1-15 Homeless

The Colonel is given charge of the Knights of Cathor, to train them as security. Captain Janeway’s psychological complication takes a turn for the worse, it puts an Away Team in danger when Voyager goes to the rescue of a ship in distress...

Voyager and characters (except the Colonel) in this story are copyright of Paramount. No resemblance is intended to any person alive or dead.

The story line additional characters and the Colonel are my own.

Constructive criticism and comments are welcome on e-mail story@rgower.plus.com.

If like me you like to know why things occur like they do, I would heartily recommend you start at chapter 1-01 Castaway.

This story is rated 15 on the UK sensors ratings

©R Gower 2000

Captain Janeway broke with her own tradition of a solitary breakfast and had breakfast in the mess, choosing a table in the middle of the hall to signify her openness to approach from the crew. She wasn't sure as to what to expect, she had appreciated the Colonel's and Chakotay's attempt to keep her seeming breakdown as quiet as possible, but also realised that in a small vessel like Voyager rumours would spread very quickly, so there was almost certainly something on the ships grape vine about her 'mystery illness'.

She was pleasantly surprised when three crewmen approached her and expressed a level of happiness at her recovery. Obviously rumour wasn't what it was, she thought mildly. But the greatest boost to her own morale was when Niaomi Wildman approached her.

"Excuse me, Captain?" She enquired politely. "But I have something for you," she handed the surprised Captain an envelope.

With some trepidation she took it from the girls hand and opened it, to reveal a picture card. The picture seemed to depict in a child's abstract way the ship flying through space with small stars twinkling in the background.

"My, you're quite an artist!" The Captain smiled.

"There's writing inside it!" The girl informed her. "I had to replicate a pen and everything," she added proudly.

She opened it pensively to find a 'Get Well Soon' message written in the large and spidery hand of someone who was struggling to use a pen for the first time.

"I smell the Colonel in this. It must have taken you a lot of time?" She laughed.

"The Colonel gave me one when I had Space Flu," Niaomi informed her. "He told me it was a special card that would help me get better. I thought it might help you too!"

The Captain laughed freely, it felt like the first time in months she had done so. "Thank you," she said. "It certainly does seem to work," she confessed.

Niaomi giggled with her. "I'm glad you like it," she announced and flounced off again.

The Captains next visitor was the Colonel and Seven of Nine. She looked up a little nervously as he slammed to his usual salute. "Permission to join you for a few minutes, Ma'am?"

"You’re late for breakfast this morning, you haven't been doing anything I would disapprove of?" She joked, hiding her trepidation.

"Ma'am?" He queried in seeming shock at the thought that he should ever do such a thing.

"You tasked me with clearing the mess in the shuttle. It took a little longer than I predicted to complete the job," he explained mildly.

"You weren't that ill, how long could it take?" She queried.

"Three nights so far, Ma'am! But it is almost finished."

"What did you do? Repaint it?" She asked in shock.

"Yes, Ma'am. Among other things," He responded flatly.

"Why? Never mind, how did dinner go last night? I am still hoping for some good news."

"It was a simple dinner date. We ate, then walked on a beach," Seven informed her impassively.

"Hand in hand?" The Captain enquired impishly.

"Our arms were around each others waists, holding hands in that position is not practical," Seven responded innocently.

The innocent way Seven made her statement had the Captain descending into fits of giggles. She struggled to control them, under the contradicting influences of an uncomprehending stare of Seven of Nine and the light blush that was blooming on the Colonel's face.

"I'm sorry," she said at last, wiping her eye's with a napkin. "But I'm glad the Colonel hasn't made you entirely like him," she gasped.

"Is this anything to do with you?" She asked, finally regaining her senses again and pushing Niaomi's Get Well card towards the Colonel.

"I gave her a card when she had the flu'," he admitted. "She seemed to be under the weather and the Doctor's potions, I thought it might cheer her up a little."

"Another Twentieth Century remedy?"

"It's claimed happiness goes a long way to good health, Ma'am. It is a good way to make little girls and their mothers happy."

"It works on ships captains too!" She claimed. "I've never had one before!"

"As I said, Ma'am. Little girls and their mothers. You're the surrogate mother to everybody aboard your ship," he commented with a smile.

"Is that how you felt about your men?" She asked in sudden fascination.

"Yes, Ma'am. For the time they are with you, you are responsible for the way they live their lives and their safety. You live for them, worry for them, try to protect them and share their joys, successes and failures. If that doesn't make you a parent, I really don't know what does," he responded gently.

She stared at him incredulously. The parallel had never occurred to her before, but as he had explained his opinion it was very plausible.

"Okay so I'm now the mother of 158 people and accept it. Am I cured Doctor Samuels?" She asked cheerfully.

He looked at her hard. "No, Ma'am!" He answered her honestly.

Seeing her eye's open in surprise, he immediately explained his verdict. "The ship was getting into a situation where people were getting hurt, to use the parental analogy, your mothering instincts came into play. I would expect nothing else from you. If you’re like this after a fortnight of nothing happening, then I would be more positive."

"And I was feeling so buoyant too!" She sighed in mock despair. "Couldn't you have lied for once, after all you could be wrong!"

"With your permission, Ma'am. I'd rather not lie unless it is essential, then it will seem more like the truth. As for being wrong, that is possible and I have been wrong in the past, so I offer a fortnight as a good 'Sit on the Fence' type answer."

He smiled suddenly as he caught sight of Tom Paris looking nervously in their direction. "I think if you want some good news, then a good person to talk to about now would be Lieutenant Paris. I believe he may have a question for you to answer. With your permission, Ma'am. I'd better go and finish up with the shuttle, then find something for the knights to do."

She nodded her acceptance and watched him stand and bow to her then tenderly kiss Seven on the cheek. As he moved away she was, as the Colonel had predicted, joined by Tom Paris.

"Permission to come and see you later on please, Captain?" He asked nervously.

"Certainly! Come and see me in my Ready Room this afternoon," she responded. "What about?" Her curiosity getting the better of her.

"I'd rather not say in public!" he advised her intriguingly, getting up to return to his table.

The Captain returned her attention to Seven of Nine, who had continued to sit at her table impassively watching the proceedings.

"Have you ever had the feeling there is a lot more going on around you that you ought to know about?" She asked mildly.

"Captain?" The ex-Borg queried.

"Never mind, and I'm sorry about spoiling your date last night, but I really didn't expect him to take the extra duty so seriously!" She confided. "He must have started right after your date?"

"He claimed he had a punishment detail to perform in a shuttle," Seven admitted. "I was unaware of it's nature or the reasoning for it."

"He took a shuttle and went for an unauthorised space walk," she explained. "He was ill from the experience, getting him to clean up afterwards seemed fitting."

"The shuttle is clean," Seven admitted stiffly. "However I will talk to him regarding extra-vehicular activities, he should be made aware of the dangers."

The Captain smiled, their respective roles with regard to the Colonel seemed to have been reversed. She was now protecting the Colonel from punishment, not Seven. "I wouldn't," she counselled. "As you've stated in the past, he is very adaptable. The less he knows about things, the better he seems to adapt."

"Have you ever thought of making your relationship more official and permanent?" She asked mildly, shifting the topic.

"Captain?" Seven of Nine's ever questioning eyebrow sliding up in puzzlement.

"Creating your own personal collective with Alan?" The Captain persisted.

"You are referring to the act of marriage? I have considered it, but I am uncertain if the Colonel is prepared for that level of commitment, or the purpose of the act."

The Captain kept a straight face, just and with much effort. "I think you should consider it much more deeply," she advised, trying to keep her voice serious. "I don't know of anybody as committed as the Colonel and he would be a lot more responsive! I know he still isn’t as responsive as you would like him to be," she teased.

"I shall consider your statement," Seven responded impassively.

The Captain looked at her half eaten and now cold breakfast. "Well as a meal it wasn't the most nutritious thing I've tried to eat," she commented. "But it has been interesting. What is your agenda today?"

"I have been requested to define a course for the Cathorian home world," Seven affirmed placidly.

"I'll see you at the staff meeting then, enjoy yourself." She announced, rose and left the Mess, secretly toying with the notion of which of the two would actually come to their senses and propose first and if the others pride would allow them to accept.

B'Elanna Torres stumbled onto the Colonel's activities in the shuttle bay whilst searching for a spare manifold for a power relay.

"What have you done!" She exclaimed in shock, as she took in the now gleaming shuttle that now faced her.

"The Captains orders were specific," he responded flatly. "Clean the shuttle."

"I know that," Torres laughed. "But she said clean, not polish. It hurts the eyes and they don't come out the assembly shop like that!"

"I wasn't aware there was a difference?" He questioned defensively.

She looked at him with an amused and questioning gaze and he relented a little.

"Well perhaps there is," he admitted. "But it is difficult to overcome thirty years of indoctrination as easily as that."

"I don't understand?"

"When I joined the army my training platoon was controlled by three NCO's," he started. "Corporal 'See no Evil', Corporal 'Think no Evil' and Sergeant 'I am Evil'. All specially trained to be sadists, or at least it seemed that way at the time. Their goal was to make us into perfect soldiers in the hardest, meanest and quickest way possible and they were impossible to please, I'll give you an example shall I?" He smiled fondly at the memories.

"Go on!" Torres prompted in fascination, this looked as though it could be an entertaining story from the Colonel's past, for once.

He carefully sat himself on a container and complied to her prompting. "Twenty of us were billeted in a wooden nissen hut during basic training, a building a little smaller than the Mess. As you can imagine it was quite cramped. Just as well really, the pot bellied stove didn't work properly and it was the middle of a cold winter," he drily set the scene for her.

"Anyhow we were given punishment duty, I can't remember what it was for, possibly walking on the parade ground or some similar heinous crime."

"You may giggle Lieutenant, but it was a serious crime then to be caught not marching. Only slightly less serious than walking on the grass outside the RSM's office," he chided the giggling Lieutenant.

"The task we were given was simple, clean the billet, top to bottom after normal duty. Sounds easy doesn't it? Just waft a broom and mop around?" He queried.

She nodded in amusement.

"Well it wasn't! Another hut had a similar punishment the week before, and they were nailed for everything, dust on the window pelmets, sheets not folded square, stove not black leaded, I mean everything," He answered for her, ignoring the disbelief forming on her face.

"So we set to it. We worked solidly and all night ready for the inspection at six o'clock the following morning. We polished the floor, black leaded the stove, got all the sheets and blankets folded to exactly regulation size, ironed uniforms for razor creases, blanco'd webbing, everything except the coal scuttle. We remembered to polish it alright, but forgot to keep the level right." He smiled whimsically.

"As you can imagine it was what Sergeant Evil picked on the following morning. The bastard knocked the surplus coal onto the floor, ground it in, then complained we hadn't scrubbed the floor properly, as well as having too much coal in the bucket. We had to do it all again the following night," he laughed as he had finished.

"Tell me you just made it up?" Torres pleaded amidst her giggles.

"It's absolutely true!" The Colonel protested. "We did get our own back, sort of, though. One of the lads found a several large blocks of bees wax in the stores and we polished the floor with that. The following morning the whole Evil gang marched in to inspect with white gloves and magnifying glasses, they went arse over tit on the waxed floor." He laughed

"It was a short lived victory mind, the Lieutenant and Captain went over as well. We spent the following two nights sanding the floor off again and three weeks as runners for the guardroom."

Torres doubled over in glee at the story. "I still don't believe it!" She gurgled.

"It taught me several things," the Colonel continued. "Look for details and whilst you can fight authority and even have the occasional victory, you can't actually beat it."

"But we aren't anything like that now!" She gasped, trying to gather her wits again.

"I know, but I went through more than thirty years in that sort of culture! Water the flowers in the rain, paint the grass green and roads black, I've seen it, done it and even ordered it done occasionally," he commented quietly.

"Enough reminiscing. Can I help you with anything?" He asked.

"I was after a manifold," she admitted. "It's in that corner. If you've finished with your shuttle could you help me take it back to Engineering?"

"Certainly, Ma'am," he agreed, picking up the heavy unit she had pointed to and moving to the door.

"What route are you recommending, to take us to Cathoria?" Captain Janeway demanded in the staff conference.

"I have defined a route with the co-operation of Miss Seven of Nine," Gwyndal offered, nodding to Seven who activated a wall screen to display the proposed route. "It will require about seven months at Voyagers cruising velocity."

"It's very circuitous!" Tom Paris remarked. "Why not go straight through, it would only take a month?"

"The intervening area is controlled by a race called the 'Felongra'. They are not necessarily hostile, but are bureaucratic, unfriendly, militaristic and expansionist," Gwyndal explained. "Passing through their space would create much delay, they will certainly demand to inspect your vessel and crew at numerous points. They have also been known to object to ships carrying weapons, crews fraternising with people from their colonised worlds and anything else considered natural."

"Seven, your assessment?" The Captain urged.

"Felongra, species 3627, feline, generally hostile," she recited. "Females are effective tactical drones, males are physically strong and are used for construction. A number of other races are included in their Empire. Most have been overwhelmed. They have limited warp capability, but highly efficient weaponry. If caught in combat we would be in danger. Borg ships have been destroyed by Tigron vessels, usually through Felongra deploying large numbers of small heavily armed vessels."

"In that case I think we will take your advice Gwyndal," the Captain put in quickly. "This route will avoid them detecting us?"

"It should do Captain Janeway," he affirmed.

"Despite what it may look like, this vessel is not a passenger ship, so we will need to find duties for you whilst enroute. I understand you have declared service to the ship under the Colonel?"

"Yes, Captain Janeway," Gwyndal affirmed. "We have taken him as our First Knight."

"I can see he is happy about that idea," she smiled, as she spotted the Colonel's grimace. "We have discussed the concept of improving onboard ships security before. I think you now have a company of soldiers Colonel. You and Tuvok will arrange suitable training so that they settle down. Harry can look after the Dog Watch."

"I assume you've finished cleaning the shuttle?" She finished tauntingly.

"Ma'am. Lieutenant Torres inspected it an hour ago," he affirmed.

"B'Elanna?" The Captain queried impatiently.

"Oh! Yes. It's clean, Captain! Believe me," B'Elanna enthused, spluttering and struggling to hide the laughter that was forming inside her again. "You should see it, nobody will recognise it!" She finished, giving in to a guffaw of mirth.

Captain Janeway looked at her sharply, in a mixture of surprise and bewilderment at the response from the normally sober Engineer. "Explain?" She demanded.

"I can't Captain," she sobbed in laughter. "You need to see it!"

"Very well I'll go and look later," she responded tartly.

“Is there anything else I should be made aware of?” She demanded. “Otherwise meeting dismissed.”

Tom Paris remained after the others had left, hoping to have his private word. She sighed in resignation. “What’s gotten into B’Elanna?” She demanded. “I’ve never seen her so..” She sought for the right word. “So easily amused!” She finished weakly. “Is that what you want to talk to me about?”

“I don’t think so Captain!” He confessed in bemusement.

“Then what do you want to talk about?” She demanded. “The Colonel suggested that you have some good news, is that the case?”

“I’d like permission to ask B’Elanna to marry me?” He stammered quickly.

She stared hard at him for what seemed minutes. Finally she asked, “What does B’Elanna have to say about it?”

“I haven’t asked her yet,” he confessed, his face reddening. “But the Colonel suggested it would be better to get your agreement in principle first, on the grounds we aren’t a perfect match,” he explained hurriedly.

“On the contrary, I think you will make a good match,” the Captain assured him. “Probably as good as the other one I’ve been asked for judgement on recently, certainly more exciting. But are you sure you are up to it?”

“I hope so, Ma’am!” Paris stuttered. “I’m making an engagement ring and everything!”

“An engagement ring!” She exclaimed. “Marriage is more than a worthless ring!”

“I know!” He assured her. “But I thought it would serve as a promise, I’m hoping to finish it in the next couple of days. I know I’ll have to work at being a good husband.”

She settled herself again and smiled. “The Colonel has an effect on everything on the ship doesn’t he?” She commented. “You have my permission to ask her, but I want to talk to you both before I decide to let you marry. In the mean time you might as well come and see what the Colonel has done to the shuttle?” She offered.

Tom Paris smiled in relief at the Captains agreement. “Thank you, Ma’am,” he sighed appreciatively.

Chakotay took Harry Kim aside as they left the meeting.

"Have you sat in on the Colonel's Dog Watch?" He asked in concern.

Kim shook his head in the negative.

Chakotay smiled grimly. "It could either be the easiest watch you'll ever command, or the hardest of your life!" He warned.

"The Colonel's attitude to command is different to the Captain's, perhaps more like the Maqui. He requires his staff to react to routine events without command, but always be ready for something different to come from the Commander. You will always know what's going on, but you will have to be quick, if you want to do something different" he explained

"My advice is watch them work on a scenario and see how they work as a team, it is invariably an interesting experience. Don't let them go too far from standard Star Fleet response, don’t try and be the Colonel, nobody can. And make sure your uniform is perfect, because theirs will be and you’ll have to inspect them," he finished.

"Aye Commander," Kim responded with not a little trepidation.

The Colonel glared at his new recruits in silence, weighing them up carefully. “Well you volunteered to come under my command,” he told them quietly. “Now you will learn the folly of being so ready to jump into something you don’t know about.”

“I am going to train you to the standard required to be a Royal Marine. From now on you are not knights but marines. Your soul purpose in life is the protection of this ship and it’s crew. I am going to teach you to survive and you are going to learn well and quickly.”

“I will be gentle today, we’ll start with a little exercise to get you warmed up,” he announced, producing a whistle from his pocket. “On the first blast of the whistle you will commence jogging around the parade ground, so kindly produced by Commander Tuvok,” he benevolently indicated the Commander stood beside him. “On the second you will charge screaming at the top of your voice until I blow it for the third time. You will throw yourselves to the ground, without a sound. At the next blast you will start jogging again and so on. We shall keep it up until either I get bored or one of you dies from a heart attack,” he threatened.

He blew his whistle and the knights cum marine recruits started to jog gently around the compound. He blew again and they broke into a run, trying to shout as he had demanded.

“I can’t hear you!” He screamed at them. “You’re marines not bloody monk’s, I said scream!”

“YEARRRGH!” He demonstrated in a knights ear, terrifying him into an improved response.

He blew again and they slumped to the ground.

“I said throw yourselves to the ground!” He shouted at them again. “Put some bloody effort into it!”

Again he blew and the knights struggled to their feet and started again.

He kept them working at his exercises for a good thirty minutes, bellowing crude encouragement at them until they were clearly past the point of exhaustion.

“Anybody want to go home yet?” He enquired brightly.

“Tough you’re in the army now!” He dashed any hopes they may have had by bringing them to attention then forcing them through a rapid set of shouted commands to face left, right, front and rear.

He descended on a knight with glee when he got confused and turned the wrong way. “You horrible little man!” He screamed at the unfortunate individual. “Don’t know you left from right now! I’ll help you!” Then proceeded to forcibly turn the man left and right as he continued his shouted his commands.

Finally he relented and brought them to attention. “Tomorrow we will begin the hard work,” he threatened. “We can start to teach you to fight. After that how to think whilst doing it!”

“There is a security detail outside, they will escort you to your new billets on deck thirteen. You have one hour to move in then return here and learn to march. Just remember you are now Marines the second best fighting force in the Galaxy. You will behave as such, with honour and discipline. Dismissed.”

“Your methods are brutal!” Tuvok complained, as the knights left the holodeck.

“Are they?” The Colonel queried sternly, then softened again as he saw the Commanders troubled look.

“Look,” he explained. “If they have to fight, there is a good chance that whoever they fight have never heard of the Geneva Convention or whatever rules you use now and we will be outnumbered. They have to be prepared to fight in and under any conditions they meet and accept it. No matter how harsh it seems now the enemy is going to do worse. I won’t keep this up for long, but I need to find if they have the stamina and the fight to keep up, perhaps one will even have the balls to challenge their treatment?”

Tuvok grunted. “Who are the best troops in the Galaxy?” He queried.

The Colonel’s face broke into a grin. “Why, the 60^th Rifles of course!” He claimed proudly. “May I take you for a mug of tea?”

“What has he done to it!” The Captain exclaimed in shock, grabbing at the Shuttle Bay console for support.

She had come, as promised, to have a look at the shuttle that had caused B’Elanna so much amusement. On the way she had collected B’Elanna, so that she could explain her merriment and they with Tom Paris were now gazing in wonder at the sparkling apparition in front of them.

“Colonel to the Shuttle Bay!” She demanded on her intercom, approaching the sparkling shuttle with some caution, fearing to touch it in case it left a mark.

Tom Paris, less concerned of the aesthetics, entered cautiously to examine the inside.

“You told him to clean it,” B’Elanna giggled. “It’s just that he took the order at face value and cleaned it like he would under his rules.”

“There isn’t a mark anywhere,” Paris announced from inside the shuttle. “Even the control panel looks as though it’s never been touched!”

“But a shuttle can’t stay in that state!” She protested. “It will be as dirty as it was before after the first use!”

“I don’t think it matters, it’s the principle,” B’Elanna commented, then proceeded to recount the story that Colonel had told her. The extremes elicited the same responses from the Captain as they had done from her chief engineer, ranging from shock, through disbelief, into giggles of amusement.

“Colonel Samuels reporting, Ma’am?” The Colonel’s dry voice brought them to their senses again.

“I only meant clean your mess up!” The Captain protested, fighting her mirth and trying to sound serious.

“Maybe Ma’am. But your order was not that explicit,” the Colonel pointed out.

“No wonder it took so long! What did you use?” She gasped.

“I found suitable cleaning materials in the cargo bays, Ma’am. But I did have to use emery paper on the engine ports to remove the crud,” he admitted defensively.

“You cleaned inside the engines as well!” She exclaimed. “Is there anywhere you missed?”

“Not that I’m aware of, Ma’am.”

“Is this your bee’s wax again?” If it is I’ll have B’Elanna strip the shuttle to find the dirt you missed and have you do it again!” She threatened with a smile.

“Ma’am?” The reply was impassive but questioning.

“B’Elanna, find something?” She demanded. “Are you intending to put the Cathors through this?”

“If that is what it takes to make them good soldiers, yes Ma’am.”

She sighed wistfully. “I always thought it was a hard life at the Academy, doing as you’re told. But we never had anything like this. I’m beginning to regret asking you to turn them into security personnel,” she claimed.

Her foreboding's were amplified an hour later when Tuvok returned to take up his station at Tactical.

“How’s it going down there?” She enquired lightly.

“He is currently attempting to teach them to march like he does,” Tuvok announced blandly. “I see little value in the exercise, or his approach. It appears to be aimed at making them hostile to him.”

“Grim is it?” She enquired further, a smile playing on her lips.

“Indeed Captain,” he agreed impassively.

“He is teaching them the way he was trained,” the Captain commented drily.

“If you want some idea how hard that was go and have a look at the shuttle. He has cleaned that the way he was required to perform a punishment detail. It looks pointless but perhaps there is a purpose in the madness. It made him what he is,” she counselled. “Keep an eye on things and prevent him getting out of control.”

“He has requested that they are tested on operational aspects of the ship. Do you wish them to be so trained?” Tuvok asked.

“I see no harm in it, they are now members of the crew,” she commented, settling back in her seat for the long shift ahead. “At least he recognises there is more than simple fighting to be done.”

The Colonel finally called time on his training activities at 20:00. “I’ve seen worse,” he grudgingly complimented them. “But you have a long way to go. Reveille will be at 06:00, be prepared for hard physical drill.”

Behind him the Captain entered the holodeck to watch his progress.

“Platoon, ‘Shun!” He snapped, the knights came to a fair semblance of his straight stance.

“Platoon, Dismiss!” He finished. They saluted and performed a crisp quarter turn to their right, breaking ranks and heading for the door. Only Gwyndal remained.

“Why are you treating us like this?” He demanded.

The Colonel glared at him. “I have not heard you request permission to speak, Marine!” He snapped. “I’ll let it go this time, but not the next time.”

“The answers to your impudent question are, you volunteered to follow my commands. I want to find out how well you follow them. And I want you to be an efficient fighting force, not knights or security guards, but real soldiers. That way you might live long enough to be old soldiers. Good night Marine Gwyndal,” he dismissed him, finally turning to the Captain and snapping a salute to her.

“Captain, Ma’am!” He snapped.

“Is there anything else you’re looking for from them?” She enquired quietly.

“A bit of fire to be honest, Ma’am,” he confessed. “I think Gwyndal may have it, but the others seem as docile as cattle. Still it’s early days,” he brightened.

“Not driving them too hard are you?” She probed. “After all they are capable of fighting and this isn’t the British Army! The only thing you seem to be achieving in them is a desire to kill you!”

He laughed. “If they achieve it then good luck to them, but I hope they learn how to kill before they do, then they won’t want or need to.”

Returning to his quarters he found Seven of Nine engrossed in her work at the back of the room. The first thing he noticed was that she was, by the ex-Borg's standards, dressed unusually. Her habitual skin tight bodysuit had been replaced by a calf length silk dress, it glinted green and grey as she worked. Her hair had been freed of it's characteristic bun and hung to her shoulders in a cascade of gold, caught by a grey hair clip.

He stood for a moment stunned by the change of appearance, then finally approached. "Miss Nine. You are looking more beautiful than usual!" he began. "I can only assume that you have an important rendezvous with somebody special, I do hope he's worth it?"

She turned, the dress flickering it's metallic sheens at him as she did so. "Beauty is irrelevant. However I believe that this form of preparation is considered important for a good impression," she claimed dispassionately.

"He must be very important to you then!" The Colonel claimed earnestly. "I'll change quickly and disappear to the Mess for dinner and let you get on with it! May I enquire who my rival is for your affections?"

"You have no objection?" She queried, an eyebrow raising in mock surprise, toying with him.

"Of course not, how could I?" He answered, a tinge of sadness showing in his voice. "You are a young and beautiful woman and I have nothing to keep you with or for!"

"The target for my 'rendezvous' is with Alan Samuels. I consulted Neelix for a suitable romantic meal and it was to be a surprise," She finally admitted, with the sly smile she had been developing over the last few months. "Your concerns are inappropriate."

He smiled broadly and put an arm around her waist, then tapped her on the nose with a finger before kissing it gently. "You enjoy teasing me don't you?" He asked quietly.

"You respond quickly and predictably," she agreed.

"I suppose I do," he admitted wistfully. "But I still can't get used to the simple fact that the most beautiful and intelligent woman on the ship, appears to have the hots for me. I can assure you that you don't need to get dressed up for me though. I love you without the fuss."

"Now what were you planning to spring on me?" He asked lightly.

She turned back to the work top she had been peering over when he had entered. "Neelix supplied these ingredients," she announced pointing at the provisions. "I am unsure as to how to prepare them, it has proved more difficult than anticipated."

He closed up behind her and peered over her shoulder. "You know, there are many things I will always attribute to you," he whispered in her ear, kissing it gently, she shuddered luxuriantly at the touch.

"Intelligence, beauty, even a little naiveté! But I don't see cooking as ever being on the list!".

"Still, let's see what we have, then perhaps you'll let me help you?"

"Acceptable," she agreed, leaning back a little to rest on his chest.

"Most of it looks like fish, some rice and salad type veg. I think we can manage something like Su-Shi from this," he commented, still looking over her shoulder arms around her waist.

"If you cut up some of those red sausage things," he indicated a vegetable similar to a cucumber, but deep red in colour. "Into blocks about an inch long and scoop out the inside to make a sleeve. We can mix the inside with some of the flaked fish, crab and rice, shove it back inside and serve with spicey sauces."

Quickly he started to demonstrate, as Seven pressed more firmly back against him. "Tease!" he whispered in her ear again, as he felt himself respond to the rhythmic rocking of their bodies. "I'd better find some sauce, before dinner, romantic or otherwise, becomes immaterial!"

He kissed her on the neck and moved towards the replicator.

On the Bridge Ensign Kim took his place in the Captains chair, armed with only Chakotay's timely advice that morning and a rapid review of the watch log. The ship’s ‘scuttle butt’ would have him believe that the Colonel was a hard task master compared to the Captain. The rumour seemed to have some point of truth as the watch gathered on the Bridge and stood smartly at alert, waiting for him to inspect their turn out. Not since the Academy had he witnessed such an event, but he dutifully inspected them and found, as Chakotay had prophesied, nothing amiss however minute, he wished he had put as much time as had been recommended into his own preparation.

He quickly found how true Chakotay’s other warnings had been, as Kala warned of an encroaching meteor shower and without a word of command they reacted to the impending threat. The whole action of reinforcing shields and bringing Voyager around to face the threat had taken less than fifteen seconds, from Ensign Kala detecting the shower to Crewman Winston altering course. They had commentated their actions as they were working, ready for any alternative command that might be given, but it had been unnerving to say the least.

From his chair he reviewed a number of scenarios that the Colonel had pre-prepared, but decided against testing any on the first night, resolving to test them privately before hand. He reflected on Chakotay's quiet advice to watch the activities of the Watch, before trying to command it. Advice he decided to heed.

His reverie was short lived as Ensign Kala piped up a warning. “Mayday being received. Vessel under attack by pirates. Bearing 80.45, range 15 million klicks, Sir!” She snapped from her station.

It was immediately followed by Ensign Carver. “Vessel detected, Sir! Three smaller vessels appear to be in close proximity. There is an asteroid belt between us and the vessel, we are unlikely to be detected.”

“Possible courses computed and laid awaiting instruction, Sir!” Crewman Winston immediately after.

“Power systems and weapons status show nominal, Sir!”

Suddenly he realised they were waiting for his command. He swallowed hard, wondering what he could do, he had to do something authoritative. “Sound yellow alert, bring weapons and shields on-line. Alert the Captain!” He croaked, the delay had seemed intolerable compared to their rapid preparations.

“Report!” Snapped the Captain tumbling onto the Bridge a few minutes later.

Quickly Kim briefed her on what had been reported.

“How quickly can we get to them?” She demanded.

“Approximately four hours, Ma’am,” reported Winston from the pilots station. “We would have to either circumnavigate or pass through an asteroid belt.”

“Too long,” She protested. “This is the Think Tank, other options?”

“We could send the Flyer and the Valorian fighter, it’s still in the shuttle bay,” suggested Carver. “They could pass through the Asteroids and could frighten the attackers, if piloted aggressively enough!”

She nodded. “Bring us to full battle readiness. Set quickest course,” she demanded sitting back in her seat and watched as the watch set out to put her orders in action.

Down in their quarters the Colonel and Seven of Nine had settled down to their late dinner and he was demonstrating the use of chopsticks to the cynical blonde.

“Just think of them as tweezers,” he suggested helpfully, expertly picking up one of their ‘Su-Shi’ morsels dabbing it in the sweet sauce he had prepared and offering it to her mouth encouragingly.

“They are clumsy and inefficient,” she complained, before opening her mouth to allow him to drop the delicacy in.

“The Chinks say the same about knifes and forks,” he assured her, selecting one for himself.

“Direct assimilation of nutrients is more efficient,” she declared.

“That is also true,” he admitted. “But not nearly as much fun or as intimate.” He offered her another block.

“Is there a purpose behind this level of preparation?” He queried gently, as she accepted it. “It would be totally out of character for you to do this without one.”

“The Captain suggested it was time to evaluate our status,” she said calmly.

The Colonel shuddered involuntarily, as the cold hand of worry gripped his heart. “Oh! And you have?” He suggested.

“Affirmative.” She finally managed to pick up a Su-shi block and offered it in victory to the Colonel.

Nervously he accepted it and chewed quietly waiting for her to elucidate, she seemed to be trying hard to come to a decision. Before she could the 'Red Alert', sounded calling all and sundry to duty stations.

"We should continue the discussion at another time," she announced quickly, standing up leaving the Colonel frustrated.

"Perhaps you're right," he sighed his agreement. "Just remember whatever you have decided, I will still love you!”

She pecked him on the cheek and hurried out the door for her station. The Colonel followed her a little more slowly as he contacted his new marines and deployed them around the ship.

“Where are the knights?” The Captain demanded as he slammed to attention on the Bridge.

“Marines Gwyndal and D’Argonaic are in Engineering, Marine Sant is taking station with Miss Nine in Astrometrics, the rest are taking station in the Mess for deployment as required, Ma’am,” he advised mildly, correcting her terminology.

She flashed him a vague smile, acknowledging his mild correction. “We might need them!” She said mildly. “We’re enroute to the assistance of a vessel that claims it is being attacked by pirates.”

“Very good, Ma’am,” the Colonel acknowledged blandly, taking his customary station beside the lift door and standing at ease, hands behind his back.

“Seven, can you identify any of the ships?” The Captain ordered on her intercom.

In Astrometrics Seven of Nine interrogated her systems, before reporting back. “Negative Captain. The smaller vessels appear to be using Photonic weaponry,” she answered eventually.

“Download all the tactical information you can and join us on the Bridge,” the Captain responded quickly.

“Permission to Speak, Ma’am?” The Colonel spoke up from his station.

Captain Janeway turned to him in surprise. “Go ahead,” she agreed cautiously.

“It strikes me as we are near Felongran territory that these could be Felongran vessels fighting, Ma’am. We could be getting involved in somebody else’s war. We are not in the best position to get involved in a shooting war,” he suggested.

“Are you suggesting we should simply sail on and ignore an appeal for help?” Tuvok interrupted.

“Until the attacks have stopped at least,” the Colonel agreed. “We have no business getting involved with other peoples arguments.”

“Tuvok, attempt to contact the alien vessel, find out who they are,” Captain Janeway ordered, glaring at the Colonel.

Minutes passed before Tuvok responded. “I am unable to raise the ships, Captain. However I have managed to decode more of the distress signal. The vessel claims to be Elgron cargo vessel carrying refugees. The smaller vessels have withdrawn,” he announced.

“Are you satisfied Colonel?” The Captain asked, annoyance showing.

“Ma’am,” he responded neutrally, not going to be drawn into any form of extended discussion. In his own mind he had decided that the course of action the Captain had decided on was unwise, it made him consider the state of mental health again.

“Your concern is noted,” she snapped, recognising the tone. “I will not ask you to join the Away Team. Chakotay, Tuvok, Seven and Harry Kim will go. You are relieved.”

“Ma’am!” He responded, his voice rising in alarm.

“Permission to speak, Ma’am?” He pleaded.

“No!” She snapped back. “You are relieved, return to quarters until the matter is settled.”

He slammed to attention, saluted and turned for the lift door, pulling his comm badge off and handing it to Tuvok as he left.

Chakotay had been listening to and watching the Captain hard during the interchange. “Are you sure about that?” He whispered in her ear. “If there is a physical problem aboard that ship, the Colonel will be essential for safety.”

“My Ready Room,” she snapped back and storming towards the door.

“Are you saying he is right, that it has nothing to do with us and we should simply sail on and ignore a distress call?” She stormed as the door closed behind Chakotay.

“No!” Chakotay denied vigourously. “I’m just pointing out that there may well be danger on that ship, both from the occupants and those that were attacking it. In that case I’d rather have the Colonel for protection than half the security aboard the ship, you’ve said that in the past as well. If you asked him to go he would.”

“He objected to my order!” She complained angrily

“He voiced a concern over the status of the ship we are aiming to assist,” Chakotay admitted. “But he didn’t object to it, he wouldn’t, you know that!”

“It’s time he learnt we don’t need his guidance and protection, we have survived before and we can do so again.”

“At least let me take a couple of the knights with us for security?” Chakotay asked quietly.

“You agree with him?”

Chakotay could see the Captains anger building inside her but could not think of any means of deflecting it. “I agree he had a point, in as far as you allowed him to speak,” he agreed carefully, his own frustration building. “But if you’re thinking of relieving me for that, then you had better be prepared to suspend everybody on the Bridge.”

“They will follow my orders!” She snarled at him.

“And so will the Colonel. You know that, but it didn’t stop you relieving him,” He snapped, giving in to his own annoyance.

“Are you trying to make an example of him, to show you are the Captain, or is there something else?” He demanded.

It was Captain Janeway’s turn to be guarded in her response. “He thinks I haven’t come out of the depression yet!” She admitted.

“The way he described his symptons, I’m inclined to agree with him!” Chakotay retorted. “Your attitude matches what he described perfectly.”

“I’ll go and prepare the Away Team. Do I get the knights?” He demanded.

Chakotay’s retort slapped the Captain as hard as a physical blow and she glared at him. “If you’re that scared then you had better take all of them,” she retorted.

“Better still don’t go and I’ll find somebody else to take your place,” she screamed at his retreating back. Then followed him to the Bridge.

“Let’s look at this ship!” She demanded.

Tuvok complied from his station, taking control of the main view screen to project an image of the vessel.

“The Vessel is approximately 2500 metres long, 1000 metres wide, 500 tall,” he described. “Three sections, the centre appears to be the main habitation area, the other two form outriggers. They appear to be hangers or cargo bays. Port side outrigger is badly damaged and open to space, as is a large amount of the main section. Other parts appear to have stable life support. Propulsion formed by six ion drives, all defensive systems are down. Numerous life signs.”

“Chakotay, your away team is ready?” She queried.

“Captain,” he agreed reluctantly to her command.

The Colonel did not return directly to his quarters, but went via the Mess where he found Paul Sant. He stood to attention as he approached, and made to salute.

“That will be unnecessary Marine,” the Colonel said quietly. “I am under open arrest and have no control over you. I would ask a favour of you though?”

“Sir!” Responded the slightly bemused knight, he was finding the Colonel’s rules and regulations complicated to adhere to, far more difficult than the ceremonies of knighthood. He demanded absolute obedience and had put them through the sort of treatment that had left them feeling exhausted and humiliated, but now he was requesting a favour like a friend.

Seeing the knight’s confusion the Colonel speaking quickly and quietly tried to explain. “I won’t apologise for my attitude and treatment of you and the others earlier, or promise to change them,” he started.

“There are reasons for it and perhaps you will learn what they are by the time we reach your home world. I will tell you they will make you good soldiers. But at the moment the Captain is intending to send an Away Team onto a freighter in the hope of rescuing some refugees. I think they are going to get into trouble. Will you please go to their help as soon as they hit it?”

Sant considered the request carefully. “You think I will have to act in contravention to Captain Janeway’s orders, the person who you said we should obey above all others?” He demanded.

“Yes,” the Colonel replied simply.

“Why should we do as you request?” Sant snapped. “You have been put under arrest.”

“Because it’s your damned stones that have stopped her thinking properly,” the Colonel shot back.

“Look,” he continued more gently. “This is not a fighting crew, they find it difficult to tell when to stop trying to be friends and get on with fighting. Of the people she is sending, only Tuvok will be able to offer any real resistance in hand to hand combat and I wouldn’t like to guarantee that!”

Sant looked contrite as a flash of shame flit across his face. “You believe the stones are still affecting the Captain?” He queried.

The Colonel nodded, “We didn’t stop them the first time.”

“Very well I will wait in the transporter room, ready for Captain Janeway’s command to go to their assistance,” he compromised.

“Thank you. But don’t wait too long before you go, Captains orders or no. Be a good soldier use your judgement,” the Colonel insisted. “At least one of the Away Team is very dear to me,” he confessed.

Saluting the bemused knight he turned on his heel and returned to his room to wait. He hoped Seven of Nine would appear before she left for the mission, at least so he could hold her and wish her luck and safety, but reasoned that the Captain would probably forbid it in her current mood. Unhappily he sat at the table and extracted the metalwork he had been working on over the last few days and recommenced work. A small inspiration struck him, “Computer, advise on loss of contact with Seven of Nine.”

“Insufficient privileges exist for that command!” The computer squawked back at him.

He had half expected that he would be locked out of the system after being relieved. “Override, Miller code 3856, ident M732680, confirm with lights dip,” he snapped back, using the security backdoor that he had been given by his Corporal computer cracker.

The computers electronic voice was replaced by the little Corporals cockney accent. “Your lady is in trouble, Sir?” It queried.

“Not yet, Corporal and I hope she won’t be,” the Colonel admitted. “Thank you for your concern.”

“I’ll keep track on her, Sir!” Millers voice floated back. “May I offer some advice, Sir?” It added conversationally.

“What is it?” The Colonel sighed, putting down his work.

“I know you’re trying to impress Miss Nine by trying to learn about the ship and all, but it’s not what she wants, Sir!”

“What does she want, Corporal?”

“She wants to feel like a woman with you, but she doesn’t know how,” the cryptic reply came. The Corporal’s voice disappeared, before the Colonel could demand an explanation.

Voyagers Away Team materialised in what was believed to be a large and largely empty hanger bay. Quietly they looked around them, a large force field covered aperture towards the stern of the vessel and the remains of three small shuttles confirmed the suspicion.

“Sensors detected a large number of life forms 600 metres from this point,” Seven of Nine commented nervously.

They were all feeling the absence of the Colonel’s confident protection and sixth senses, Chakotay realised. He found himself scanning the surrounds nervously, not trusting the results from the tri-corders as much as he used to. Pulling himself together he called his party together.

“We should be safe as long as we stay together,” he announced. “There is nothing magical about these people and we have tri-corders that will detect any form of approach,” he encouraged.

“Seven lead on,” he ordered and they followed the tall blonde as she led them through a doorway into the ship.

They entered the ship proper, with no surprises. Seven indicated a direction and they proceeded with caution.

"I am reading numerous life forms ahead." She confided. "Two different species."

She stopped at a door, indicating the source of her life readings. Tuvok activated the door control and it opened silently, they stepped in. It appeared to be a large vestibule, dimly lit, they sensed rather then saw another heavy door infront, as the door behind them closed.

Quickly Kim turned back to the door behind them to find it secured and no means of opening it again. The discovery was followed by a low hissing noise from around their feet.

“Gas!” Spluttered Chakotay, feeling his eye’s start to stream.

“Voyager, lock on and beam us out!” He gasped in alarm at his communicator, as the room started to spin in front of him. He felt the fuzzy feeling of the transporter beam as he blacked out.

“Did we get them?” The Captain demanded on the Bridge as they lost communication with the Away Team.

“I got Ensign Kim and Commander Chakotay, Captain,” the Ensign admitted nervously from the console. “I lost contact with Seven of Nine and Tuvok. A dampening field seemed to spring up as I started the transport.”

“Find them and bring them back!” She almost screamed at the unfortunate Ensign.

“Doctor, what state are Chakotay and Kim in?” She continued by snapping at her communicator.

“They have inhaled some form of gas. I will have to perform tests to find out what it was,” the Doctor announced from the Transporter Room. “I don’t think it was serious, they didn’t inhale enough for it to be dangerous.”

In his quarter’s the Colonel was disturbed by the lights in the room momentarily dipping. Silently he stood and pulled on his combat jacket. Two steps took him to the wardrobe where he kept his equipment and he donned his pack and weaponry.

“Miller, activate transporter. Beam me to the Away Teams start co-ordinates,” he demanded calmly. “On completion, advise the Captain where I am, if she asks.”

He materialised as he had demanded in the same spot as the Away Team had some time before, he immediately darted for cover amongst the litter in the hanger, then scanned the surroundings carefully. Finally satisfied that he was not in immediate danger from attack he moved towards the open doorway into the ship.

The Colonel's progress was by nature very different from that used by the Away Team. Where as they had marched up the corridors boldly, content that the Tri-corders they were using would advise them of impending threats. The Colonel skittered up them carefully, keeping close to walls, checking doors, glancing around him, checking corners before proceeding. It did mean that it took longer to cover a comparable distance, even though it was much safer.

He found it difficult to accept the answers that the machinery around him gave at face value, preferring to use them to supplement his own instincts. He felt it gave him an edge over his technology reliant friends in circumstances like these. Not that he could read the displays properly either, to him the gnomish symbols and display could mean almost anything.

He noticed the strange smell as he flitted quietly along the corridor, all pervading, sickly and sweet, it was familiar, but he could not put a meaning to it. He opened a door and the full force of the smell hit him and he reeled back in revulsion. He knew what the smell was now, remembered images of death camps flooded his mind as he steadied himself against the wall of the corridor.

Swallowing hard to recover from the violent wave of nausea, he steadied himself and approached the door again.

The room was in darkness so by the light of the small pocket torch he carried he gazed queasily at the sight in front of him. It appeared to be a large hold, the weak beam from the torch could not penetrate the haze that had formed in the warm atmosphere and pick up the far wall. He suspected that might not be a bad thing, what he could see amongst the shadows was far from pleasant. The bodies in front of him had obviously died in pain and terror, their twisted faces screaming terror at him in silence.

Sickened he turned away, not even bothering to attempt to count the bodies or find what they had died of. He staggered on, removing the safety catch from his rifle and fitting its bayonet, there was little chance of a peaceful outcome to his rescue mission now.

“Captain, an unauthorised transport has occurred,” Ensign Kala announced. “Somebody has just beamed to the freighter. My guess is it is the Colonel gone to rescue Seven of Nine,” she added glibly.

“How did he access transporters?” The Captain demanded angily.

“Miller!” She answered her own question. “I want him deactivated and removed from the ships computers!”

“I think we may have other problems, Ma’am,” Ensign Carver intercepted calmly. “Three small vessels have come in detection range, they appear to be similar to the ones that were attacking the freighter. At current speed they will be here in approximately two hours.”

“Orders Captain?” Tom Paris querried from the Pilots seat.

“Have you found Seven and Tuvok yet?” She demanded of Kala.

“Sorry Ma’am. I can’t identify anybody,” the Ensign admitted chastely.

“We stay until we find them,” she decided. “Shields up, full power to weapons. Tom put us somewhere where we can intercept those ships safely.”

Tuvok awoke slowly, shaking himself groggily from the blow on his head he started to examine his situation. He found he had been roughly strapped to a bench, the leather bonds cutting into his wrists and ankles, bright lights were shining down, he could feel the heat from them. Beside him lay Seven of Nine, also bound and lit in similar fashion.

"Seven! You are awake?" He asked cautiously.

"I am undamaged, but uncomfortable!" She responded calmly. "Why have they restrained us?"

"Their purpose is unclear, they may have believed we were hostile." He responded.

"They did not respond to our hails." Seven of Nine pointed out.

Their discussion was brought to a halt as two figures approached them. Tuvok examined them as well as he was able from his bench. They stood about 1.7 Metres tall and clad in what appeared to be a black leather material and obviously appeared to be a uniform. Their faces, covered in short fur, one a mottled brown, the other piebald black and white, showed long whiskers and a vee shaped mouth terminating in a flat nose, eyes were slanted the pupils elongated, they shone green as the light caught them. The top of there heads two pointed ears were prominent. He also caught a glimpse of a long tail, whisking behind them. A feline species.

"The rebels have awoken Tigra! It will be much more enjoyable getting them to tell us what we want to know now!" The piebald purred to its partner.

"I do not recognise the race." The one referred to as Tigra stated. "The darker one is similar to the Elgron's but is much heavier. The female is not recognisable. They must be mercenary rebels. We should start with the female first, it will weaken the male."

Seven of Nine and Tuvok looked at each other in concern.

The felines turned to their two captives. "Who are you?" Tigra demanded.

"We are explorers." Tuvok responded automatically. "We are from the Federation Exploration Ship Voyager, we intend no harm to you or anybody else. We know nothing of your Empire or rebels. We responded to a distress signal from this ship!"

"You lie!" The tabby spit.

"What is your race?" Tigra demanded slyly.

Tuvok replied for them both. "I am a Vulcan, Seven of Nine is a Terran from Earth. We are from the Alpha Quadrant, 20,000 light years from here. We are not part of your Empire!" He protested.

"You lie!" The tabby spat again. "How many are on your vessel, where is your mother ship?"

The first raked a paw down Seven of Nines stomach and thighs. She could feel the nails catching the material of her suit. She gasped as an involuntary thrill ran through her body.

"This one is responsive, Tigra." He purred in delight, "Perhaps we can play with her properly after they have told us everything?"

Tuvok saw Seven of Nine's eyes open wide in distress and guessed from their actions the sort of games that these two would invent. He tried to divert them with the truth and a warning. "Our ship carries a crew of 143. They will respond violently if we are harmed.”

“There is one warrior in particular who is particularly attached to Seven of Nine. He will be very violent if she is harmed. We know he has destroyed many lives against a far more powerful enemy than you, many claim he cannot be killed!” He spoke quietly keeping the desperation from his voice whilst attempting to intimidate their captors into withdrawing. “We saw him kill the Knights of Cathor.”

The final comment seemed to have an effect, one of the felines shuddered visibly.

“He is almost certainly preparing to board this vessel, if he is not already aboard, he will harm you,” he continued, trying to milk the small reaction he had witnessed

"Heboran, take the rest and capture this unkillable warrior, if he exists. Bring him here, these rebels will see what happens to people who resist the Empire." Tigra commanded. At last they had a name to the piebald, it seemed of little benefit.

"I will continue interrogating these two." He announced, again pawing at Seven of Nine’s prostrate body. She squirmed violently against the onslaught, the strange erotic sensations that were being loosed as he scrapped his nails down her body then up the inside of her thighs totally unwanted.

"You should not do that!" Protested Tuvok sharply.

"Silence!" Tigra shouted, cuffing him violently across the face, his sharp and exposed nails leaving a bloody trail across his face. Then he turned again to Seven of Nine.

His pawing was interrupted by sharp reports echoing through the corridor.

"Our warrior has found your party," Seven of Nine claimed confidently, attempting to regain her composure. "He will defeat them as he defeated the Borg!"

The Colonel, quietly slipping through the ships corridors, still managed to almost walk into the approaching posse of felines. Only his sixth senses saved him, he suddenly felt it tug at him as he rounded a corner. Quickly he sprinted back behind the corner he had just rounded and took up position, his rifle ready. A party of eight humanoid creatures rounded a corner some fifty yards away, they all appeared to be armed and walked openly. He felt no desire to challenge them, after what he had seen, so simply waited for them to walk half way down the corridor, the point of no return, then coldly opened fire.

He fired eight shots and seven of his prospective opponents fell. The last turned and fled. Immediately he was on his feet and sprinting after him, leaping the fallen creatures. One of the fallen tried to reach for him as he leapt, he fired again at point blank range and it slumped back. He continued his full tilt run after the disappearing target. He quickly found he was being out distanced as he saw it drop to all fours and started to gallop. He gave up the chase and returned to his cautious advance as a junction of corridors faced him.

Again his sixth sense started to clang as he approached the junction. He divided across the openings, keeping low, gratified by the pulse of weapons fire passing safely overhead. As he landed he rolled back to his feet again and launched himself in the direction that the weapon had fired from rounding the corner with an ear splitting scream to meet his aggressor. It was stooping lower than he expected and sprang at him as he cleared the corner. It knocked the weapon from his hands and lashed at his face with claws. The Colonel leapt to avoid them, the claws hooked into his jacket, ripping it open. The flying leap brought him down on top of his aggressor and he found himself in a flurry of nails and teeth. They rolled over each other, he could feel the claws of his attacker ripping at his clothing, then the burning sensation of them tearing at his skin. It was faster than him, he realised, but not as strong. Desperately he struggled on top again and sought for it's throat with his hands, ignoring the flailing claws ripping at his own neck, he grabbed it and started to squeeze with all the strength he could muster, pressing his thumbs into the centre of the creatures throat and slamming the head repeatedly against the ground. Gradually it stilled and he slammed it down for the last time.

He stood up shakily and took a moment to examine the feline features of his enemy. "Bloody Cats!" He muttered. "I hate cats!" He kicked the inert body, then picked up his rifle and continued up the corridor.

An inevitable door faced him again, he could hear vague cries from behind it, they suggested he had finally arrived at the right place. Wishing he had a stun grenade, he opened the door and dived in, rolling to his knees he scanned the room with his weapon. He spotted the single feline creature standing beside a table and shot it without hesitation. It screamed and fell to the floor writhing. Ignoring it he got to his feet again and looked around, immediately spotting a flushed Seven of Nine and the bloodied Commander strapped to their respective benches.

"I can't let you buggers out of my sight for a minute," he commented dryly as he rallied his thoughts and cut their ties, starting with Tuvok.

As he released Seven, she sat up and put her arms around him, kissing him firmly, then buried her head and emotions in his chest. Surprised he put his own arms around her and held her close. "You're quite safe now," He whispered gently in her ear. "I'm here!"

"You have a medical pack?" Tuvok asked, breaking them from their mutual affections. "We need to treat the injured feline Tigra."

The Colonel stepped back from Seven and examined her torn clothing, Tuvoks own slashed face, then bent to examine Tigra. “Why?” He demanded irritably.

"He has a stomach wound, smashed kidney, from the bile I'd say a punctured spleen." He diagnosed. "An issue medi kit won't save his life, he'll be dead inside ten minutes. The best we can do is to stop it hurting."

He produced a hypospray and used it quickly. "It's the best we can do and a lot better than you deserve you bastard." He hissed at him as he passed into unconsciousness and death.

"Put me in the Brig later." He hissed, before the shocked Tuvok could respond. "Now let me look at those scratches!"

"You have committed a murder!" Tuvok stated coldly.

"So has he and worse. I've simply put him to sleep painlessly." The Colonel snapped. "I will make myself available for judgement when we are back on Voyager."

"You have also been damaged?" Seven interupted the burgeoning arguement.

"Nothing too serious." The Colonel grunted. He turned back to Seven of Nine and put his arm around her again, supporting her.

She had watched the Colonel dispatch her torturer coldly. She then had sat silently trying to match her conflicting emotions. She had been terrified as the creatures undesirable stroking had become more intimate, causing strange thrills of excitement and desire to course through her body, but equally the cold and clinical way the Colonel had despatched had also seemed wrong.

The feel of his arm going around her again and his gentle kiss had the effect of pushing the thoughts away with the great flood of comfort he always seemed to bring, as he helped her from the table.

The Colonel seemed to pick up her thoughts and gently whispered, "Love me or loath me, it is your choice. I cannot help you with it this time. But remember what it was doing and intending to do. Tuvok will need your help before the end of today, and I will help you do your duty." Fighting off the desire to kiss and hold her closer, he released her, doubting such a tender action from him would be appreciated at the moment.

She stepped towards Tuvok and took hold of his arm. He shook it off and the Colonel shook his head sadly.

"Shall we find the remains of the ships crew?" He asked, leading the way to the door.

From a table in the room Tuvok retrieved the comms badges that their captors had ripped from their clothing and handed one to Seven of Nine. He activated his own and reported their newly regained freedom and the base facts of the Elgrons .

“Very good,” she acknowledged. “We have more hostile ships approaching, prepare to beam out. It looks as though the Colonel may have been right, we have barged into somebody’s war,” she advised.

“We will have to intercept the Colonel,” Tuvok responded. “He has witnessed some items that have disturbed him. I believe they may be worth investigating.”

“You have an hour,” she signed off.

“We had better catch up with the Colonel,” Seven announced simply, picking up the tri-corder from the desk and activating it. “At his normal pace he will be more than 800Metres from our current location.

They caught up with him ten minutes later.

“This is the door into the airlock we were trapped in,” Seven claimed. “The remains of the crew are beyond the second door. However the lock itself is a trap.”

“Well we’d better spring it then, hadn’t we?” The Colonel announced evenly and opening the door.

From a pouch he pulled a bullet for his rifle and jammed it into the doors runners and stepped inside. He examined the floor and walls carefully, then to their surprise the rim of the door. “It’s not a well thought out trap,” he commented at last, pulling something from the door jamb. “Simple micro-switch,” he showed them the item he had tugged from the wall.

This time they let the Colonel enter the hold that had started their problems. As Tuvok opened the door he dived in and scanned the surrounds, rifle levelled. He spotted two more of the feline creatures, he shot the one that reacted by bringing his weapon up to fire, then he targeted the second.

"If you want to be a dead hero cock, then try bringing your weapon up to fire!" He called sharply, "Otherwise put it down and put your paws on your head. Either will suit me fine!"

The last of the felines having seen the dispassionate way that his companion had been dealt with put his weapon down in shock. The Colonel approached him, his own weapon still levelled and kicked the weapon away. "On the floor!" He demanded harshly. "Put you paws on the back of your head!"

The creature did as he was instructed and the Colonel, kneeling on his neck, carried out a rough body search for any concealed weapons. Finding none he demanded, "How many of you are there?"

"Eleven!" The feline answered in a strangled whisper.

The Colonel roughly turned him over and glared at him. "If I find you're lying I will rip you apart!" He hissed at it. "Who and what are you?"

"I am Feroska from Sharla in the Felongra Empire." he whispered plaintively. The glare he was getting from the steel grey eye's of the humanoid terrified him, there was no doubt, in his mind, that he could and would do as he threatened.

The Colonel stood, "Well Mr Feroska, I am Colonel Samuels, a human. If you don't want to get on the wrong side of me, then you had better become helpful, very helpful," He announced coldly, pulling him to his feet.

He turned to Tuvok. "Your prisoner, Commander!"

Tuvok regarded Feroska closely. He was young he decided, the smooth black pelt showed none of the matting of the other feline crew. "How many ships were there? Where are they?" He asked his questions, as the Colonel walked further into the hold.

"Six, three left to chase the other ship three weeks ago." Feroska answered quickly. "You won't let the animal kill me?"

"If you act as he demands, he will not harm you." Tuvok prophesised. In truth he realised that he would not be able to stop the Colonel, if he decided to be violent again. "What two ships were you chasing and why?"

"They are Elgron warships, fleeing with refugees from their home world. We have conquered it. The two warships were badly damaged and were only carrying a few fighters for protection but were trying to flee with a large number of their race. My squadron were ordered to track them down and bring them back for the mercy of the Emperor or destroy them if they resisted." Feroska explained, with increasing agitation as the Colonel returned, he was looking a little pale.

"How many Elgron were there aboard this vessel?" The Colonel roughly interrupted Tuvoks patient questioning.

"Four kilo!"

The Colonel looked at him blankly at the mistranslation from the universal translator, then twigged the meaning. "And where are the other three and a half thousand or are they all in the other hold I found? Don't tell me they were all resisting, because I've just talked to one of the survivors." His voice was low and threatening.

"All warriors were executed." Feroska announced nervously.

"And the rest?" The Colonel forced again, "The civilian women and men?" Anger was clearly starting to show in his rising voice. "Where they 'played' with before they were executed? Was it cyanide gas you used or something more grotesque? Were you one of the perpetrators? Give me one good reason not to hang you on the spot?"

Terrified Feroska cowered away from him, "Yes they were, in another hold," he admitted softly. "I was not involved. I am an engineer, I was sent to get the drives operational for the return flight," he pleaded. "It is the Tallon's and Kataran's that do what you have suggested."

"I suspect to these people the difference is marginal" The Colonel hissed, "And the children left aboard are to return to your Emperor to become slaves?"

Feroska nodded unhappily.

Colonel Samuels turned to Tuvok and reported. "I have seen concentration camps and torture camps, I've even been interned in one for a short time! This is approaching the extreme."

"There are about 600 Elgron left aboard. They remind me of dainty elves, slanty eyes, pointed ears the lot." He admitted. "Most are children, maybe forty females. One of those is heavily pregnant, I'm not sure what is going to be produced. The rest of the crew were murdered, I’ve seen their bodies," he confessed.

"There is another problem, I suspect there may be some cases of dysentry aboard. They certainly haven't been fed properly and I can recognise it from the smell in some of the camps I've worked in. It needs to be treated immediately."

"What are your recommendations?" Tuvok asked calmly.

He took Tuvok's arm and led him away. "I think we need the Doctor. I remember that treatment was fairly simple, using sugar and salt, but I don't know the proportions. Otherwise I suggest that we use Mr Feroska's knowledge to get this tub underway, he will have to be guarded though. I am also worried about Miss Nine. I know they didn't have time to do anything serious, but it will have had an affect. I don't think she's too sure she wants me to offer the comfort she needs. I know physical feelings are an anathema to Vulcans, but you may have to put them to one side for her sake!" He confided quietly.

"There are also three more Felongra Warships returning to finish what they have started. We have been ordered to withdraw," Tuvok said.

"We can’t!" The Colonel protested, "Not now, not after what I’ve seen. We need to get this tub underway and at least give them a chance."

“The Captains orders were specific, this dispute has nothing to do with us, as you originally pointed out,” Tuvok pointed out.

“Aye,” the Colonel sighed. “But we are involved now. And don’t tell me you are immune to what you can see in here, otherwise I’ll show you what they did to the rest of the crew.”

“I’ll contact the Captain find what she wishes to do,” Tuvok decided, reaching for his communicator.

“It is dangerous to stay aboard that ship,” the Captain complained, after being briefed by Tuvok.

“Excuse me, Ma’am,” the Colonel interjected. “But have you ever seen pictures of the ‘Holocaust’, the extermination of the Jews in Germany. That is what we have here. I, we can’t leave them to that fate,” he pleaded.

The Captain was silent for a few minutes, taking in the Colonel’s obviously agitated state, then came back. “I’ll see if the Felongra will let them go, there are no weapons left aboard the ship?” She queried.

“The only thing dangerous aboard this vessel is me,” the Colonel assured her. “And I will rip any cat