree, and adjoined gardens, saw little lingering traffic, though groups of cadets running in formation passed by. Beyond, a tall, dark-skinned human Admiral with a Vulcan aide was speaking to a group of officers, discussing their potential assignments, it seemed. 

Walking by the flowers, Cadet Jeta paused, doing her best to both listen to the discussion from afar and to study some of the plants, pulling out a hand-held holo-imager and taking a few photos of the various blooms and grasses and bamboo shoots. 

"Beautiful," she said softly to herself, knowing she’d memorized the names and assignments she’d heard booming in the Admiral’s deep voice—who’d introduced himself as Admiral Bullock. 

She reached down and traced some of the tall grass blades, feeling them slide through her fingertips. Like her father she found joy in gardening, and didn’t mind using the moment to ground herself a little. 

When she turned her attention back to the path, she caught sight of a trio of familiar faces approaching: Captain Aaron Cavit, walking alongside Lieutenant Commander Ro Laren to one side and Lieutenant Veronica Stadi to the other. 

Not one of the three glanced her way as they passed by, and she did her best not to stand out in any way—almost hearing Crewman Chano and Lieutenant Cing’ta’s voices in her head replaying their advice: have a purpose, look like you know what you’re doing, and half the time, that’s most of the work of vanishing. She took another picture of the flowers as the three walked on. 

"Do we know when we’ll have the rest of Voyager’s crew ready?" Stadi was asking.

"Not yet," Cavit was saying. "But I think the plan is still to focus on the Equinox."

"That makes sense," Ro said, but then the three officers were far enough away Jeta couldn’t hear the rest of Ro’s explanation—especially not with the alteration to her ears Kes and Emmett had made. How did humans hear anything with tiny ears like this? 

She knelt by some bamboo and reached out to trace one finger along the length of the plant’s greyish bark, then pulled out her tricorder, scanning the trunk.

 "I can save you some time there, cadet," came a warm, if rather gravely voice. She turned to see an older, grey-haired human approaching. He wasn’t in uniform, instead wearing what appeared to be working clothes. He had gardening tools with him. "They're bamboo."

"I knew that much, but I couldn’t decide if they were arundinarieae or bambuseae," Jeta said, with a soft bashful smile as she closed her tricorder. 

"You’re a botanist," the older man said, pointing a finger at her. "I know the look." 

"I hope to be," Jeta said, sliding her tricorder back into its holster. 

"Well, with an eye like that, I’m sure you’ll make it," Boothby said, nodding to the camera in her other hand. "Keeping a record for later?" 

Jeta nodded. "So I know what to look for better next time."

"Well," the man said. "I’m Boothby, and if you’re going to be a botanist Cadet…?" he paused.

"Hayek," Jeta said. "Jenny Hayek." Then she tilted her head, putting on as delighted a smile as she could manage. She wished her sister were here. Ahn was better at this sort of thing, but they’d needed to split up to cover more ground. "I’ve heard of you—you’re famous." 

Boothby laughed. "Famously grumpy to those who disturb my plants, you mean."

"Well, I would never," Jeta said. 

Boothby smiled. "Then we will get along just fine, Miss Hayek." 

"There you are!" 

Finally. Jeta turned, smiling as her sister approached. Ahn wore the same uniform she did, and looked far more confident and calm striding down the path than Jeta imagined she’d ever managed. 

Boothby turned, looking at Ahn and then back at Jeta. "You have to be sisters," he said.

"My twin sister, Ann," Jeta said. "Ann, this is Boothby." She put extra emphasis on the man’s name, along with restoring the smile she hoped appeared genuine. 

"Has Jenny been talking your ear off about plants, Mister Boothby?" Ahn said, doing a perfect impression of a slightly-embarrassed sister. 

"We’ve had a delightful discussion, actually," Boothby said. "But I take it that means you’re not also a botanist?"

"Guilty," Ahn said, then held out her hand to Jeta. "Here, give me your camera. I know you’re dying to get a photo with him."

Smooth, Jeta thought, but managed to turn and look at Boothby with what she hoped was a winsome enough smile. "Would you mind?"

"Not at all, miss," Boothby said, amiable as ever. 

They stood beside each other in front of the bamboo, and Ahn took the photo. 

"I expect a copy of that, miss," Boothby said.

"Of course," Jeta said. 

"We should go," Ahn said. "Nice to meet you Mister Boothby."

"Likewise."

They left together, and Ahn put her arm through Jeta’s. "Your hero!" she said, loud enough for her voice to carry back to the older man, and Jeta didn’t have to feign the entirety of her embarrassment. They made it around a corner, and Jeta took a breath, waiting until she was sure they were alone to speak.

"I just saw the Captain, Commander Ro, and Commander Stadi," Jeta said. "Wrong rank pips, but other than that…" Jeta waved a hand. She didn’t need to say more. "I managed to frame a few other people while I took pictures of flowers as well."

Ahn nodded. "There was a security detachment training in one of the fields. Lieutenant Rollins was there, as was Ensign Moore."

Jeta flinched in spite of herself. Ensign Tom Moore had died near the end of last year, a victim of the radiation in the Newtara Nebula—or the Deathblossom Nebula, the locals had called it—and she was glad it was her sister that had seen him.

"I was thinking we could try the next location together," Ahn said.

"You can tell this is getting to me," Jeta said.

"I wouldn’t be lying if I said it was getting to me, too," Ahn said. "But I feel like arriving at the Cadet Lounge alone might be more obvious than doing it together."

"Agreed," Jeta said, appreciating Ahn’s candour and sensitivity both. 

They headed off together, and Jeta felt Ahn risk a brief brush with the Chorus of minds they were both attempting to keep at the edge of their thoughts.

We’re heading to the Cadet Lounge. 

I’ll meet you there. Li-Nis’s thoughts came to them. 

Be careful, all of you. This was from Doctor Li-Kes Aren, though Jeta felt the concern of her parents as well, though a further step removed. Not for the first time, she was grateful Lieutenant Commander Stadi and Nurse T’Prena were both so adamant she and her sister trained in their telepathic abilities. Reaching the rest of the Ocampa from this distance was difficult.

But not impossible. 

We will, Jeta replied, taking Ahn’s arm again as they walked, and affecting a sunny, care-free smile as she passed some other cadets, nodding to them. 

The sooner they were done at the Cadet Lounge, the sooner they could get out of here. 

Chapter Text

The Cadet Lounge seemed like the kind of place where there were always at least some people coming and going, and as Li-Nis stepped through the doorway, she noticed a small plaque denoting that while the seating space would be open for all hours, the cafe itself only operated between oh-six-hundred and nineteen-hundred on a daily basis. 

Inside, a few groups of cadets were gathered, and Li-Nis caught sight of Ahn and Jeta—or, rather, "Anne" and "Jenny"—at one of the tables. They waved to her, and she crossed the space to join them, taking the third of the four chairs set up around the table they’d chosen. 

They looked so strange without their Ocampa ears, and Li-Nis also mourned the beautiful halo of Ahn’s dark hair, which she’d cut back into something more regulation. Li-Nis resisted the urge to touch her own ears as she sat—even the lack of her d’ja pagh brushing against her neck as she sat made her feel off. 

Also the enhanced ridges on her nose her mother and Emmett had crafted to make her appear fully Bajoran itched. 

"Good to see you again," Jeta said, and Li-Nis could feel the hum of genuine relief between them, especially with them being so close to each other. "Did you have fun in the medical wing?" This Jeta said with good-natured teasing, like a good friend might do. 

Li-Nis took the play and ran with it. "Well, there weren’t any flowers, but yes."

"She found Boothby," Ahn said, aiming a thumb at her sister. "So basically she’s on cloud nine."

"I’m going to assume that’s a human saying," Li-Nis said.

"We have a lot of them." 

Li-Nis turned, and found herself staring into the eyes of a dead man. 

"Well," Li-Nis said, doing her best not to react to the apparent resurrection. "In fairness, I’m pretty sure if I started talking about pagh you’d have no idea what I was talking about, either…?" She let her voice trail off.

"Cadet Dell," the man said, holding out a hand. "Or Wyatt, if we can be informal. Nice to meet you. May I?" He gestured to the empty seat, and including all three women in his handsome, polite smile. "Because now I want to know what a pagh is."

"Of course." Li-Nis took his hand and shook. "Cadet Loris Reah." 

"If I remember right, that means it’s Cadet Loris, right?" Dell sat. 

"That’s right, though I don’t mind Reah, Wyatt. This is Jenny and Anne Hayek." This isn’t really Dell. Li-Nis hadn’t known him Crewman Wyatt Dell particularly well, only in passing here and there, and he wasn’t the first person she’d recognized from Voyager, nor was he the first to have the wrong rank. Many of the crew she’d grown up with on Voyager were here, but at least half of them seemed to be Cadets, which made no sense. 

Not that any of this does.

"Nice to meet you. So," Dell said. "Pagh?" He lifted the mug he was carrying to his lips and sipped, then put it down, giving it an odd look Li-Nis couldn’t quite decipher.

"It’s the Bajoran word for the life force inherent to all sentient beings," Li-Nis said. "Gifted to all from the celestial temple for the duration of our lives, and then returned to it when we pass." 

"Oh, that’s fascinating," Dell said, leaning forward. "So—can I ask—as a Bajoran, then, do you practice the faith alongside…" He eyed her, tilting his head to one side, then the other. "I’m going to guess medicine, not one of the other sciences."

She laughed. "Good guess. Yes. I’m a doctor-in-training, and yes, I practice."

"Faith is hard for me to grasp." He glanced at Ahn and Jeta. "Are you finding it the same?" 

"Yes," Ahn said, with a confidence Li-Nis couldn’t help but think of as a stellar example of Ahn’s usual ability to draw out conversation from others. 

Jeta, for her part, waved one hand side to side. "A little."

"Oh," Dell said. "Do that again?"

Jeta raised one eyebrow, but waved her hand.

Dell mimicked it. "Like this?"

She nodded. 

Li-Nis did her best not to react to the odd interaction. 

Dell lowered his hand, looking sheepish. "Sorry. Still… getting the hang of it." 

"Aren’t we all?" Ahn said, and Dell opened his mouth to reply but was cut off when—across the lounge—a Cadet cried out, and they all turned.

She was a tall, Vulcan woman—after a beat, Li-Nis recognized Ensign T’Pir, though wearing a cadet uniform—and her cry was wholly out of character for a Vulcan, as she was openly expressing what appeared to Li-Nis to be pain. As Li-Nis watched, the Vulcan woman’s skin shivered and twitched, roiling in an almost unstable way, and T’Pir stumbled, even as two other cadets from her table rose—Savel and Vesaya, Li-Nis noted—and then gathered her, one arm each, walking her out of the Cadet Lounge as the brief attack of… whatever it was… apparently subsided.

A beat of silence followed, and then conversations began at the tables again.

Li-Nis turned to look at "Dell", whose eyes were aimed at the entrance where T’Pir had been walked out by the other two. He honestly looked scared. 

"Are you all right?" she said softly. 

He managed a nod, seemed to take another moment to himself, and then his features, handsome enough, if smooth in that human way of having no spots, no ridges, nor anything else particularly striking about them, restored themselves to that genial tone he’d had before.

"I’ve never had a reversion," he said softly, lowering his voice as though this was a discussion they weren’t meant to be having. "Have you?"

"Not yet," Ahn said, leaning forward slightly. 

"I think that’s her first," Dell said, looking back at the door again. "And it didn’t look too bad, but… we don’t want to go through all this just to end up washing out, right?" 

"Agreed," Jeta said, with a wan smile. 

Dell ran a hand through his short brown hair, then sighed. "I mean… hair." He pointed at his own head. "Not to mention clothes." He chuckled, tugging at his cadet uniform, then shook his head again. "Sorry. Let’s get back to it. Think human, be human." 

He squared his shoulders, glancing at Li-Nis. "Or Bajoran."

She smiled at him, because she couldn’t have come up with another reply on the fly. They were definitely learning a lot here, she just wasn’t sure what she was learning. Time enough for that later, she decided. 

"So you’re in… engineering?" Li-Nis said, making it sound like a guess.

"I am," Dell said, smiling again. He picked up his mug, eyed it like it was something strange, then took another swallow, giving them another oddly bashful smile when he put it down again. "Systems engineering with a diagnostic specialty." He leaned forward, and now his expression seemed truly genuine. "I have to say, I love it."

"I feel the same way about medicine," Li-Nis said.

"And if you ask, I’m sure Jenny will tell you she’s just as excited about flowers," Ahn said.

Jeta rolled her eyes, but nodded and lifted one shoulder. 

"There’s a whole galaxy to explore," Dell said. "And that’s why we’re here. Starfleet." He lifted his chin, but Li-Nis couldn’t quite find sincerity in the sentiment he was making, even if it would have been correct had the real Wyatt Dell said it. He took a breath, and after a quick hesitation, said, "Do you have a partner for the dance?" 

"No." Li-Nis shook her head. She had no idea what dance he was talking about, but it didn’t matter. 

"Well," Dell said, taking a deep breath. "May I ask you to the dance?"

"You can ask," Li-Nis said, forcing a smile into place. "But I’m not sure if I’m going." 

"How about we say if you do, we can try dancing together?" Dell said, and in truth, the effect of the man’s hesitant hope was rather charming. 

Or it would be, were it really Wyatt Dell in front of her.

"I think I can agree to that much," Li-Nis said. 

Jeta’s PADD chimed, and the four of them turned to look at it. 

"Sorry, that’s us," Jeta said, picking it up and aiming the comment at Dell. "Back to it."

Dell nodded. "I should finish this," he nodded at the mug, though he didn’t look enthusiastic about it. "Hopefully I’ll see you at the dance."

Li-Nis let a friendly smile and a nod stand in for an actual response, and then she, Ahn, and Jeta stepped away, left the Cadet Lounge—she glanced up and down the hallway, but didn’t see T’Pir or the other two Vulcans anywhere—and then made their way out of the building. 

"Which way?" Ahn said.

Jeta nodded to the gentle slope downward from where they were. "There are trees that way. Enough for cover."

"Of course you picked trees," Ahn said. 

"Still with us?" Li-Nis said, just loud enough she hoped for the person the question was intended for to hear. 

A gentle pressure on her shoulder provided the answer she was hoping for. 

She nodded at Ahn and Jeta, and they headed down off the path, doing their best to look like three Cadets just heading off on their own. Once they were within the trees, and as out of view as Li-Nis imagined they’d ever be, she exhaled. 

"Okay, let’s go."

Beside them, the shimmering effect of the personal cloak of Reskat dropped, revealing the man pressing one hand to the centre of his sternum, where the implant lay beneath the skin for him to activate. The Ramuran—like the three of them—had also been altered, in his case to appear human, like Ahn and Jeta, but it was the look in his eyes that Li-Nis noticed more than the lack of his almost Ocampa-like ear structures.

"I’m guessing you had more luck than we did," Li-Nis said.

Reskat nodded. "I managed to get into the Officer’s areas, and…" He shook his head. "Let’s get out of here first."

Li-Nis nodded, and Ahn tapped her combadge. "We’re ready," she said. "All four of us."

A moment later, and the wash of the transporter had taken them all, and they were standing in the rear of the Delta Flyer, on the four-person transporter pad. Doctor Li-Kes Aren regarded them from the controls. And Li-Nis blinked at her mother, happy to be back—even if the dim lighting in the rear area of the Flyer made it clear they weren’t out of the woods yet. 

"Welcome back," Kes said, her voice softened by relief. "Any luck?"

"Definitely," Reskat said. 

They headed into the front of the Flyer, though Li-Nis found herself standing with Jeta and Kes at the rear of the sleek bridge. Lieutenant Lan had the Ops station beside Lieutenant Commander Stadi—the real Lieutenant Commander Stadi—and both turned in their chairs to glance back at them. Ahn had taken the science station, and Reskat went to stand beside Lieutenant Rollins, who had the tactical station.

Li-Nis felt Stadi’s telepathic awareness brush her own, feeling out her state of mind, and Stadi’s expression shifted even further to one of concern.

"Let’s get back to Voyager," Stadi said. "We can compare notes once we’re away from that thing. Make sure we keep our power profile as small as we can, Sahreen."

"On it," Lan said.

"No sign we’ve been spotted," Rollins said. "Looks like you were right about the Flyer, Sahreen."

"She might not be the Cochrane," Lan said. "But her power systems are capable of extreme fine tuning—including running very quiet."

Through the front windshields of the Flyer, Li-Nis watched as the large, almost-crystal-like domed enclosure—with its replica of a significant portion of San Francisco inside—tilted away from the main view, revealing the top-like structure and open space around it. The field of asteroidal fragments and ice the Delta Flyer had been tucked alongside passed by the view as well, adding to Li-Nis’s awareness of the size of the structure beyond.

She’d never been to Earth. But for a while, inside that massive environment, it had felt very much like being on a planet. 

"Setting in a course back to Voyager," Stadi said. "Give me just enough power for one third impulse."

"Raising power levels," Lan said.

"Still no sign we’ve been noticed," Rollins said. 

*

Captain Aaron Cavit couldn’t help but think of what his husband, ship’s counsellor and also one of two officers devoted to training new crewmen, had told him about the four crewmen-to-be standing two to either side of the display monitor in the Briefing Room. Reskat’s haunted and hunted look had mostly vanished, though he certainly didn’t look comfortable to be in front of the senior officers, and had a habit of deferring to Li-Nis, Ahn, and Jeta that Cavit believed came from what Jeff referred to as Reskat’s tendency to trust telepaths—especially the Ocampa—because they’d been the major component of rescuing him. 

Also, Reskat looked just looked odd to Cavit as a human. 

Li-Nis, for her part, had a professional poise in place, but he could see her nerves. She was the youngest of the Ocampa present—which was a fine line to draw considering the growth rate of Ocampa—but in her disguise as a full-blooded Bajoran, the still somewhat youthful edge to her features made her seem younger still. 

Ahn and Jeta were their usual bookends—Ahn’s barely restrained energy and a visible desire to get started beside Jeta’s quiet patience—but again, in their "human" disguises, not to mention their having cut their hair down to a far more sedate style, they just seemed… what?

Fragile?

He knew better than that. He’d seen what Ocampa could do multiple times over.

The door to the Ready Room opened, and Seven of Nine and Lieutenant Zandra Taitt arrived together, rounding out the full senior staff—minus Emmett—and making the room a bit more crowded than it usually was. Every chair was taken. 

"Sorry we’re a bit late," Taitt said. "It took some doing to get the passive scans downloaded and analyzed."

"It’s fine," Cavit said, nodding to them both. Then he turned to the four people who’d spent time in the massive structure. "Go ahead." He tried to take his eyes off the images scrolling on the viewscreen between them of the grounds of Starfleet Academy.

It looked so real. 

Again Reskat glanced at Li-Nis, who nodded and took the lead. "From what we saw, it’s as perfect reconstruction of a great deal of San Francisco as we could measure without being too obvious. The Federation Council is present. I managed to visit the Starfleet Medical complex. Jeta explored the grounds, Ahn covered some of the civilian areas as well as the lecture halls, and we all explored the academy somewhat." She took a breath, then raised her gaze in a very direct state. "Commander Ro and Lieutenant Rollins were right about sending us being the correct option given what Lieutenant Cing’ta managed to pick up on his sensor feeds. As far as we can tell, the entire crew of Voyager is already present on the station—but not any of the Ocampa. In fact, we saw most of you." 

"Us," Cavit said, feeling a slick, oily sensation in his stomach. When Cing’ta had first picked up what had appeared to be Federation signals, there’d been much joy. Finding the strange hemispherical environment that was clearly not Federation had been something of a let-down, and then seeing some familiar faces in the feeds he’d managed to tap into had been outright disturbing. "As in… us." He gestured around the table, wanting to be clear. 

"That’s right," Jeta said. "Yourself, Commander Ro, and Commander Stadi passed by me while I was in the main garden area. Although—and this was a recurring discrepancy—your ranks were incorrect. You were a Lieutenant Commander." Jeta nodded to Ro, and then to Stadi. "You were a Lieutenant."

"Out of date information, maybe," Rollins said. 

"The other versions of you were discussing what struck me as a plan of some kind," Jeta said. Her dark eyes grew troubled. "Lieutenant Stadi wanted to know if the other two had heard when 'the rest of Voyager’s crew would be ready.' And the other Captain didn’t know, but noted 'the plan was still to focus on the Equinox,' which the other Ro believed made sense."

"None of that sounds good," Lieutenant Alexander Honigsberg said dryly. He rubbed his goatee, and glanced at the rest of the table. "I mean, can anyone think of a good reason for people to pretend to be us?"

"Infiltration and espionage," Rollins said.

"I said a good reason, Scott," Honigsberg said.

"I agree with Scott; the ranks point to their information being out of date," Ro said.

"It wasn’t just you two," Li-Nis said. "When we were in the Cadet Lounge, we saw other members of Voyager’s crew, but they were in cadet uniforms—Ensign T’Pir, and… Crewman Dell." 

"Wyatt’s dead," Honigsberg said, frowning. 

"I also saw Ensign Moore, and other crew we’ve lost," Ahn said. "Some at their current, correct rank, some as cadets."

"Definitely out of date," Rollins said, nodding at Ro. 

"What about you, Reskat?" Cavit said. "Any sign your personal cloak was detected?"

"No, Captain," Reskat shook his head. "In general, I found the technology present to be about the same as what you’ve got here on Voyager—or, actually, less complex, though not by much."

"That’d be about right," Honigsberg said. "Voyager was our top-of-the-line model when she launched, and they don’t often retrofit the academy, though they’d keep security up to date in more secure areas." 

"Well," Reskat said. "I was able to slip into the Commandant’s office—she wasn’t there, but from what I could see and access without tripping any notice, as far as I could tell there are three major divisions of training running currently. The Voyager Project, the Equinox Project, and the Starfleet Project." He took a breath. "I don’t have the Ocampa photographic memory, but from a glance, all the names under the Voyager Project were her current crew—including those you brought on board from the Hera—and the Equinox crew listing seemed correct to what I saw once I looked it up on the Delta Flyer." Reskat paused. "The list of names weren’t in any discernible order—not alphabetical, I mean, or by service number—but another notation that I didn’t understand, though in both cases the senior officers were closer to the top of the list than others."

"And the Starfleet list?" Cavit said.

"Those names weren’t familiar to me, and the notations seemed to list them as less complete," Reskat said. "Though I made a mental note of some of the first names: Admiral Bullock, Lieutenant Commander La Forge, Crewman Reese—"

"What?" Honigsberg leaned forward. "Patrick Reese?"

Reskat blinked, looking worried, like he’d said something wrong. "That’s right." 

Cavit looked at Honigsberg. He vaguely recalled the name as someone Hongisberg had mentioned in passing once or twice. "A friend of yours?"

Hongisberg nodded. 

"Geordi La Forge served with Taitt, Russell, and myself on the Enterprise D together," Ro said, glancing at Taitt, who offered a small nod. 

"He was the chief engineer," Taitt said. 

"And Admiral Bullock headed the Intrepid program," Stadi said. "He’s the one that suggested me to Captain Janeway after Intrepid’s shakedown." 

"There was also a Captain. Sanders, I believe." Reskat lifted one hand. "I’m afraid I didn’t get more than that."

"Eric Sanders. Captain of the Malinche," Fitzgerald said, and Cavit aimed a quick glance his way, wondering if Jeff would mention the man was his ex, but Jeff seemed to be done sharing. 

"It’s hard not to look at this and not think they’re planning on replacing Starfleet officers and crewmen," Rollins said. 

"Not just officers or crewmen," Ahn said, tapping the a command into the display monitor and bringing up a picture of her sister standing with—

"Oh my God," Taitt said, with a soft laugh that held no real humour. "Is that Boothby?" 

"That’s what he said his name was, yes," Jeta said, glancing at her. "You know him, too? I’d read enough about the Academy to know I needed to be impressed, but much else."

"Anyone who accidentally stepped on a flower knows him," Rollins said, with a slight sourness to his tone. "He made me replant two whole beds of pansies because I stepped on one little bud when I was running late to a lecture." 

Cavit eyed his security officer, fighting off a smile, and Rollins seemed to realize he had the attention of everyone in the room—and more than a little of their amusement. He waved a hand. "I mean, that’s not really him, obviously, but…"

"He used to give me tulips," Taitt said. "If it wasn’t for him giving me advice on when to take a break, I don’t think I would have made it through my senior thesis."

"He gave Dolay a potted torret tree his first year in the Academy," Lan said. "Had it imported from Trill. Gave it to him to raise it in his quarters until it was time to plant it in his senior year as an exercise in 'considering his roots.’ Dolay actually managed to pick some fruit off it when he came back to Earth a few years later."

"The man’s a treasure," Stadi said, spreading her hands open. 

"Fine," Rollins said, shaking his head. "Everyone else loved Boothby, and Boothby loved everyone else."

"I don’t think I met him," Ro said. 

Rollins gave her a grateful look. 

"What is this man’s purpose?" Seven of Nine said. 

"A groundskeeper," Cavit said. 

Seven of Nine blinked at him. 

"And a kind of unofficial counsellor, in a way," Cavit said. 

Seven of Nine took a breath, and used the table controls to change the display on the Briefing Room monitor to that of the large domed facility itself. "Our efforts to learn more about the station have provided a few more details. Lieutenant Taitt and I used the tricorder data, holo-images and the Delta Flyter’s scans to extrapolate a cross-section of the interior." Seven faced the group as a whole. "I believe they used a combination of holographic projection and particle synthesis."

"How are they keeping it all lit?" Cavit said. 

"There are thirteen thermionic generators beneath the city," Seven said.

"We can't identify the energy signatures," Taitt added. "But they’re not Starfleet."

"Neither is the armament," Rollins said. "Particle cannons of a configuration I’ve not seen before alongside phaser arrays and banks, and multiple torpedo launchers." He blew out a breath. "They are perfectly capable of defending themselves." 

"It’s hard not to think of false enemy towns built for practice," Cavit said, thinking of more than one episode in Earth’s history of the practice. "Did any of you manage to gather any information on who these people might be?" 

"There was one thing," Li-Nis said. "When we were speaking with the false Crewman Dell, the false T’Pir had some sort of medical attack—it looked to me like some sort of systemic organic rejection, though it was over quickly—and she was led away."

"I took the opportunity to take the cup she’d been drinking from," Reskat said. "I gave it to Doctor Hall, and he and Nurse T’Prena are analyzing it now." 

"The false Dell called it 'a reversion,'" Li-Nis said. "Which to me sounds like something deeper than a cosmetic adjustment—perhaps these aliens are using something analogous to the Stanford Morehouse Epigenetic Project metamorphic celerity process."

"Sorry, the what?" Honigsberg said.

"A jury-rigged genetic modification," Fitzgerald said, smiling at the engineer. "Used for anthropological or pre-First Contact duck-blind missions when a surface-level appearance might not be good enough—doesn’t go much further than skin-deep, but it’s enough to fool certain levels of technology." 

"Okay," Honigsberg said. "Never want to try that."

"Hopefully Emmett and T’Prena can give us a clue to who we’re facing," Cavit said. He blew out a breath, turning back to the four cadets. "You went above and beyond there, and we appreciate it." 

"Did you pick anything up telepathically?" Stadi said, and Cavit glanced back to the three Ocampa, realizing none of them had mentioned telepathic impressions only now Stadi had brought it up.

"No," Li-Nis said, glancing at the other two. She was only half-Ocampa—though Cavit knew from Jeff Ocampa DNA tended to take the lead in many ways—but Ahn and Jeta were the daughters of Cir and Eru, entirely Ocampa. 

"Presence," Jeta said. "But not thought, or at least…" She bit her bottom lip for a moment. "I think, if I had more time, that I could read them—but with Crewman Dell, for example, it never felt like being with a human." 

"It was the same with the Vulcans I saw," Jeta said. "Presence, but not the presence I’m used to from a telepathic species, and certainly not my experience with Vulcans." She shook her head. "But, for lack of a better way of putting it, Commander, it felt like they were… getting there? Some more than others."

"You mean becoming telepathic?" Stadi said, her eyebrows rising.

"Perhaps?" Ahn didn’t sound entirely confident, but didn’t seem to want to dismiss it, either.

"That’s more than the Stanford Morehouse project could do," Fitzgerald said. 

Cavit nodded. This was more than a mask, then. 

"What’s our next move?" Taitt said. "If this really is a training ground for some sort of invasion of the Federation, we’re a long way off, and even if they think they can do something from here—we can’t."

"I have one option," Ro said, and everyone—Cavit included—turned her way.

At the look in her eyes, he realized he wasn’t going to like this option one bit. 

"Tell me," he said. 

Chapter Text

"These cells may appear to be human," Emmett said, gesturing the enhanced data on the viewscreen in the medical office. "But they’re not."

"I’ve learned a little being married to a doctor, Emmett," Cavit said, eyeing the cells, many times magnified, but turning back to the holographic doctor with spread hands. "But you’re going to have to be more specific with what I’m seeing here." 

"Unfortunately, I can’t." Emmett shook his head. "The cellular residue Cadet Reskat retrieved was enough for me to scan—and it did appear to match Crewman Dell’s DNA on file, at first—but when exposed to a microcellular analysis, I could determine it was not human because the cells were a little too spry."

"Spry?" Cavit said, shaking his head.

"They’re still showing signs of life," Emmett said. "Minor, vestigial life, but when a human being—when most humanoids—shed genetic material, it’s inert." Emmett turned to the viewscreen. "I’ve ruled out cloning—there’s no replicative fade—and there appears to be nothing inherently artificial."

"Sorry?"

"It’s not a constructed creature," Emmett said. "In other words, the Wyatt Dell our people interacted with wasn’t made, he was altered, much like we altered Ahn and Jeta to appear human on the surface." Emmett tapped the screen and a series of tests appeared that meant nothing to Cavit. "But to say what was done to this Mr. Dell is more complex would be understating. I believe this is the most extremely sophisticated genetic alternation ever encountered in Federation history. If I had a larger sample, a cytokinetic injection might reverse the process, but making the attempt on these trace isolated cells simply ruptured the cells before they could return to their original state." 

Cavit regarded the image on the wall, clenching his jaw. It scans like Wyatt Dell’s DNA. The man had died during the Hirogen attack on Voyager. That someone was impersonating him—down to his DNA—offended Cavit on a level he was having trouble putting into words. 

"Well," Cavit said. "If all goes to plan, we’ll give you something more to work with."

"Captain?" Emmett said.

*

The door to the cadet quarters opened, and the green-skinned man who appeared on the other side of the door smiled a warm, welcoming smile at the two women standing there.

"Hi," the cadet-uniform wearing version of Chano said. 

"Hi," Ahn said. "I’m Anne, this is Jenny, and we are wondering if we could talk to you for a second about the first age of the Orionic Empire?" Ahn bit her bottom lip. "Because we’re way, way behind on a paper, and I don’t think my Xenoanthropology professor is going to cut us any slack."

He laughed. "And here I was hoping this was an invitation to the dance."

"It can be that, too," Ahn said, lifting one eyebrow. "Maybe we can call it payment for some of your time?" She held up her PADD. "I swear it’ll only take maybe twenty minutes?"

"You’re kind of relentless, aren’t you?" he said.

"You have no idea," Jeta said. 

He stepped back, and they stepped past him and into the room. 

Jeta hit him with the hypospray the moment the door was closed. 

*

"I hate this," Reskat said, while Chano tugged on the cadet jacket over his undershirt. They were in the rear of the Delta Flyer together, and he was already in "uniform" and doing his best not to over-react to the danger Chano was about to put himself into. 

This wasn’t a quick recon, and Chano wouldn’t have a cloak like Reskat himself did. 

"I’ve trained for this in just about every way there is," Chano said, finishing the zip and reached out and taking his hand for a quick squeeze. "But I’ll admit it’s the first time I’ve ever tried to impersonate someone pretending to be me." He cracked a smile. "But you have to admit, I’m perfect for the job."

"Don’t be charming when I’m worried," Reskat said, narrowing his eyes. "It’s annoying." 

"Is it?" Chano’s lips curled up in a small smile.

"No." Reskat sighed. 

They headed for the four-person transporter pad together, and when they arrived Lieutenant Sahreen Lan was waiting. The Trill woman nodded to them both. "We just got the tight beam burst from Jeta, and I’ve got a lock. You two ready?" 

"We are," Chano said, stepping into position. Reskat moved to stand beside him, then reached up and put his hand over the centre of his chest, nodding once. He couldn’t be beamed while he was under his personal cloak, but he’d activate it the moment they were on site. 

"Energizing," Lan said, and a wash of blue and silver light took them both. 

Reskat pressed on his sternum the moment the small room came into view, and felt the warmth of the cloak wrapping around himself. His vision blurred slightly at the edges, and sound became somewhat muffled, but the overall effect was of comfort. 

Ahn stood there, too, which definitely helped. Jeta, for her part, was sitting at the small desk and accessing the terminal there. 

"Welcome to Terrasphere Eight," Jeta said. 

"Terrasphere Eight?" Chano said, moving to join her at the desk.

"That’s what the other Chano’s personal logs call it," Jeta said. 

"You hacked his logs?" Chano said, and Reskat heard how impressed he was in his tone.

"Basic password, nothing very involved," Jeta said, waving one hand. "But there’s a lot here for you to work with—he’s practicing being you. He definitely doesn’t like the side effects of his pheromone suppressant." 

Chano leaned over her shoulder. "Muscle aches. Well. I know what that’s like."

"Outdated again," Reskat said, knowing his voice sounded oddly echoey and muffled to the others, but they all nodded. Since Reskat himself had come aboard Voyager, Chano had a much more effective pheromonal suppressant—and one that didn’t cause him such discomfort.

"I guess I’ll get used to the old treatment for a while," Chano said. He took a breath. "Okay, you three head to the dance. I’ll get settled in here."

Reskat opened his mouth.

"All three of you," Chano said, as though sensing what Reskat had been about to say. "Ahn and Jeta don’t have counterparts here, so I need your eyes on them, Res. At least until the Flyer is back within range to beam them back after dropping the other me off." 

"Besides," Ahn said, with a wry smile that struck Reskat as completely out of place given their mission. "I have a date. It’s only proper for you to be my chaperone." 

Reskat hoped his sigh didn’t penetrate the sonic dampening effect in his personal cloak.

*

Cavit, Ro, and Rollins stood back while Emmett and T’Prena scanned the prone form of what appeared to be Crewman Chano, albeit a Chano who’d arrived in a cadet uniform, though now he’d been stripped so Honigsberg and Taitt could go over every inch of his uniform, combadge, and even the PADD he’d been carrying in his cargo pants pocket. He lay beneath a sheet on the biobed. 

"Once again, the tricorder identifies this as Mister Chano," Emmett said. "Even the DNA scan is fooled."

"Are we sure the duplicate will stay unconscious?" Rollins said. "We know he’s not Orion, so how do we know the axonol will keep him under?"

Cavit couldn’t fault the man for his cautiousness. 

"That’s the beauty of whatever has been done to this man," Emmett said. "The process is such a perfect recreation of Orion DNA that the being is—functionally—Orion. Everything is affecting him as it would an Orion. In fact," Emmett leaned over, a trace of wonder in his voice. "I’m even detecting the vestigial pheromonal production we saw under his previous treatment…" The hologram shook his head. "Fascinating." 

"You said you could undo the genetic transformation," Cavit said, before Emmett decided to go off waxing poetic about the alien genetic obfuscation and alteration techniques, even if they were impressive. 

"I can," Emmett said, frowning and turning to look at Cavit. "You don’t want to wake him? Ask questions?"

"No," Cavit said. "I want the truth. If this is an invasion, I want to know who’s invading. We have no way to warn Starfleet, no way to get the word out, and no way to let anyone know these people aren’t us. If we can undo what they’ve done to pretend to be us? I need to know it works." 

Emmett nodded slowly. "Understood. A cytokinentic infusion should undo the entirety of the genetic modification. Nurse?" 

T’Prena moved off, loaded a hypospray, and handed it to him. 

Cavit nodded to Ro and Rollins, and both drew their phasers. 

Emmett frowned at them.

"You said the drugs were keeping him under because he’s Orion," Rollins said. "We don’t know if that’s true of whoever he really is." 

"I see," Emmett said, and Cavit could tell the hologram didn’t like being on the logical end of that particular conclusion, but he leaned forward and pressed the hypo into the neck of their false Crewman Chano. 

The effect was near-immediate. A wash of thicker, deeper colour washed through "Chano"’s green skin, turning it a the purple-blue of a bruise and then his body twisted, flexed, and pulsated, growing in almost every dimension. The man’s forehead broadened, his chest widened, and the sheet fell away as the man’s torso twisted and a third leg all but burst from the central mass of his body even as that body grew, and grew—nearly three metres long now—and then, with a final shuddering ripple that ran from head to two, the rippling, shifting body seemed to flex once and then revert completely to the tripodal form of an Undine.

A moment later, it gasped, cruciform pupil eyes opening, and barely a beat later it was in motion, gathering its three legs beneath itself, likely to pounce or leap or attack—Cavit saw it focus on him—and then twin beams of phaser-fire lashed out across the space.

It barely gave the Undine much pause, but the alien did blink heavily and shake its head, and Cavit heard the chirps of Ro and Rollins using that momentary delay in its reactions to adjust their phasers. 

The Undine growled in that internal, rumbling way they had and shifted, spreading both hands out with its thick, talon-like claws Cavit knew full well could dissolve their flesh if they so much as scraped them. 

T’Prena had withdrawn, Emmett had remained between the bio-bed and his nurse.

Then another volley of phaser fire struck. This one enough to knock it unconscious again. 

"Fuck," Rollins said. 

"All right," Cavit said, definitely on the same page as Rollins. "First we get it to the Brig."

"Last time they barely showed up on scanners," Ro said. "I’m guessing the transporter room will need some help getting a lock."

"Have Seven and Alex get right on that," Cavit said, nodding to Rollins, who nodded back and tapped his combadge. 

He and Ro stepped to the side, joining Emmett and T’Prena. "Once it’s tucked away, call the Senior Staff to the Briefing Room," Cavit said. "Get word to the Away Team. I know it’s a risk to send a signal, but…" He gestured to the prone alien. "They need to know."

"Agreed," she said.

"I’ll get to work tissue-matching Vulcan crew with Ahn, Jeta, and the rest of our second generation of Ocampa. Better safe than sorry," Emmett said, and Cavit realized with a start what the hologram meant. 

The last time the Ocampa had come face-to-face with what the Borg had called Species 8472, it had sparked some out-of-control hyper-evolution in them, and they’d lost control of their telepathic and psychokinetic abilities and nearly destroyed the ship in the process. They’d managed to stop it before it was too late thanks to information passed to them by alternate future versions of Kes and Abol, but those plans hadn’t included anything about the Ocampa children who had—at the time—not existed yet. 

"Right," Cavit said. "Do that, too. Because when this one wakes up, we’re going to need to question it, and the only way we have to do that is the Chorus." Speaking of. "Should we pull Ahn and Jeta back?" He trusted Ro’s take on the subject, but he also knew they needed more intelligence. Ro’s plan to get Chano in place couldn’t have been better timed, but he didn’t like risking Ahn and Jeta—or Reskat, for that matter—now they knew what they were up against. They were smart, yes, and they’d been training with Jeff and Cing’ta, but this was the Undine. 

"None of the Ocampa have shown any sign of sensing any Undine," Ro said. "Last time they were aware of them before we were."

"Last time they hadn’t altered their entire genetic structure," Emmett said. 

"Doctor Hall is correct," T’Prena said. "Only after the reversion did I have any telepathic sense of the Undine. Prior, he was Orion—and nontelepathic."

"That lines up with what Ahn and Jeta and Li-Nis said before," Ro said. "That they felt some level of telepathic ability forming in the so-called Vulcans they saw on the station. If the Undine are learning how to pretend to be us, would that include the Vulcans among them learning how to be telepaths the same way your species does things?" 

"A logical assumption," T’Prena said.

"All right. Let’s get moving," Cavit said. They all broke, him heading for the door with Ro, T’Prena and Emmett heading for the medlab, and behind him, Rollins speaking with the Transporter Room, Astrometrics, Main Engineering, and calling for a security team. 

The Undine. The last time they’d interacted, the Chorus had managed to work up a detente with the powerful species from fluidic space after convincing the Undine that humanity—and all the rest of the species of the Federation, not to mention the species of the Delta Quadrant—weren’t all the same as the Borg. The Undine’s final message, Daggin and the others had said, had been clear: stay away from us, and we’ll stay away from you.

Clearly something had changed.

Why are you back?

"Bridge," Cavit said, stepping into the turbolift with Ro.

*

Lieutenant Scott Rollins stepped into the Brig and blinked when he saw Crewman Savel and Crewman Kat Hughes weren’t alone. Across from the cell where the Undine remained unconscious and behind the forcefield stood Seven of Nine.

"Seven?" Rollins said.

"Lieutenant." Seven of Nine turned to glance at him. She was in her cadet blues, and her usual imperious comportment wasn’t there. Her blue eyes seemed wider than usual, her jaw less set, just overall looking… what? 

Rattled. She looks rattled. 

"Something I can do for you?" he said.

"Species 8472 does not appear on conventional scanners. It is imperative it remain monitored." Seven turned back to the unconscious alien. "Each time Species 8472 boarded a Borg vessel, they went directly to the central power matrix and disabled it. It will attempt to do so."

"It’s in a cell, Seven," Rollins said. 

"Species 8472 is devious and highly intelligent," Seven said. "It will seek the most efficient means of destroying us."

Okay. Rollins took a breath. "Well, right now it can’t do that."

"You were fortunate the species was still weakened in a transitional genetic state. Phasers only harmed it because its genetic integrity had not completely reformed. They will not work again."

"That’s good to know," Hughes said. 

"What are you suggesting?" Rollins said. 

"Species 8472 is highly resistant to all technology. All but one. Borg nanoprobes." Seven faced him. "I will modify pulse compression phaser rifles to fire nanoprobe discharges." 

"That killed Species 8472 when we used torpedoes," Rollins said.

"Correct."

"Can we do something a little less lethal?" Rollins said, crossing his arms, and trying not to notice how Hughes and Savel seemed to be having a whole conversation with each other via glances. Even the large, muscular Vulcan was giving off 'Think they’d notice if we left?' vibes.  

"Lieutenant?" Seven of Nine frowned at him, like he’d just suggested they cuddle a rattlesnake. 

"There are literally thousands of Undine over on that station, Seven," Rollins said. "Killing one wouldn’t go over well with the rest." 

"You seek a diplomatic solution," Seven said, and her voice telegraphed incredulousness. "The species is highly adaptive, as evidenced by the station and their deception. It's been over a year since our first encounter. They may have developed a defence against nanoprobes. Any effort to limit their lethality may render them entirely ineffective."

Rollins took a second with that. "Get started with a rifle—start with the dose of nanoprobes we used last time, but if you can work in a lower setting, please do. Tag in Sina if you need her. I’ll go over all your concerns with the Captain at the briefing, make sure he understands you think the nanoprobes might not be as effective as they were." 

A line appeared between Seven of Nine’s eyebrows. "You concede the point." She sounded surprised.

"Seven," Rollins said. "I’m very rarely the smartest person in the room. I know when to listen to people who know more than me."

Seven of Nine regarded him for a moment, then dipped her chin once.

"Savel, Kat, eyes-on at all times. The moment it wakes up, I want to know." 

"Understood," Savel said.

Rollins left them there, Seven of Nine still regarding the cell for a moment before she reached up to tap her combadge, reaching out to Crewman Sina, their specialist in tactical engineering.

*

"The Undine," Stadi said, leaning forward in her chair. "Not a favourite." 

"No kidding," Taitt said. 

"Any word from the Flyer?" Fitzgerald said. "I really don’t like having Ahn and Jeta over there—if they have a telepathic reaction to the Undine…" 

Stadi shivered. She remembered how powerful the telepathic impact had been on her own mind, let alone how it had sent the Ocampa abilities off the rails. She understood the counsellor’s worry. 

Lan shook her head. "Nothing. Sam won’t break communication silence if he doesn’t have to."

"Emmett’s already working on a treatment for them," Kes said, and while Stadi sensed well enough how little that did to counter Fitzgerald’s nerves, the counsellor nodded once. 

How are you doing? Stadi sent to the Ocampa woman, who was here in Emmett’s stead.

I’m all right. Kes’s answer came with a solid reserve of will behind it. It bothers me I couldn’t sense the Undine at all—though now I can feel the one in the Brig.

Stadi felt the same way. 

"This is right out of the playbook of any number of moments in history," Cavit said. "False environments to train individuals to infiltrate. The only assumption we can come to is the Undine plan to invade the Alpha Quadrant."

"Or already have," Rollins said. 

"Have we figured out where the data they’re using came from?" Ro said.

"Two theories, no proof of either," Taitt said. "Seven and I went over every log from when we were still with the Argala all the way through to when the Chorus managed to convince the Undine to leave—"

"Every log?" Honigsberg said.

"Seven’s highly motivated," Taitt said carefully, and Stadi caught the edge of some of what Taitt wasn’t saying.

"They’re one of the only things to truly frighten her," Stadi said. "The Undine came close to wiping out the Borg. Even now she’s an individual… that likely left a mark." 

Silence fell at her pronouncement, and Stadi couldn’t help but feel like Seven of Nine had the right idea when it came to the Undine. The word powerful didn’t do them justice. They’d nearly melted Rollins, for one thing, and if they hadn’t had the Chorus and Seven’s nanoprobes in their back pocket? 

Well.

"You said you had two theories?" Cavit said, gently putting them back on track. 

"To break it down to the absolute basics, one theory is they got data from the Borg, the other is they got it from us," Taitt said. "I lean to the latter given how much the occupants of that recreation seem to be centred on us, Equinox, and people the Voyager crew know specifically. As for their method…" Taitt sighed, and pressed the controls on the tabletop, activating the wall screen.

On the viewer, Voyager appeared in fluidic space, and then a sensor overlay highlighted patterns in the fluid that made up the baseline of the other dimension. Those patterns washed by Voyager, much like waves, except after each wave brushed the ship, it looked like counter-waves were rippling off, but not fading in intensity the way a wave did on the ocean. And were there energized particles? Stadi frowned, leaning forward. "Is that a sensor scan?"

"It could be," Taitt said. "It’s so different from how our sensors operate I can only give you an educated guess via Borg algorithms Seven programmed to revisit our logs, but watch this…"

A flash of light, and then a single thread appeared, a line of white among the dull endless greenish-yellow ocean of the other dimension. 

"It lasts roughly half an hour," Taitt said. "I have no way to conclusively tell you what’s happening there. It was beyond visible and sensor spectrums until Seven worked with the logs, so it’s mostly recreated from echoes and sensor ghosts we never noticed in the first place. But the pulses, the speed of the pulses, and the complexity of the pulses…"

"That looks like a data transfer to me," Lan said.

"And we didn’t even notice," Rollins said. 

"They operate with completely different technology to us—bio-engineered or grown or evolved—it’s bound to have this kind of incompatibility," Taitt said, shaking her head.

Stadi considered the breadth of data in their logs alone, even before you considered the depth of knowledge and specificity in the LCARS databases. "If they got to our computers, that’s all they’d need to understand Voyager inside and out, not to mention everything we’ve got on the Alpha Quadrant, Equinox… All of it."

"I’m starting to think Seven has the right idea," Rollins said, and when everyone looked his way, he said. "She wanted me to be very clear, Captain, that she doesn’t think we should count on the nano probe weapons being as effective as they were last time. The Undine have had a year to adapt." He lifted a shoulder. "She’s modifying some pulse compression rifles for us, and after that I’d like to get her started on some torpedoes."

"Wait," Fitzgerald held up his good hand. "Are we starting from a position of violence, here?"

"No, we’re gathering information," Cavit said, but then he turned to Rollins. "But we’re also going to make sure we’re capable of defending ourselves." He turned to Kes. "Can you offer any insight from when the Chorus reached the détente with the Undine last time?" 

Stadi felt Kes composing herself, gathering impressions and memories that were telepathic in nature and attempting to put them into some semblance of verbal language. An endless task for a telepath speaking to non-telepaths, and one that rarely, if ever, got easier.

"They existed as the sum total of intelligent life in their universe, Captain, and then the first time they met an 'other' it attempted to destroy them." Kes paused. "I don’t think we can underestimate the effect that had on their psychology."

"It’s like First Contact, only they got the Borg," Ro said.

"Right," Kes said. "But I think even calling it First Contact is understating—they were more powerful in their own medium, in fluidic space. Telepathically, they knew they were alone. Absolute certainty. And then they had to create the very concept of 'other-than-ourselves' for the first time as a response to violence."

Cavit nodded slowly. "I think I understand."

He didn’t, Stadi knew, but he was grasping the idea of it well enough. Stadi gave Kes a small nod of support, and she kept going. 

"The Chorus showed them another layer of that otherness," Kes said. "The Undine had only that barest conceptualization of 'self' and 'other-than-self' and they’d categorized everything that wasn’t Undine—including us—under the assumption of being identical to the Borg. We… gave them the memories and concepts they needed to understand the complexity of…" She sighed, pausing. "I’m sorry, I’m having a hard time putting this into words. The best I can come up with is Daggin… imprinted them… with IDIC." Kes lifted one hand. "After that, they had enough of a grasp in the immediate moment to understand we weren’t Undine, but we also weren’t Borg. And that was enough for them to back off, alongside the understanding we’d defend ourselves and that we could defend ourselves." Kes considered a moment longer. "They were reeling, Captain. Their entire worldview had been changed."

"Imagine going from knowing you are the only thing that is," Stadi said. "To knowing there are functionally infinite variations of life existing out there." Then she raised a hand. "In the middle of a battle." 

"I feel like you’re both saying they only retreated because they needed time to think, not because they agreed to a cease-fire," Ro said.

"That’s perhaps closer to the truth," Kes said. 

Cavit opened his mouth to say something else, but a wave of anger and thought slammed into Stadi and she had to throw up every mental defence she had against it. Beside her, Kes winced, pressed her palms into the tabletop, and then her presence brushed past Stadi, connected with the rest of the Ocampa into their Chorus, and the fury and noise was pushed away.

Stadi exhaled.

"Roni?" Ro said.

"Savel to Rollins." The Vulcan’s voice was, of course, calm over the channel.

Rollins was looking at Stadi as he responded. "Let me guess," Rollins said. "Our guest is awake."

"Aye, Lieutenant." 

Chapter Text

Stepping into the large open space alongside her sister, Jeta did her best not to simply turn around and flee again. 

So. This is a dance. Ahn’s thoughts sounded delighted. Nice to be invited.

By Undine intending to infiltrate us? Jeta sent her reply while keeping her expression as pleasant as she could. Everything she’d read about the Undine left her nervous and worried, though she was grateful the Chorus had told them both who it was actually all around them. 

Not that Ahn seemed to be particularly rattled. You know, technically Wyatt invited Li-Nis—sorry, Reah—not us.

Technicalities.

The lighting wasn’t optimal, but the room had been filled with silver and gold streamers, balloons, and while there were tables around the edges, most of the space was left open in the middle where cadets were dancing, and most had opted for casual attire. Jeta was glad to see at least a few cadet uniforms—she and Ahn wouldn’t completely stand out—but as she listened to the music and tried to imagine joining in to the apparently unstructured enjoyment thereof, she decided she’d be sticking to the tables around the edge.

She wished Doug Bronowski was here. He was a quiet man, with a calm and ordered mind, and if she was being honest with herself, she liked how they could be quiet together for long stretches of time in the Garden and how it didn’t feel like silence when they did so. He grounded her—not that anyone ever accused her of needing grounding—but in the moment, she’d happily have swapped. 

Unfortunately, some duplicate of Doug existed somewhere in "Terrasphere 8"—she’d checked on "Cadet Chano"’s computer—and so they’d likely have to stick to only beaming over individuals they were sure weren’t already here. 

"You came!" The voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and she turned to see the false Wyatt Dell approaching. He wore a plain white collared shirt and tan trousers, and appeared genuinely pleased to see her.

"We did, though we didn’t stop to change," she said, gesturing down at her uniform. 

"We figured you wouldn’t mind," Ahn said, with an easy, teasing tone Jeta envied. 

"No Reah?" Dell said.

"We’re not enough?" Ahn said, raising one eyebrow and giving him a challenging smile. 

"Oh okay, there’s no good answer to that question." Dell raised both hands in surrender. "How about I say I’m happy for your company, and we go from there?"

"Smooth," Ahn said, and Dell laughed, glancing at Jeta, and his attention on her made her feel very present again. She wished she could pick up more of his thoughts—his mind still felt a step removed, blurry and not-quite-right. Knowing this man actually belonged to a powerfully telepathic species left her even more off-balance in his presence, but unless she was mistaken, she was picking up more from him than last time in a tiny but present degree. Emotionally. She was starting to get a read on his emotions—emotions that felt human. In fact, she believed he wasn’t being disingenuous in one very real way.

The false Wyatt Dell was honestly nervous.

The more strident song ended, and the next selection was softer, more melodic and slow in its opening. 

"May I?" Dell said, with a little flourish and offering of a hand… to Jeta. 

Wait. What was happening? This couldn’t be right.  

"I’m not a very good dancer," Jeta blurted, hoping she didn’t look too much like one of the cats when they were startled awake, all wide-eyed and cornered. She’d imagined Dell would want to talk more with Ahn, not her. People preferred Ahn in social settings. Always.

"None of us are. I think that’s part of the whole point," Dell said, and honestly it was a little charming. She glanced at Ahn.

Go a head and play along, Ahn’s thoughts nudged hers. I’ll wait for Chano and keep an eye on you both. 

"All right," Jeta said, and took Dell’s hand. He led her to the centre of the floor, and then they faced each other a little awkwardly. Dell bit his bottom lip. "Okay, so…" He took her hand in his again, they got a little closer to each other, and he took her waist in his other hand and she found somewhere to put her hand and she knew she was in potential danger, but somehow she was also laughing because they were both terrible at this. 

Dell laughed too, then started swaying with her more-or-less in time to the music.

"Thank you," he said, speaking softly enough for his voice to carry only to her. "I know I’m not exactly the greatest at any of this. Anne seems way more comfortable than I am. I mean…" He winced, like he realized he was comparing her to her sister and that perhaps that wouldn’t be welcome.

Jeta shook her head. "I know what you mean. She’s comfortable wherever she goes."

"That’s… not me," Dell chuckled. "I’m still working out… a lot of it." 

She nodded. "Believe me, I understand." And it felt enough like the truth—she wasn’t comfortable either; she also wasn’t human, only pretending to be; she wasn’t part of this training environment, only pretending to be—that it strangely helped her relax another notch. 

He shifted his grip, pulling her a little closer, and allowed the adjustment in their positions and the dancing started to feel a little closer to normal. 

*

In the medical lab, Seven of Nine regarded the results of her efforts alongside Crewman Jamie Thomas and Crewman Sina. 

"That’s better," Thomas said, nodding once at the screen where the Borg nanoprobes they’d been working on for the better part of two hours were displayed. 

Seven of Nine was about to agree when Doctor Emmett Hall arrived, joining them and tilting his head at the same screen of information.

"Feisty little fellows," Emmett said, then paused, tapping on the controls to isolate more pertinent data. Seven saw his expression shift to one of concern. "You've increased their cellular motility by over two hundred percent."

"I thought it would be prudent to maximize their efficiency," Seven said. 

"It was a logical decision," Sina added. Seven nodded once in the direction of the Vulcan tactical engineering specialist. As was so often the case, Seven found dealing with Vulcans far more efficient than most species, though Crewman Thomas’s grasp of cybernetic technology was also above average. 

"Far be it from me to argue with a Vulcan about what’s logical," Emmett paused, and Seven of Nine believed there was at least an eighty percent chance the hologram was about to do exactly that. "But the last time we weaponized nanoprobes, it frightened the Undine back to their own realm."

"Technically the Ocampa convinced them to go back to their own realm by explaining we weren’t the same as the Borg," Thomas said. "And even then that was after the Captain threatened to teach the Borg how to use nanoprobes against them."

"Which occurred after we destroyed multiple Undine vessels with them," Sina added.

Seven simply raised an eyebrow. 

"Well, I for one am still holding out for a further diplomatic solution," Emmett said. 

"Improbable," Seven said. "Species 8472—" She saw the look pass between Crewman Thomas and Doctor Hall, and adjusted her tone somewhat. "—the Undine will not respond to diplomacy."

"Funny," Emmett said. "We used to say the same thing about the Borg. My point is, anything's possible if you keep an open mind. Optimism, my fellow crew. Try to look on the bright side."

Thomas cleared his throat and looked back at the display. Crewman Sina remained impassive, as was her usual nature. Seven, however, found herself frowning at the notion. 

"It is difficult to be optimistic when we are preparing for potential hostilities," she said.

"Have you ever heard the phrase, the best defence is a good offence?" Emmett said.

"No," Seven said. She considered reminding Emmett again of their current goal, but knew the hologram’s predilection for discourse would not be so easily dissuaded. Not when he believed he had something to teach her. 

"Throughout human history weapons of mass destruction were often designed in the hopes that they'd never be used," Emmett said, his voice strident. 

Seven, who had the full knowledge of the Borg at hand, not to mention multiple conversations since her arrival on Voyager with many of the crew, including Mestral, a Vulcan who’d spent a great deal of time on Earth, and the Captain, who held a great interest in Earth and Starfleet military history, shook her head at the sentiment. "And yet, in Earth's Third World War, nuclear weapons accounted for six hundred million casualties." She turned back to her work. "Were they 'looking on the bright side'?"

"An unfortunate exception," Emmett said.

"On Vulcan, the Time of Awakening led to a war utilizing similar weapons that nearly destroyed our world and our people as a whole," Sina added.

"Well…" Emmett said.

"The Bolian military released their cybernetically augmented agents to fight the Toric Mo’tar, only to have the extremists hack the technology and turn them against the ruling order," Crewman Thomas noted. "They’d promised they’d never use the technology that way, and it nearly destroyed them once they let the genie out of the bottle." 

Emmett regarded the three of them in turn. Seven of Nine waited for his response. 

"I’ll get started on the next batch," Emmett said. 

*

Pretending to be a nonhumanoid alien who was pretending to be you was a new experience. Chano had downloaded everything he could from "his" personal terminal, including noting that his own schedule included going to the dance, and so he’d headed to "his" closet and eyed his options. The choices available—cadet uniforms alongside a few off-duty shirts and trousers, most in black—felt oddly correct, and he considered that all the civilian items in the closet matched options he’d replicated in the early weeks after his rescue alongside the other former Hera crew. 

The records of which would have been in the replicator logs.

He’d chosen a short-sleeved shirt and pants and changed out of his cadet uniform—Reskat’s soft voice had suggested the short-sleeved option was more in keeping with what they’d noted in "Chano"’s logs about trying to become more comfortable with the physical confidence of an Orion male—and then he’d headed for the dance. 

They both hadn’t mentioned being surrounded by Undine, though only Chano knew the full extent of what that meant. Reskat hadn’t been on board when they’d gotten caught in the crossfire between the Undine and the Borg, and only knew about them from logs.

Which was enough, Chano knew, for the already anxious man to be even more worried than before. 

He tried to keep his mind on his false surroundings. Chano hadn’t gone to Starfleet Academy, and so the location held no actual memories for him. He’d trained at the Mars Institute for the entry requirements of Starfleet security crewmen, and then shifted to Vulcan for extra training there in his specialties of infiltration and counter-intelligence. It felt oddly like existing in a "What if?" holonovel of his own life.

Walking like someone attempting to impersonate him—which ultimately he decided to take the simplest route and just, well, walk—Chano made his way from the student dormitories to the main halls.

Outside the building where the dance was being held, a familiar face standing with two individuals Chano only knew from Starfleet personnel records appeared, and all three raised hands and voices in greeting.

"Chano," an Undine that looked—and sounded—like Lieutenant Cing’ta said. This "Bolian" male, however, also bore a cadet uniform. 

"Cing," Chano said, mirroring the familiarity. He nodded to the two other men, both "human," and added a familiar smile to include them, too. They were Lieutenant William Yates—the tactical officer of the Equinox—only this version of him wore an ensign’s pip, not the twin pips of his correct rank, and the other was one Lieutenant Maxwell Burke, the Equinox’s navigator, who was similarly not outfitted in his correct rank: he bore a junior grade lieutenant’s black-and-gold pairing of pips, not the twin gold he should have. 

Chano resisted the urge to speak to either man by name until he knew if they employed a diminutive. So many humans did. William could be Bill or Will, and Maxwell was often shortened to Max. But he didn’t know if the false Chano had that kind of relationship with these imposter versions of the humans. 

So many easy missteps to make.

"Check out who jigged up," Chano said, but with something of mockery in his deep voice, pointing at Burke, who laughed and dipped his head to one side with a rather less-than-humble smile. 

"Congratulations," Chano said, deciding to add some dry amusement to his own response, mirroring what "Cing’ta"’s approach.

"I still got a few facts wrong in the latest test," the false Burke said. He had a remarkably deep voice, deeper even than Cing’ta’s. "But we’ll get there."

"By the time the Equinox is built, we’ll be flawless," Yates said, dark eyes determined in a way that Chano couldn’t quite put a finger on. Pride, perhaps, but also… anger? 

"No doubt," Chano said, since everyone seemed to be waiting for him to say something. They’re building a version of Equinox? An entire starship?

"We won’t keep you two," the false Yates said. "Just wanted to show off." He paused, rubbing his temples with slender, dark fingers. "Also, I need an injection soon."

"Let’s not be late for that," Burke said, taking the other man by the elbow. He paused, though, grinning at Chano. "I take it you’re out to practice how to break some hearts?" 

"No," Chano said, because this topic was one well covered in "his" logs. "You know I’d never take advantage of anyone like that." It felt deeply odd to parrot an imposter’s version of his own deeply conflicted feelings about his pheromonal influence on those who found men attractive. He’d been truly grateful when Doctor Li-Kes Aren had come up with a nearly perfect suppressant thanks to working with Reskat. 

"Strangest Orion I’ve ever met," Burke said, and the flawless delivery of the line almost made Chano bristle. The condescension of humans like Burke—especially certain male humans—had been a recurring one in Chano’s life. 

"We’re going to go inside," Cing’ta said, putting one hand at the small of Chano’s back. "Before you start a fight, Max." But the false Bolian’s tone was off. This was play acting. They were all doing it, and in fact, Chano got the impression "Burke" was waiting for something from Chano in response.

Deciding to risk it, Chano said, "That was good. I believed it. Well done."

Burke’s expression shifted from the arrogant, full-of-himself bravado to something far more neutral and open, and he said. "I wish I’d drawn someone a little less self-assured." 

"You and me both," Chano said, drawing on years of training, and earning a warm smile from the Undine pretending to be Maxwell Burke.

A minute later, he and the false Cing’ta were inside the auditorium, and Chano started looking for Ahn and Jeta, spotting the former chatting with cadet-uniformed versions of Crewman Timothy Lang and Zachary Larson, and then finding Jeta on the dance floor with "Cadet" Wyatt Dell. 

"I’ll get us drinks," Cing’ta said, and Chano gave him a nod of appreciation. He’d need to steer them to Ahn, but for now, he took in the familiar faces and considered the data rod he’d passed to Reskat already. 

Speaking of which. 

Chano rubbed his left ear with one hand, a quick gesture of scratching an itch.

A soft pressure—the there-and-gone-again touch of Reskat in his personal cloak—pressed against his shoulder and then released. 

Reskat was still with him. It wasn’t a truly crowded room; the space was too large for it to feel claustrophobic or for people to struggle to move. But there were definitely a lot of people present. Still, he trusted the Ramuran man to stay out of everyone’s way.

Cing’ta returned with drinks, and began a conversation about their duties on Voyager Chano realized was entirely about practicing for their roles as infiltrators. Chano gave it his full attention, doing his best to answer well, confidently, and only make a few small mistakes now and then—most of which Cing’ta gently corrected.

When Cing’ta made an error about the tactical schedule, Chano did the same, and Cing’ta sighed. 

"Right," the big Bolian said, nodding at Chano’s correction. "So much to remember."

"We’ll get it," Chano said, remembering how often that exact phrase repeated in his logs. 

Cing’ta nodded, then paused. "Hey, did you hear about those two?" 

Chano turned to look to see who Cing’ta meant, and felt a stir of worry when he realized the Bolian was directing his attention at Ahn and Jeta. The sisters were side-by-side now, with the false Dell, Lang, and Larson.

"No," Chano said, voice affecting a borderline boredom. "What about them?"

"Not from Voyager or Equinox—I hadn’t realized we’d expanded beyond Bullock and some of the other secondary concerns." 

Secondary concerns. Chano itched to learn the context of that particular statement. "Huh," he said, neutrally.

"I wonder who they’re linked to," Cing’ta said. "I didn’t have either of them in my packet. They’re not in yours?" 

"No," Chano said, shaking his head. His impostor’s log had referred to his "packet" once or twice, which sounded like a dossier of information about both himself and the people mentioned in his personal logs with suggestions of how close he seemed to be to them, but he hadn’t found anything in the room that might be the packet itself. 

"Well," Cing’ta said. "Up for some practice?" 

Chano realized the impostor meant socially interacting with Ahn and Jeta. 

"Sure," Chano said, happy for the excuse, but remembering to remain in character. "Tell me if I don’t look comfortable enough with the attention, okay?" That had been a recurring theme in the logs: his impostor struggled with the nuances of being aware of his own attractiveness and the effect it had on others—or, more to the point, his pheromonal influence—without reacting too visibly when it made him uncomfortable. He almost felt pity for the imposter they’d beamed back to Voyager—that man didn’t like the sensuality and sexuality he’d been asked to reproduce. 

Cing’ta nodded once, then eyed him. "Uh. Later… Did you maybe want to try… again?" and Chano remembered another rather explicit entry in the false Chano’s logs. The Undine had six genders across sequential and simultaneous hermaphrodite physiology; any two of their kind in compatible states were capable of creating appropriate gametes and could cross-impregnate. From what Chano had read, the Undine who was training to take on his identity found being a limited, single-gender being confounding, and his thoughts on sexuality were… well.  

"Sure," Chano said, not having to work too hard to fake awkwardness. 

"Great," Cing’ta said, in a tone that didn’t quite ring true, and then they headed across the room.

*

Daggin, Kes, and Setok stood in a small trio to the one side of the brig, while Cavit considered the tripodal alien in the cell. According to Savel and Hughes, the alien had woken up angry, tested the edge of the forcefield once with a single forceful sweep of its massive clawed hands, and then braced itself somewhat awkwardly on the bed—its three legs didn’t seem to have a comfortable way to utilize the surface.

Savel and Hughes both had modified pulse compression rifles, Cavit noted. It wasn’t the kind of tone he usually tried to set in these instances, but.

"Are you able to communicate with our guest?" Cavit said, aiming the question at the three Ocampa. 

"Yes, Captain," Kes said. Her voice, usually gentle and compassionate, held an edge of iron, and her expression—a distance in her blue-eyed gaze—told him she, Setok, and Daggin were in the Chorus. No doubt Eru, Gara, Cir, Abol and maybe even Li-Nis were also taking part, albeit at a removed distance on other decks or the Delta Flyer. 

"What about reaching the other Undine?" Cavit said. "Could this one warn them we’re here?"

"When they first woke up, they did reach out." Setok answered the question this time. "The biological process they’ve used to alter their genetic state cut them off from their own telepathic ability—though I’m fairly certain they’ll develop analogous abilities while impersonating telepathic species, Captain."

"I don’t believe there are any Undine in their natural form nearby," Kes said. "They knew some of us can sense them, and didn’t want to risk that, though this one was also surprised we’re here." 

Cavit considered that. "Because of the push you gave us?" After the Undine had gone back to fluidic space, the Ocampa—their psychokinetic gifts growing exponentially after exposure to something about the Undine telepathic communication—had nearly cost them the Ocampa, and had left them dangerously powered, a power they’d used to push Voyager nearly ten thousand light years closer to home. 

"I believe so," Setok said. 

Cavit turned to the cell. The Undine’s cruciform irises flicked his way.

"My name is Captain Aaron Cavit," he said. "But I gather you already know that. We’ve been to your recreation of Starfleet. It looks to us like you’re planning an invasion." Cavit paused when the being simply stared at him. "I’d like to know why you’ve returned to our galaxy, and what your intentions are." 

Its head shifted, tilting to one side. 

"I… will not… speak to you," Daggin said, hesitantly at first, then with more confidence as—Cavit imagined—he grew more comfortable with grasping the being’s voice. "Your kind deceive."

Our kind do what? Cavit frowned. "I don’t understand," he said. "What do you mean, we deceive? We’ve never lied to you." He tried not to dwell on the flip-side of that truth: that they’d also threatened and more-or-less blackmailed the Undine, but at the time, they’d been facing a galaxy-wide extermination, so… you did what you could.

In the cell, the Undine closed their eyes and went still. 

Cavit eyed the three Ocampa. 

Kes shook her head.

"Good chat," Cavit said, with a sigh.

*

Something was off. Dell and Cing’ta seemed to be keeping them together, keeping them talking, and while it didn’t fall outside the "training" he’d read about in the Undine’s logs back in his room, it was making him more and more cautious.

Chano trusted his instincts, even when he didn’t have something specific he could put his finger on, and he’d been trying to find a casual way to nudge the conversation to them all going their separate ways—most pointedly giving "Anne" and "Jenny" an out so they could return to the Delta Flyer from some clandestine beam-out point—but Dell and Cing’ta kept jumping in with one more suggestion, which had started with them all heading to a café after the dance had ended, where they’d had coffees and K’tarian chocolate puffs, and now—at Dell’s insistence—a walk along the waterfront. 

"It’s getting late," Chano said. 

"True," Ahn said, smiling at him and spreading her hands out like she was enjoying the very feel of the night air. "As much as I hate to end such a lovely evening with such nice company, maybe we should head back and get some sleep?" 

Something chirped. Chano glanced at Dell, who’d been walking arm-in-arm with Jeta, but paused long enough to pull a combadge from his pocket. "Sorry," he said, letting go of her and offering an apologetic smile. He tapped it. "Go ahead."

"Scans confirmed. Detain." The single word came in a deep, gravelly voice. 

Fuck. Chano braced, ready to react, but both Cing’ta and Dell aimed all their attention at Ahn and Jeta, not him, and now Cing’ta had a phaser he’d drawn from his tunic and Ahn and Jeta froze. 

"What’s going on?" Jeta said.

"You’re not on any personnel logs," Dell said. "I checked. And they ran a genetic trace on the cups you two left behind at the coffee shop." He lifted the combadge. "We’ve got them."

The blue-white shower of a Federation transporter effect briefly lit them as five figures beamed in. Four officers, including Admiral Bullock, and…

Boothby? 

"Well now," the Undine posing as Boothby said. "According to our scans, you two aren’t human at all."

They don’t know about me, Chano thought. 

A soft pressure against his shoulder squeezed once, then twice. Reskat letting him know he was about to head away and discretely attempt to contact the Delta Flyer. Maybe they could beam Ahn and Jeta out. 

*

"Sam, shields just went up around the station," Li-Paz said from the Ops station. 

"We won’t be able to get a transporter lock," Sveta noted.

Lieutenant Sam Stiles grimaced, turning from the Delta Flyer’s Conn to look at the woman seated at the Science station. "Li-Nis?" 

"They’ve been exposed," Li-Nis’s voice was a step-removed, head tilted as she took part in the Chorus. "Ahn and Jeta. Not Chano."

"We need to tell the Captain," Stiles said.

"I’m letting the rest of the Chorus know," Li-Nis said, her voice tight with worry.

Stiles looked through the windshield at the structure floating in space. 

Now what?

Chapter Text

Cavit rubbed the bridge of his nose, reading through the updates from Seven of Nine, Rollins, and going through the data the Away Team had gathered on their first trip over to the artificial habitat. 

His Ready Room door chimed, and he blew out a breath. "Come."

When his husband walked in with a Mess Hall tray bearing two covered bowls and two mugs, Cavit glanced at his personal monitor and saw he’d overshot lunch. 

"Sorry," Cavit said.

"Don’t worry about it." Fitzgerald shook his head, putting the tray down on the desk before sitting down across from him. "It’s mushroom soup and cascara—something we can both get through quickly." 

Cavit smiled gratefully at the man he loved, and they both started in on their soup, not speaking and with the determination of people for whom a meal was currently so low down on the list of priorities they were only taking part because they knew they should.

Which, Cavit supposed, was the entire reason Jeff had brought it to him.

When the bowls were empty, his husband leaned back in his chair with his mug of the coffee-cherry-tea. "Where are you at?" Fitzgerald said.

"Oh, that’s a big question." Cavit chuckled, though it held little humour. "That habitat is very well armed, we’ve created nanoprobe torpedoes with even more destructive warheads but that presupposes there are bioships out there somewhere—though Seven of Nine believes…" He paused, wanting to get the wording correct, turning his personal monitor to face him and reading it verbatim. "…dispersement of multiple nanoprobe torpedoes within the habitat would be effective." 

"Effective," Fitzgerald said, and Cavit heard the worry in the man’s voice. Or maybe it was something closer to disapproval. 

"I know," Cavit said, conceding the point. "But we can’t even get the Undine in our brig to speak to us, Jeff." 

"Does that mean giving up on the idea of diplomacy?" Fitzgerald said.

"No," Cavit said. "It means being prepared." He took a swallow of cascara, barely tasting it. "I’m trying to put myself into their shoes, Jeff, but I don’t understand what they’re doing here. It’s a clear plan to somehow replace us or pose as us—or Equinox—but… to what end? Also, how are they planning to get to the Alpha Quadrant? They’re a long way from where we first encountered them as it is." 

"What we know about their psychology would fit on the back of a PADD," Fitzgerald said. "But I keep thinking about the Silvers." 

Cavit raised an eyebrow, not following. "The Silvers?" The deuterium-and-biological beings that had formed after telepathic contact with Stadi—and then the rest of Voyager’s telepathic crew—didn’t strike him as anything like the Undine, though he supposed they had originally tried to hold some of the crew hostage when they were confused and off-balance.

"They didn’t understand us—or themselves—and reacted out of fear," Fitzgerald said. "Their world view—their sentience, in fact—was created by our arrival, by Stadi’s nightmare, really. They had to create an understanding of the universe." He lifted his mug. "The Undine were in a similar boat before the Borg invaded."

Cavit saw the parallel now. "You’re talking about what Kes said, how they’ve had to adjust to even knowing people other than themselves even existed, and then that there were different kinds of others."

"Right," Fitzgerald said.

"And you don’t think it’s alarming the first thing they’ve chosen to do is impersonate—"

"Ro to Cavit." 

Cavit frowned, hearing the tension in Ro’s voice. "Go ahead."

"The Delta Flyer just reported they lost transporter lock on the Away Team, and Li-Nis told the Chorus Ahn and Jeta were taken into custody on the habitat. They’ve raised shields, but Sam doesn’t think they’ve spotted the Aeroshuttle."

"I’ll be right there," Cavit said, rising. "Bring the modified torpedoes online, just in case."

*

"You’re not human, you’re Ocampa." Boothby’s voice no longer held the edge of a cantankerous but loving patriarch, Jeta thought, but something much closer to open hostility. And since they’d learned through the Chorus that the "old man" in front of her was, in fact, actually a member of the Undine, she couldn’t exactly blame him.

"That’s right," she said. "And you’re an Undine." 

Ahn glanced at her. Why are you talking to him? They’d been brought to what appeared to be a café, but there were no customers. Only the false Boothby, Admiral Bullock, and "cadet" Wyatt Dell. Bullock seemed angry, but Dell…

Dell was why she’d answered. Directive 010. They had to at least try to communicate here. 

"Well, now that we’re being honest with each other," Boothy said, regarding them both with an even stare. "How many ships?"

What? Jeta frowned. Surely they knew from Voyager’s logs they were alone.

"Cat got your tongue?" Boothby scoffed. "I asked you a question. How many vessels do you have in the Delta Quadrant?"

"Only one," Jeta said, frowned. "Or, I suppose it’s perhaps two—we don’t know where Equinox is now. You know that. You copied our database while we were in fluidic space." At least, that’s what Abol had shared with Ahn and Jeta through the Chorus from Voyager.

Bullock crossed his arms and huffed out a breath.

"How did you find us?" This came from Dell, and Jeta thought he sounded softer. More curious than angry.

"You did your job too tell," Jeta said, and when Dell frowned, Ahn leaned forward in her chair.

"The communications in the Terrasphere match Federation subspace transmission—my father picked up stray signals, and tracked them here," Ahn said. 

"Apparently our desire to get the details right worked a little too well," Boothby said.

That gave Dell pause, but Bullock scoffed again, then shook his head. 

"Even if we believe you about the signal, we don’t believe you about being from Voyager, or that you don’t know where Equinox is. You don’t match any of the files we have," Bullock said. "Who are you?" 

"I’m Ahn, she’s Jeta," Ahn said. "We’re Crewman Cir and Crewman Eru’s daughters."

That made them all frown.

"We’re Ocampa, like you said," Jeta said. "Our species grows to adulthood in about a year." She thought of her father, and how he’d be correcting her to point out that technically, Ocampa considered a one year old to be roughly comparable to a human of seventeen or eighteen and that a two year old was a full adult, but the nuances weren’t important, and she wasn’t about to announce herself as "sort of an adult."

"Now that you know about our re-creation, you've no doubt alerted the Federation." Boothby crossed his arms. "Your fleet will be on its way."

"We don’t have a fleet," Ahn said, sounding annoyed now, which Jeta could understand, even if she maybe thought Ahn’s strong personality and impatience for incompetence had perhaps taken a less-than-perfect moment to show up. 

"No fleet," Jeta said. "We’re alone—that’s why we came, we’d hoped we were about to find some other people from the Federation."

"Then why did you sneak onto the Terrasphere?" Dell said, frowning. "If you thought our Federation signals meant we were friends?"

"Because when we managed to tap into a feed, we saw you." Jeta lifted her hands. "Not you specifically, Wyatt, but… you’ve recreated everyone from Voyager, the Hera, the T’Vran, and the Li Nalas—it was obvious you weren’t actually the Federation, but some sort of imposters."

"Of course we had to investigate," Ahn said. 

"But you’ll notice we didn’t attack." Jeta met Dell’s gaze. Boothby and Bullock didn’t seem particularly interested in considering them in even the slightest of good lights, but Dell, on the other hand…

A chime sounded from behind the café’s counter, and Bullock crossed the space and tapped a screen control. 

"Sir, a starship is approaching," Bullock said, glancing back, his angry, dark eyes flicking back and forth between Ahn and Jeta before turning back to Boothby. "It's Voyager."

"Stand by all weapons," Boothy said.

"They’re not here to fight," Jeta said, feeling the truth of the words as the Chorus—her mother and father’s presence coming closer and closer—strengthened among them. "They’re here to make sure we’re okay. That’s all." 

"How can we believe that?" Boothby said. "All you vacuum-livers lie."

Jeta frowned, glancing at Ahn, but Ahn shook her head.

She didn’t know what lies they were supposed to have told either.

"Keep them here," Boothy said to Dell, who nodded. "We’ll go to Ops."

As soon as Boothby and Bullock were gone, Jeta felt Ahn considering drawing on the Chorus to knock Dell unconscious, but she reached out telepathically and held her back. 

If we fight, we’ll only convince them they’re right, Jeta sent. 

"You’re communicating telepathically, aren’t you?" Dell said.

Jeta looked at him. "Yes."

Dell sighed. He’d drawn a phaser, but he didn’t raise it. With a wry smile, he shook his head. "I miss it." 

Eru and Cir appeared in the room to Jeta, telepathically. The others—Setok, Kes, Daggin, Abol, Gara and Li-Nis—weren’t fully present, though the feel of them strengthened further still. Jeta even thought she was picking up worry from the Baxter boys, Arev, and T’Ral, though they weren’t included in the Chorus, of course. 

Are you all right? Her mother’s question held tension. 

We’re fine. Jeta looped herself a little further into the Chorus, allowed her mother to feel what she herself could feel on the edge of her own senses: a nearby presence, fuzzy and indistinct. And Reskat’s still with us.

*

"Sam and the Flyer?" Cavit said, aiming the question at Rollins as he took his seat beside Ro. 

"Still heading this way," Rollins said from Tactical. "No doubt the Undine have spotted them now, but so far, no one’s shooting."

 Cavit glanced at Eru and Cir, who Ro had brought to the bridge to keep the Chorus accessible—especially since Setok, Daggin, and Kes were all making sure their guest in the brig didn’t somehow try to telepathically raise the alarm. They stood beside the Tactical station, out of the way, but their eyes trained on the complex on the viewscreen. "How are the girls?" he said.

"They’re fine," Eru said. "Reskat is with them, and they haven’t been harmed, only detained." 

"Detention is harm," Cir said, and Cavit was reminded once again that the large man took great pains to appear as a gentle giant—but could definitely drop the "gentle" if the situation called for it. "The Undine think we’ve lied to them, that we’re liars."

"Lied about what?" Lan said.

Cir shook his head.

"They’re charging their weapons," Rollins said. "I’m not detecting any active weapon locks."

"Stadi, bring us in slow, nothing that could appear too hostile," Cavit said. "But Scott? Raise shields."

"Aye, Captain," Rollins and Stadi said in turn.

"Sahreen, anything?" Ro said.

"Nothing yet, but we knew it might take time," Lan said. 

The doors opened on the rear of the Bridge, and Cavit glanced back to see Seven of Nine arriving with Taitt. Taitt crossed to the science station, and Seven stood at Mission Ops, shoulders ramrod straight and lips even more grim and determined than usual.

"We have nineteen standard thoron torpedoes and three high-yield torpedoes modified with nanoprobes," Seven of Nine said.

Cavit nodded. Jeff had gone to Sickbay—"Just in case," he’d said—given Kes was needed in the Brig, but he hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

"They’re locking on the Flyer," Rollins said, raising his voice in alarm.

"Stadi," Ro said. "Get us between if you can."

"Moving us in," Stadi said.

This is going to hell, Cavit thought. He turned to Lan. "Try to get a signal through. Hail them on every channel you can." 

"Aye, Captain," Lan said, working. 

"They’re firing," Rollins said. On the viewscreen, Cavit watched a trio of the cannons surrounding the edge of the station fire out rapid bursts in a co-ordinated series. "The Flyer is evading, but they took a couple of hits—their shields are holding."

"Sam’s a good pilot," Stadi said. "He’s managing to close the distance as well as weave. Thirty more seconds and they can duck behind us." 

"Come on," Cavit said beneath his breath. "Answer us." He eyed Lan, but she shook her head.

Cavit looked at Ro, and she gave him a grim nod in return.

*

Chano nodded casually to anyone who made eye contact, but moved with the focus and speed of someone with a purpose and nothing to hide. The former being far more true than the latter didn’t matter much if you knew how to project the very air of belonging somewhere. 

He’d had years of doing just that before the Hera had been destroyed by a subspace anomaly and tossed across the galaxy. Three years of downtime prior to coming back aboard Voyager might have left him a little rusty at first, but there was no training like teaching, and Lieutenant Rollins had asked Chano to join Lt. Cing’ta in going over covert tactical training with both the cadets and a class the lieutenant had put together for those interested in expanding their security training.

Orion confidence and practiced poise got him three quarters of the way to his target, inside the recreation of the commandant’s building on the Starfleet Academy grounds, but his investigations after Ahn and Jeta had been exposed had made it clear key areas of the entire terrasphere were now on a security clearance basis, and he—or rather, the Undine who’d been pretending to be him—didn’t have the clearance Chano needed for the next part. 

Luckily, the two guards present at the end of the hallway, now standing to either side of the lift, were familiar to him: One was Stephen Niles—though he had a crewman rank, not the Ensign rank he’d earned recently through promotion—and the other was Crewman Andreas Murphy. 

Everything he’d read in "his" logs the Undine had written about adjusting to life as an Orion male led Chano to wager something the Undine impersonating him had complained about multiple times would also apply to the two "humans" standing guard.

"Stephen, Andreas," Chano said, walking toward them with purpose and holding out a PADD in front of him. "I’ve been asked to check for signs of infiltration." 

As he’d hoped, both men looked at the PADD, and that gave him the distraction he needed to bring it up hard against "Niles"’s face with one hand while elbowing "Murphy" in the throat with his other arm. Both men staggered—but Murphy choked—so Chano slipped the hypo free from his sleeve and hit Niles with it first before grabbing Murphy and pressing it against the sandy-haired man’s neck. 

Both men slumped, though Chano kept Murphy upright long enough to press his thumb against the turbolift panel access.

It opened, and he pulled both unconscious men in after him.

"Going down," he said, tapping in his destination.

*

Voyager jolted once as she took a hit meant for the Delta Flyer, and then Rollins said. "They’re behind us." 

"Captain," Lan said. "I’m getting a signal."

"Finally." Cavit rose from his feet. "Put it through."

On the viewscreen, the face of a man Cavit would have sworn was Boothby had he not known better appeared. 

"Captain Cavit," Boothby said, in a voice like ice.

"Should I call you Boothby?" Cavit said. 

Boothby’s lips thinned. "Don't get sassy with me, mister. This recreation may be Starfleet but by now you know our weapons are far more sophisticated." His lip curled. "I can destroy your vessel with a single command. Run along now."

As opening discussions went, it didn’t exactly earn a place among Cavit’s favourites.  

"You have to know I won’t leave without my people," Cavit said.

Boothby scowled. "You’re in no position to make demands, Captain."

"And you’re in the wrong galaxy," Cavit said. "You were pretty clear about us not returning to fluidic space—why are you back?"

"Tell me why I shouldn’t just destroy you, right now," Boothby said. 

"For one, we’ve targeted your station with Borg-adapted nanoprobe torpedoes," Cavit said. "I don’t want to use them, but I will." 

"Don't try to rattle my cage," Boothby said. "I’ll disable your tactical systems before you can."

Cavit shook his head. "Don’t turn this into a fight. Please. We don’t want to fight you—"

"Bah!"

"—but I’ll remind you, the last time? Our weapons were deadly to your people. So I’ll ask you again—why are you here?"

"You expect me to answer that while you threaten our lives, again?" 

"You threatened to purge our galaxy of all life once," Cavit said. "But I know you didn’t understand that we weren’t the same as the Borg, at the time, we didn’t know the Borg had invaded you first. We both didn’t understand each other then, and I think we’re not understanding each other now."

Boothby stared at him. "What are you suggesting?"

Cavit felt a trace of the tension in his chest release. "Well. You’re in human form. Want to come over for dinner?"

Chapter Text

Chief Basil McMinn and Crewman Celes Tal had gone all out, Cavit saw, when he stepped into the Mess hall. Tablecloths, the good white-and-gold place settings from the Amundsen, and an array of dishes he didn’t imagine it had been easy to come up with on the fly while Eru and Gara were both needed both as part of the Chorus and in ensuring their "guest" in the brig wasn’t able to reach out to the Undine on the station—terrasphere. 

Terrasphere 8. That had been a particularly striking note in the information they’d managed to gather. Eight implied seven more. 

At least. He took a breath, smoothing his dress uniform, and glanced up as the doors opened and Fitzgerald and Ro arrived together. He loved his husband, and the man cut a fine figure in the blue dress uniform, but somehow it was Ro who made the more formal attire look impressive. 

"You actually make that uniform look good," Cavit said, nodding to his first officer. 

"The trick is not to let it wear you," Ro deadpanned, and Cavit grinned. Okay, if Ro Laren was willing to tell a joke, they weren’t so far into the weeds as all that. 

"Did you check in with the Chorus?" Cavit said, aiming the question at Fitzgerald.

"Ahn and Jeta are being kept in a café, not a prison, and they report their guards aren’t mistreating them. Eru and Cir are on the Bridge, so they’ll be able to inform Stadi if anything changes."

"Scott and Sahreen are keeping an eye on the terrasphere," Ro said.

"All right," Cavit said, nodding, then smiling at McMinn and Celes, who’d appeared with some wine bottles and a silver tureen. "This looks amazing, you two."

"I opened the second last bottle of uttaberry wine," McMinn said, lifting one bottle, then the other. "And the blue is one of Li-Paz’s patterns of Bajoran springwine."

"You’re sure you don’t want us to serve?" Celes said—and to her credit, she didn’t sound afraid he’d change his mind, but up to the task if he had. 

"No," Fitzgerald said, answering for him. "Self-serve gives people something to do with some of their energy—and a way for us to make connections; offering to pour…" Fitzgerald waved his good hand in a circle.

"Understood," McMinn said. Not for the first time, Cavit thought he’d lucked into the best quartermaster in Starfleet. 

"Thanks Basil, Tal," Cavit said, and the two left their last dishes and bottles on the table, then left.

"Do we know who’s coming?" Fitzgerald said.

"I’m assuming Boothby, but beyond that…" Cavit shook his head. "I just know they agreed, and I’m taking that as the sign it—"

Shimmering columns of what appeared to be a Starfleet transporter effect appeared on the other side of the draped tables.

"—is," Cavit said, turning and facing the figures beaming in. Exactly on time. He’d assumed they’d beam over to the Transporter room, but apparently not.

The figures materialized, and Cavit took them in. Boothby, as expected. Next stood a lieutenant commander in operations gold wearing a prosthetic device across his eyes—that would be Geordi La Forge, Cavit thought—and beside him was a strikingly handsome captain with a familiar face—Eric Sanders—and then last…

"Wyatt," Cavit said, unable to stop himself, even though he knew it wasn’t Wyatt Dell. 

The man—who wasn’t actually human—regarded him with an odd expression, something that Cavit would have put down to curiosity from a human being. 

"Crewman Dell died," Cavit said, answering the unspoken question honestly, in the spirit of what he was hoping to achieve. "It’s strange to see someone who looks like him." 

Dell’s expression smoothed out to something harder to read. "I’m sorry for your loss," he said. 

This is one of the strangest conversations I’ve had in my life.

"Thank you for coming," Cavit said. "We appreciate the effort to maintain a dialog."

"A dialog," Sanders said, scoffing. "One of your many words for manipulation."

Yeah, okay, other than his good looks, that man was nothing like Eric Sanders. 

"The real Eric Sanders is a trained diplomat who believed dialog to be one of the greatest tools in the galaxy," Fitzgerald said, clearly on the same page and also Cavit was absolutely not going to allow himself to remember Fitzgerald and Sanders had dated because that was not relevant information in this moment. 

"Is that the same tool you were using when you had those Ocampa threaten our very existence?" La Forge wasn’t a man Cavit had met, but he imagined the real La Forge wouldn’t be so combative. 

"At the time, we were defending ourselves from you," Ro said. 

Sanders scoffed again.

"Why don’t we sit," Cavit said, spreading his hands a bit. "McMinn and Celes put together some nice food and drink, and perhaps we can start with answering one of your questions."

Boothby grunted, then nodded, but none of the Undine sat. 

Cavit took a seat first, and only after Ro and Fitzgerald joined him did the Undine move to take seats of their own. 

"How do we know you’ll answer us truthfully?" Sanders said. 

"All we can offer you is our word we will," Fitzgerald said.

"Targ manure," Boothby muttered. 

This is not going to be easy. Cavit reached for the bottle of springwine. "Have you ever tried springwine, Boothby?"

Boothby eyed it. "No."

"Eating and drinking has been new to us," Dell said. 

Cavit glanced at him. Okay. That wasn’t hostile. 

He poured the wine.

*

Stadi rose from the big chair as Sam Stiles arrived on the Bridge. 

"You all okay?" she said.

The man nodded. He had a rough-and-tumble look to him, did Sam Stiles, but he was one of the most responsible people she’d ever encountered. She’d long ago noticed that when Stiles thought he was in charge of someone’s well-being, it became the most central focus of his mind. 

A lieutenancy and position as a bridge officer suited him.

"We are. Thanks for the cover. Flyer is docked—T’Pala is going over the damage," he said. He eyed the terrasphere on the viewscreen. "Did they come aboard?"

"They did," Lan said from Ops. "Beamed right into the Mess Hall."

"Boothby, La Forge, Sanders, and Dell," Rollins said—then spread his hands. "Well, not really, but."

"Wyatt Dell was a good man," Stiles said, and Stadi felt a flare of anger from the man—it offended Stiles that the Undine had appropriated Wyatt Dell’s name and appearance—and she glanced at him.

"We worked together, during that whole Dreadnought thing on Rakosa," Stiles said. "Right after I got promoted."

"Right." She nodded, sensing how Dell—a by-the-book sort of Starfleet officer—accepting that promotion had gone a long way to Stiles being willing to accept it himself. She took a breath, knowing how tense Stiles was, and that he wasn’t just here to report the successful return of the Flyer so much as he wanted to feel useful—and be ready if someone was needed to make sure Ahn, Jeta, Chano and Reskat were recovered. "Why don’t you take a relief station—right now they’re talking and eating, but if things need to happen quickly, I wouldn’t mind having you at hand."

"Aye, Commander," Stiles said, and headed to the rear of the Bridge.

Stadi caught Rollins looking at her, and he gave her a small nod. She sensed he knew she’d done that for Stiles’s own sense of purpose as much as anything else, and that he approved. Also, he hated waiting.

"You and me both," she said, which made him blink, then smile. She turned to Lan. "Anything from Chano?" 

"Not yet," Lan said. 

Stadi returned to the big chair and sat. She wished she was at the helm, but knew Renlay Sharr could handle anything sudden that might occur. Ensign Sharr’s ability to pivot and roll with the punches made her perfect for the moment if Stadi had to be the one in command. 

*

"Peaceful?" Boothby snorted. "You say 'peaceful' but you’ve got weapons you designed specifically to kill us aimed our way, and you sent spies into our midst!"

Cavit took a breath, trying to consider the how to respond to Boothby’s immediate dismissal of their intentions, but Ro leaned forward. 

"Your recreation had duplicates of all of us," she said. "It was clear someone was intending to impersonate us—but we didn’t know you were Undine. What we were doing was gathering intelligence, trying to determine if there was a threat. But you know we couldn’t have known it was you."

La Forge leaned back in his chair. "You say gathering intelligence, we say infiltration."

"And don’t forget the weapons specifically designed to infect our species," Sanders said.

"Which we developed as a last resort," Fitzgerald said. "We tried to reach you peacefully when we first met. Multiple times. You rejected contact with us—said our galaxy would be 'purged.’" Fitzgerald leaned forward. "How would you react to that?" 

"We were reacting to that," Boothby said.

"The Borg invaded you, not us," Cavit said, and held up a hand when Sanders scoffed. "I understand that wasn’t a nuance you understood at the time, just like we didn’t know the Borg had invaded you first." Something occurred to him, and he spread his hands. "We know you downloaded all our logs, our databases—it’s how you created such a perfect facsimile of San Francisco—You must know Starfleet history, our regulations and directives, as well as everything that’s happened to us since we arrived in this part of our galaxy."

"A claim of high-minded ideals is one thing," La Forge said. "But we know you have a Borg on board—or are you going to tell us that’s not how you created nanoprobe weapons?"

"Seven of Nine is no longer part of the Collective," Fitzgerald said. "She’s not a Borg any more, she’s an individual—one we recovered from the Borg."

"Once a Borg, always a Borg," La Forge said. 

"If you were really Geordi La Forge, you’d know that wasn’t true," Ro said. "The real Geordi and I served under a captain who was assimilated by the Borg, and then freed from the collective."

"Captain Picard," La Forge said. "I’m aware."

"It’s not just the Borg," Sanders said. "It's the humans—and Bajorans—the Federation, the Cardassians, all the species we learned about from your database—that’s the threat."

"We’re no threat to you," Fitzgerald said, with feeling. 

"So you say," Dell said, but Cavit heard a trace of hesitancy in the man’s voice.

"The people you’re talking about? The Federation—humans, Bajorans, everyone?" Cavit leaned forward. "Only Starfleet has any knowledge of your species or fluidic space, and even then, they believe we reached détente with you. They have no intentions of breaking the peace we brokered with you."

"And when you report what you’ve seen here?" Dell said.

"We can’t," Fitzgerald said. "We have no way to get in contact with the Alpha or Beta Quadrants right now—you know that, from our logs. We did have a short-term way to reach them, and we updated them with our logs, but it’s gone."

"And even if we could," Ro said. "The Federation doesn’t invade. But it looks like that’s what you’re planning to do."

"Maybe I am," Boothby said. "And we know you lie."

"You keep saying that," Fitzgerald said. 

"What is it you think we’re lying about?" Cavit said, because Jeff was right. They seemed to believe something was inherently disingenuous here, and he wasn’t sure why they thought so.

"You told us there were Borg and other," Dell said. "But there are more."

"Wyatt," Boothby said, a warning in his tone.

Cavit frowned. "More. You mean…" He gestured between himself and Ro. "Human, Bajoran…"

"Trill, Vulcan, Ocampa, Bolian, Rakhari, Kazon…" La Forge said. "And that’s just your ship."

"Right," Cavit said, still not quite following. "The galaxy is full of intelligent species—which is different from fluidic space, I take it?"

"It’s not just that," Dell said. "You… speak. And speaking isn’t truth."

Oh. Cavit blinked, finally understanding. He saw the same widening of the eyes in his husband, and even Ro’s expression shifted, though as always she didn’t give much away. 

"You can’t lie," Cavit said. "When you communicate telepathically, I mean."

"No," Sanders said. "But like this? Like you?" The man’s blue eyes flashed with something that could have been disgust. "We’re figuring it out." 

No matter what I say, they can’t trust it. Cavit looked at the four not-actually-men across the table. Sanders’s jaw was clenched, La Forge paused to take a sip of his wine, but the VISOR never lowered away from directing all his attention at them. Boothby continued to scowl, and Dell…

The man looked sad. 

"If you can’t accept our words," Cavit said. "How about our actions?"

Boothby frowned. "What do you mean?"

Ro glanced at him, as did Fitzgerald. It felt like the first time he met the Undine all over again—he’d had one card to play then, too: the nanoprobes. That had been an all-or-nothing gamble, but luckily the Ocampa had managed to realize the Undine didn’t truly understand them. 

Now, here he was again, with a locked and loaded series of warheads—and an ace in the hole—but realizing once again the Undine didn’t understand him.

He tapped his combadge. "Cavit to Bridge."

*

Chano regarded the unconscious forms of the two men—they weren’t actually Stephen Niles or Andreas Murphy, of course, but so far his theory was holding true: they’d transformed their biology to something human enough that his hypo was keeping them under. He’d bound their wrists and ankles for good measure, and tucked them out of sight of the door, and then sat down at the access console and considered his options.

The auxiliary control room was the first place that had broken the immersion of the recreation of San Francisco. He had little doubt there were backup operations centres at Starfleet Academy, but they weren’t attached to thirteen thermionic generators, controlling atmospheric processors, nor tied into a space station’s worth of tactical systems. 

Luckily, they were analog to Starfleet controls. He’d used his tricorder to interface, worked slowly and methodically and bypassed as much of the security features as he could without directly interfacing with the control panel, and then arranged the best series of protocols he could. While the results wouldn’t last long, he was confident he could shut down most of the terrasphere systems for anywhere between a minute to a few minutes—mostly by shunting the operation systems into diagnostic modes or causing a series of failures that would force systems to go offline while backups were engaged.

Most importantly, one of those systems was the shielding. The moment the shielding was down, Voyager would be able to beam himself, Reskat, Ahn, and Jeta off the recreation. 

Assuming no one noticed "Stephen" and "Andreas" were missing in the meanwhile.

No plan survives first contact with reality. He’d learned that on Vulcan during his infiltration specialization training, and had been told it was a Vulcan spin on an Earth saying. He’d always liked it, but it wasn’t providing as much comfort as usual, and Chano realized why.

Reskat’s up there somewhere. The knowledge had been at the back of his mind in a way that weighed more than the usual level of awareness when he was working as part of a team, and he was worried about Ahn and Jeta as well, but an inordinate amount of his thoughts were for Reskat.

So. Are we going to admit what that means, or are we going to pretend it’s not happening?

His combadge chirped, and he shifted into a flexible state of mind, ready to play whatever role he might need to play.

"Chano here," he said, voice even, giving nothing away. The voice of a "cadet" during a security alert. 

"Chano, this is the Captain—confirmation beta-four-seven." 

Chano gave the response to confirm it was him. "Delta-nine-one. Go ahead, captain."

"Chano, undo your back-door bypasses, system infiltration programs, and anything else you lined up for us. Restore full functionality of the terrasphere to Undine control."

Chano blinked. "Sir?"

"Someone has to make the first show of good faith, Crewman. It’s going to be us." 

Chano swallowed, allowed himself to flinch at the thought of Reskat (and Ahn and Jeta) up above, and eyed the two unconscious men. "Captain, in the spirit of good faith—I had to knock two guards unconscious. They’re okay, it was just a hypo, but… if someone is going to be dropping by after I undo my work, probably best if they know ahead of time." 

"They’ll know," Cavit said, after a brief pause. 

"I’ll get started right now," Chano said.

*

"You had someone else on our station?" Dell said.

"Two more people than you’re aware of, actually," Cavit said. Beside him, he imagined Ro and Fitzgerald were both doing their best to school their features as he gave away every tactical advantage he had, but he didn’t see another way forward. "I’ll contact the other person as well, tell him to stand down. He’s with Ahn and Jeta and your guards, under a personal cloak." 

"Personal cloak," La Forge raised his hands. "More gaps in your logs, more technology you keep classified?" 

"We met Reskat after you," Fitzgerald said. "His people have personal cloaking devices, not us." 

"It’s a nice gesture, Captain," Sanders said. "But you still have your torpedoes."

"Right," Cavit said, nodding, and tapped his combadge again. "Cavit to Main Engineering."

"Yes, Captain," Honigsberg’s reply came immediately.

"Alex, I’d like you and Seven to disarm the warheads." 

"Captain?" Seven’s voice joined the conversation, with a level of incredulity that wasn’t exactly lending itself to diplomacy, and unless he was mistaken, he saw Jeff’s lips twitch a little in a smile, probably because Seven had decided to insert herself. 

"I know, Seven—take them offline."

"On it, Captain," Honigsberg replied. 

Boothby stared at Cavit. 

One thing left. Cavit tapped his combadge. "Cavit to Bridge. Stadi, have the Chorus let Ahn and Jeta know I’d like Reskat to decloak and show himself, would you?" 

"Aye, Captain." 

He waited. Across the table, La Forge’s combadge chirped, and he tapped it.

"Voyager’s weapons are offline," a voice—creepily, another Alex Honigsberg—came over the channel. "One of their crew was in auxiliary control, but he’s turned himself in. It’s Chano. We can’t find our Chano." 

"They’re in our brig," Ro said. "Unharmed—though they reverted to their natural form. We’ll return them to you."

"The prisoners?" La Forge said.

"A third man appeared—we don’t have a record of him, but he surrendered." 

The four Undine looked across the table at Fitzgerald, Ro, and Cavit. 

"What next?" Boothby said, tense.

"That’s up to you," Cavit said. "What you decide. I’m starting to understand that you’ve never had to communicate in a fashion that didn’t involve complete honesty—that maybe you never even had a concept of deception until you came to vacuum space—and this is the only thing I can think to do. There’s a human saying, 'Actions speak louder than words.' I’d like to keep talking. I’d like to understand you better. I know you look at our logs and wonder how much of it is true, but I promise you, the core tenet of Starfleet is exploration. Our primary mission is meeting new species like the Undine. In friendship." Cavit leaned back. "What’s your mission?"

"He’s manipulating us," Sanders said.

"I don’t think so," Dell said.

"Wyatt," Sanders said.

"Our mission is to infiltrate your home world, to place operatives in the highest levels of Starfleet, monitor your military installations." Dell spoke quickly, but then, with a softness that reminded Cavit of the real Wyatt Dell, added, "It's a reconnaissance mission, nothing more."

Ro lifted her glass. "That’s a smart move. It’s what I’d suggest doing in your situation."

La Forge’s mouth opened—then closed. 

"You believe them," Boothby said, looking at Dell. 

"Anne and Jenny, they might have lied about who they were, but when I think about their questions?" Dell shook his head. "We’ve been training to think like humans, act like humans, but… what if we’ve been training to act the way we think humans act?" Dell lifted one shoulder. "What if we’re wrong?"

"If we risk trusting them and you’re wrong?" Sanders said. 

"If we don’t trust them, what happens then?" Dell said. "Another war?" 

Boothby exhaled, then turned to Ro. "You understand our position."

"I do," Ro said. "I come from a people who were invaded. And when we fought them off, Starfleet showed up and many of my people felt the same way you do: why should we trust outsiders when outsiders have only ever harmed us?"

Boothby regarded her for a long moment. "Go on."

Ro glanced at Cavit, but he nodded, wanting her to take the lead, realizing she was the perfect person in the moment to do so. "We need to start again," Ro said. "Try a second time. Meet as equals, not as two people trying to gain an advantage over the other." 

Boothby eyed Dell. "You believe in these people?"

"From the sounds of it, they could have taken the Terrasphere offline and taken their people back—and never told us they’d captured one of us. They didn’t do that." Dell nodded. "So, yes, I do believe them."

Boothby took a few seconds with that, then turned back to Cavit. "There would have to be a few ground rules."

"What would you like?" Cavit said. 

"First off, I want to take a look at that nanoprobe technology," Boothby said. "It scares the hell out of me."

Cavit considered the request, then nodded. "All right—though I’d like to know how you managed to copy our genetic sequences so perfectly, in return?"

For the first time, Boothby’s gaze reminded Cavit of the old man he’d once known at the Academy. Considerate. 

"I’m sure something can be arranged," Boothby said.

*

Captain's log, stardate 52136.4. The Undine are continuing talks. We’ve given them back our prisoner, and they’ve released Ahn, Jeta, Chano and Reskat. It’s a start. We’re still talking, and in an effort to strengthen what I’m hoping might be better than a détente this time around, we're giving them the nanoprobe weapon schematics, in return for more understanding of their own leaps in technology.

"Commander Ro and I will be beaming over with the first group," Cavit said, while Stadi walked with him through the corridor toward Transporter Room One. "I’m not expecting any trouble at this point."

"Aye Captain," Stadi said, then glanced up, her dark eyes softening with concern. Cavit followed her gaze. 

Seven of Nine approached, PADD in hand. "The design schematic for our nanoprobe weapons as requested," she said, and Cavit could hear the reluctance in her voice as she held it out. 

"Thank you," Cavit said. "This is something they’re very afraid of, Seven. It’s a big show of faith on our part." 

Seven of Nine took a breath. "Faith," she said, repeating the word. "I find the process… difficult."

"If it was easy, it wouldn’t be faith," Cavit said. 

Seven of Nine raised one eyebrow, regarding them both. "And if giving Species—" She paused. "the Undine this information proves tactically unsound?" 

"I suppose it could," Cavit said. "But it’s the way to get to peace, so it’s a risk worth taking." He glanced at Stadi. "When we’re back, why don’t the two of you head over to the Terrasphere—they’re willing to take us in groups."

Seven frowned. "Captain?"

Stadi, though nodded. "In a way, it’d be like seeing Earth, Seven."

Seven of Nine considered that, seemed to take another moment to process, and replied, simply, "Perhaps."

That, Cavit decided, was likely the best he’d get from her. He trusted Stadi to maybe turn perhaps into agreement, without overstepping or pushing Seven too far. 

"How did you know they wouldn’t attack the moment you disarmed the warheads?" Seven of Nine said.

Cavit blew out a little breath, just shy of a laugh. "Seven, I didn’t." 

She regarded him, then Stadi, then him again. "Faith."

"Faith," Cavit said.

She left them, and Stadi watched her go. 

"Well, it’s time to go figure out how to be friends with the Undine," Cavit said. "You’ve got everything in hand?"

"I do," Stadi said, turning back to him, but looking distracted.

"What?" he said.

"I know I shouldn’t talk about it, but…" Stadi shook her head. "Just now, Seven was thinking about how you allowed her a few moments to look at…" Stadi trailed off, and Cavit caught the inference. The Omega Molecule. Stadi nodded. "She’s got a better understanding of faith than she credits herself with." 

Cavit smiled. That, he realized, made facing down an entire space station of Undine feel perfectly doable. 

*

"Welcome to Terrasphere Eight, Starfleet Command re-creation," the Undine in the form of Admiral Bullock said. "I am Admiral Bullock and I’ll be acquainting you with our facility. Questions, comments, bring them to me. Problems? Talk to Lieutenant Kinis." He paused to eye a PADD. "Lieutenant Honigsberg?"

"Right here," Honigsberg said, stepping forward. 

"You wanted to examine our thermionic generators?" 

"I did," Honigsberg said. 

"Reese will take you there."

Honigsberg nearly choked when he turned and saw the man approaching. Broad shoulders, hair cut so short it barely counted, and stubble on his chin. 

That’s not Patrick Reese. It’s not. 

"This way," not-Reese said, in a deep rumbling voice that was playing hell with Honigsberg’s ability to concentrate. 

By the time they were in a turbolift, he’d managed to somewhat put himself back into some semblance of composure, but his first glance at "Reese" threatened to knock him right back into chaos when he caught the man’s eyes—copper brown, ringed with something closer to green—staring at him directly.

"The identity I was given," he said. "You and he were sexually involved?"

Honigsberg considered phasering himself on heavy stun, but instead managed to croak out, "That’s right."

"And your logs indicate love for him."

Oh, this was fun. "You read those, eh?" When would the turbolift arrive?

"I confess I’m still struggling with the concepts."

"Struggling with love?" Honigsberg said.

"And sex." Reese crossed his arms, which did amazing things to how the man’s uniform fit across his chest, just like the real Reese. 

"Yeah, if you’re looking for answers about those, I’m afraid you’re going to find me woefully underqualified," Honigsberg said.

Reese nodded. The turbolift doors opened, and Honigsberg did his best not to flee. 

"Perhaps after I explain the generators," the man who looked exactly like Patrick Reese said, "We can discuss it."

"Great," Honigsberg said hollowly.

*

Ro strolled alongside Geordi La Forge down a main street of San Francisco and it felt almost real. 

"One question I do have," she said, facing the Undine disguised as one of the few people she could claim a real friendship with. "How did you get this far? We only crossed this distance because of the Ocampa—but the last place we saw the Undine was more than ten thousand light years behind us."

"Ah," La Forge said, nodding. "Well, our first scouting vessels back into vacuum space encountered a vessel from a world that had been assimilated by the Borg. Our genetic camouflage process wasn’t perfect, but they didn’t know you or your people, so we were able to covertly scan their technology. They used something called a quantum slipstream drive."

Ro stopped walking, turning to face La Forge. "The Swei," she said. 

"That’s right—I didn’t realize you knew them." La Forge frowned beneath the recreated VISOR. "What is it?"

"Does that mean you have quantum slipstream technology?"

La Forge nodded. "We do, though it uses a crystal we can’t recreate. We had to use our most powerful detection technology to locate the quantities we needed—that’s one of the reasons we built the eighth terrasphere here."

"Benamite crystals," Ro said.

"Yes," La Forge said. "There’s some in a somewhat nearby system—our slipstream capable vessel only made it this far, so we built the eighth terrasphere here, and the plan was to eventually go there, mine the benamite and…" He drifted off. "What is it?"

"Could you tell us where it is?" Ro said. "Would you allow us to try and use the crystal ourselves, to get home?"

La Forge didn’t reply right away, but then he nodded slowly. "I can certainly ask. I know we’re not  returning the terrasphere to fluidic space for another few days—but when we do…"

"Thank you," Ro said. 

La Forge nodded. 

*

Cavit looked around the gardens, smiling. "I know this isn’t the real Earth, but it’s wonderful to be here," Cavit said. 

Beside him, Boothby gave him a long look. "You really are a long way from home, aren’t you?" 

"We are."

"I’m not sure that’s a concept I’d have understood even a year ago," Boothby said. "But I’m starting to." 

"I can’t imagine how hard it’s been for your people," Cavit said. "Honestly, the sheer flexibility you’ve had to examine your entire world-view—your understanding of the universe—it’s beyond impressive." He smiled, then allowed himself a measure of the worry he was feeling. "The other terraspheres, the rest of the Undine—what are the chances they'll listen to you?"

"I can't promise you the moon, Captain. My superiors aren't as forward thinking. Peace with humans? Bajorans? Ocampa?" Boothby chuckled. "Wow. They're going to hit the roof. But I'll tell them what happened here today, and with a pinch of luck a few of them might see the light."

Cavit exhaled. "Well, if you need anything more from us, you know how to contact us, right?"

"We do. But it would be best to let us call you."

Cavit nodded. "Understood." He looked around once more, and took a deep breath. "Well. I should get back. Let some of the rest of the crew have a chance to enjoy this slice of home."

Boothby nodded. "Until next time, Captain." 

Cavit liked the sound of that.

*

Jeta walked hand-in-hand with Doug Bronowski, alongside the Undine she knew as Wyatt Dell. He kept eyeing them with strange little smiles, until finally she couldn’t help asking.

"What is it?" she said.

"I’m just fascinated by how comfortable you two seem to be with each other—but you’re not talking."

"I’m not very good at talking," Bronowski said, and it was such a perfect Doug thing to say, Jeta thought. She squeezed his hand.

"But you’re not telepathic," Dell said.

"No," Bronowski said. 

"Sometimes it’s nice to just be quiet with someone," Jeta said. "Like how we’ve been walking. It’s enough to be in someone’s company. That can be a kind of communication, too."

Dell chuckled. "It’s been quite a learning experience, being human."

Jeta eyed him. "Looking forward to being Undine again?"

"I am," Dell said, then eyed them both. "No offence." 

"None taken," Bronowski said.

"I prefer being myself, too," Jeta said, tracing her Ocampa ears with one hand. "But for what it’s worth, I think you were better at being human than you think."

Dell laughed. 

"It is here," Bronowski said, as they turned a corner.

Jeta looked ahead. A small flower shop stood two buildings in on the street Doug had led them to. 

"Everything in there will be genetically synthesized," Dell said. "But as close to perfect as we could make it." 

"I am going to buy you a rose," Bronowski said to Jeta. 

"Let me treat you both," Dell said, and Doug flushed from his neck up to his ears, glanced at Jeta, and then managed a fairly polite nod. Jeta smiled at the two men, deciding now wasn’t perhaps the time to educate the Undine on the language of flowers.