Desperate for Seven of Nine overcome her emotions over her desire to reproduce, Captain Janeway sends the Colonel and Seven of Nine to investigate an anomaly. Voyager meets treachery as the Captain is captured by the Borg. The Colonel goes to war!

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

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

“Are you sure you need all this, Seven?” B’Elanna Paris sighed, waving her arm expansively at the range of data nodes and equipment Seven of Nine had collected in the Science Lab.

“I know the Captain said she would like you to find a way to prevent any child you conceive not to turn out to be a Borg. But this is getting ridiculous! There must be over a hundred data units alone, surely you haven’t read them all?”

“One hundred thirty-two,” she agreed. “They were necessary for me to fully understand the full implications of the gestation cycle and the possible consequences of cross breeding. Please state the purpose of your visit?”

“But you won’t be cross breeding!” B’Elanna exclaimed. “You are as human as the Colonel!”

Seven regarded her impassively. “You are incorrect. Whilst we posses the basic genetic code of humans; the Colonels are different at two points of decimal, because of the generation he is descended from and additional factors such as my assimilation. Also much of my body has been ‘enhanced’ by the use of Borg technology, as is the Colonel’s to a lesser extent. Those technologies will infect the child. We are uncertain what the overall effects those technologies will have.”

“Will it matter?” B’Elanna demanded. “It will be human and yours, even if it does have a few Borg enhancements! What does the Colonel say?”

For the first time Seven looked a little uncertain. “The only stipulation he has placed is that he does not wish to plug the baby into the mains at night to recharge.”

“Well there you are then,” B’Elanna announced. “He isn’t worried, why should you be?”

“He does not understand the full capability of my nano-probes!” Seven protested. “I do not wish it to suffer from assimilation.”

B’Elanna stepped closer to her friend and took her gently by the arm. “Perhaps he doesn’t,” she agreed gently. “But perhaps you are putting too much faith in their capability. After all, you have stuffed him full of yours and apart from a touch of thrombosis, they did nothing to him and you had been going at him ‘Hammer and Tongs’ for nearly six months. The baby will have some of his as well!”

Seven of Nine was not to be deflected as easily as that. “When you and Lieutenant Paris conceive, the course of the interaction between your Klingon genes and his human genes has been well documented,” she said quietly. “The child will inherit features from both of you as his parents. It will maintain your facial features and some other inherent Klingon adaptations, probably your temper traits, it will however be largely human.”

“The interaction between the Colonel’s and my own is not documented. To that must be added the uncertainty of our respective probes to adapt and assimilate different conditions. We know that if my probes are outnumbered by the Colonel’s, they are adapted to behave like his. The converse is also true. It is also uncertain what effect the nanoprobes will have on the developing child. I once believed that my Borg enhancements brought me to a level of perfection that humans cannot achieve. Now I have discovered that they do not offer perfection, but rather increase the level of imperfection. I do not wish our child to be so enhanced and disadvantaged. The outcome is uncertain.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” B’Elanna commented teasingly. “If it hadn’t been for your Borg upbringing you wouldn’t have the Colonel. He fell for you because of your Borg enhancements!”

“Besides when you injected a Borg it was re-assimilated. You haven’t done that to the Colonel. Doesn’t that suggest something?” B’Elanna added, pulling Seven towards the door. “It does to me!”

A worried frown passed across Seven of Nines face as she considered the question. For thirty seconds she considered it, before admitting, “No.”

B’Elanna laughed. “It means, you couldn’t make him Borg if you wanted to. The same will be true of your baby.”

“Perhaps,” Seven of Nine agreed guardedly. “The Colonel has also suggested a similar relationship exists. He described it as part of ‘love’, the statement lacks logic. My nanoprobes are not affected by emotional sentiment. What are your intentions?”

Still grinning, B’Elanna answered, “I was going to say I was missing our arguments about efficiency in Engineering. But the truth is, nobody’s seen you for a week, because you’ve shut yourself in here. So I’m taking you to dinner.”

Seven pulled back in alarm. “I do not wish to go to the Mess! I find the location uncomfortable!”

“People offering advice, huh?” B’Elanna suggested sympathetically. “I keep getting advice from people as well!”

“Since Tom and I married, the number of people who have asked when we intend to start a family and advice on how to do it, you wouldn’t believe! It’s as much as I can do not to scream at them!” She explained. “As it is, we aren’t going to the Mess. We are going to ‘Brains’. Just you, me and Sam Wildman.”

“This was the Colonels suggestion?” Seven queried uncertainly. ‘Brains’ was a simulation of an Earth night club she had visited with the Colonel as a means of getting him to relax and proving she wanted to interact with him. It had since become a firm favourite with both of them as a venue for when they wanted to remove themselves as far as possible from the crew. What surprised her most was that the Colonel was often the most in need of the break.

“Actually it was mine! The Colonel said you had been working too hard. Besides he is on duty!” B’Elanna claimed.

Seven of Nine looked back at her terminal. She wanted to get the tests she was carrying out completed. They had been driving her for the last two weeks, almost obsessively, as she strove to find what effect her nano-probes were going to have if she were to attempt to have a child. For the last five days she had even omitted to regenerate in the cargo bay, as more and more tests had proved inconclusive. She was beginning to think there was going to be no positive answer and she would have to trust to luck. Luck was not a solution that her logical mind would accept, even if her husband claimed he believed in it.

Her logical mind had also noted that the Colonel, with the deftness of a card sharp, modified the circumstances he was in so that ‘luck’ would be on his side.

With some reluctance she turned her look away. “Your proposal is satisfactory.”

The Colonel presented himself to the Captain at exactly 21:30, ready to take his shift on the Bridge as commander of the Dog Watch. His presentation had become quite routine and the Captain found she enjoyed the brief, almost comical, ceremony that accompanied it. If he did, or not, she had never managed to work out, but it was his regulations that he followed. It tended to be the highlight of an otherwise dull shift, or a calming influence on a bad one.

He would appear twenty minutes before the remains of his shift gathered, formally stand to attention, salute and request permission to step on the Bridge. This, she would grant, he would then step forward onto the balcony behind her seat, slam to a halt and stand at attention until she had inspected his turn out.

In the seven months since Cathor, she had found fault in his dress twice. One had been a loose button on his tunic, the second had been two long blonde hairs on his back. In Star Fleet, they were faults that meant nothing, but to the Colonel and his regulations they seemed to be major crimes. She was inordinately proud of having found both of them, they were the tiniest details that he stressed on the Dog Watch as being the most important clues as to what was to happen next.

If all went well with the inspection, she would have him stand at ease and could then brief him. Remembering to have him stand at ease was also important, she had forgotten the first week and he had stood stock still at attention and had barked ‘Ma’am!’ at her every comment until it seemed that the panelling on the bridge was rattling in sympathy.

When the rest of the Dog Watch assembled for the shift, their was a similar ceremony. This time conducted by the Colonel. The fact that it seemed to work and they seemed to enjoy trying to meet his exacting standards, never failed to amaze her. It seemed so foreign and strict, yet it had had its affect, the members of the Dog Watch were proud of their watch and had learned more tricks in its short existence than she had in over fifteen years in Star Fleet. It had prompted her to give them their promotions two months ago. If only because they were always the neatest crewmen on the ship. Secretly, she suspected, as a team, they could give her prime crew more than a run for their money.

She had also spent much time going over the history files on the computer to find why the Colonel followed such strict procedures. Whatever she might learn in the Delta Quadrant, she would also be an expert on the subject of the British Army.

This evening was no different, the Colonel was as always immaculately turned out, except for a brown hair on his collar. She picked it up with a flourish of victory and some surprise. A blonde hair she could understand, it would be Seven’s. A brown one was different. She looked at him in puzzlement.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am!” He stuttered in embarrassment. “I believe it may be Lieutenant Paris B’s, Ma’am. She offered to ensure Mrs Nine left the lab tonight. I’m afraid I was a little forward. I am unsure if Lieutenant Paris wishes to press charges.”

“You kissed her!” the Captain accused in merriment. “I don’t suppose you called her B’Elanna as well did you?”

“Well I suppose it is a start,” she commented, still amused at the idea. “Seven is taking the probe problem seriously?”

“Rather too seriously, I’m afraid, Ma’am. When the shift pattern is over I intend to distract her properly. Then perhaps I can see if this new ejector works.” He grinned, then sub-consciously scratched the inside of his left arm where the probe ejection system Seven of Nine had designed to combat her periodic inoculations sat.

“I’m still not happy about adding more Borg technology to your system,” she confided more seriously. “Is it causing you problems?”

“It itches, Ma’am,” be agreed. “But it will get better when I’m used to it. It is either that or chain her to the bed post at night. I couldn’t have that! Besides when one gets involved with somebody like Mrs Nine, one has to be prepared to take the rough with the smooth.”

Her grin of relief was genuine. “There shouldn’t be any problems tonight, but we will be passing a system with intelligent life. There doesn’t seem to be any advanced space capability, but you may need to keep an eye on it. I’ll see you tomorrow!” She briefed him hurriedly, stifling a yawn as the rest of the watch paraded behind him.

In respect to Seven of Nine and her limited taste for rich food, Samantha Wildman and B’Elanna had persuaded the replicator system to provide ‘The Colonel’s Hot Pot’, as it had become known aboard the ship; a molasses fortified variation of Lancashire Hot Pot.

Some wags aboard the ship suggested, tongue in cheek, that was why she loved him, others that it was the only meal she could actually prepare from raw ingredients. Neither was true, the Colonel enjoyed cooking, Seven of Nine did not and they each admitted it. Whatever the reasoning it was a meal that Seven of Nine had developed a taste for, when it appeared upon the Mess menu she had been seen to help herself to unusually large portions.

Otherwise the meal went quietly, B’Elanna and Samantha tactfully keeping their conversation away from the subject of reproduction until the end of the meal, when Samantha brought it up.

“When are you and Tom going to make the Captain a Godmother?” She asked B’Elanna, with a sly grin.

“Deck 3 isn’t the only one that complains about thumps in the night,” Samantha Wildman observed. “You have been married,” she looked questioningly at Seven of Nine.

“Seven months, twenty-five days,” Seven supplied dutifully, curious at the teasing. Ensign Wildman had been one of only a small handful of the crew that had not offered her advice about how to extend the Samuels’ Collective.

She nodded happily. “See. High time! I can see him now. Tom’s angelic looks and your temper, what more could you want?”

“Perhaps Lieutenant B’Elanna Paris’s intelligence?” Seven of Nine added dryly.

They laughed good naturedly at the comment. That also puzzled Seven of Nine, it had been intended as a serious statement.

“Of course, he is going to have no chance compared to Seven’s!” Samantha laughed, turning her teasing on Seven of Nine, who stiffened in anticipation of more useless advice.

“She will be as tough and as determined as you two are, just as efficient and yet still seem so helpless everybody will want to look after her. Just like we do with you both!” Samantha predicted. “Come on, Seven. Call up a couple of copies of your holo-Colonel. I haven’t danced in months and as I can’t have the real one, perhaps you’ll let me dance with a replica?”

Uncertainly Seven of Nine complied, though a little selfishly, she only produced the one Colonel and two others from his regiment. B’Elanna and Samantha winked knowingly at each other as Seven took the hologram of her husband in her arms for the first dance. No matter how Seven felt about learning to control her probes, the tall soldier was still guaranteed to take her attention.

They finally escorted her to Cargo Bay 2 and set her in her alcove for regeneration some two hours later, then congratulated each other on a job well done. Seven of Nine had been persuaded to relax, despite her determination to complete her quest. The Colonel would be very grateful.

“Six small vessels approaching, Sir!” Ensign Carver warned the Colonel from the Tactical Station.

“Very good. Hail them!” the Colonel ordered calmly from the Commanders seat.

Automatically Carver displayed the alien vessels on the view screen and his fingers ran over the controls to send out a general greeting.

“No response, Sir!” He advised after a few moments. “Each shows a single life form. No weapons powered.”

The Colonel was watching the screen intently, the small triangular ships were approaching in vee formation and were starting to spread out.

“Shields up. Prepare tractor beams and phasors. Sound red alert,” he ordered quickly. “They are forming into an attack pattern. Advise when they target and keep sending universal friendship signals.”

“They are powering weapons,” announced Carver almost immediately. “But there is no serious power in them. Simple lasers.”

The Colonel nodded. “Lock the lead vessel with a tractor beam, target his power systems with enough clout to knock him about. No more than that. Make sure they know who we are. I think we are being tested, so keep scanning for something more serious!”

There was a slight rock as Voyager was hit by the first laser blasts. It prompted the Colonel to shake his head sadly. “Damage the first vessel, please, Ensign,” he ordered. “Don’t kill it yet. We don’t want any bodies to explain!”

From the upper phasor array a single pale beam lanced out and caught the fighter held in the tractor beam.

“Damaged as ordered, Sir!” Carver proclaimed proudly, as the ship was again rocked.

“Persistent buggers aren’t they!” the Colonel growled. “Open all channels!”

“This is Lieutenant Colonel Samuels acting on behalf of the Commander of the Federation Starship Voyager to unidentified vessels. Stand to. I may decide to destroy the next ship to fire upon us!” he claimed calmly.

Behind him the Captain appeared from the lift, Chakotay hard on her heels. “Report!” She demanded, irritated at the Colonel’s less than mild threat.

“Begging pardon, Ma’am,” he claimed. “Six small single seat vessels have turned up and are intent on using us for target practice. So far they have failed to heed polite notices. I was hoping to persuade them with something a little stronger.”

“We don’t do it like that, Colonel,” she reminded him quietly. “And by your regulations, you are supposed to ask permission to engage an enemy!”

“They fired first, Ma’am. We responded with like force. Regulations permit the use of matched force. No serious damage has been done,” he commented.

“On screen,” the Captain spat, stepping forward so that she could take the communication. Ready to apologise for the Colonel’s threat, until a small face of a boy appeared on the screen.

It gazed at the Captain uncertainly, taking in the strange uniform. “You aren’t the target ship?” He asked uncertainly.

Taken by surprise the Captain could only shake her head. “No!” She voiced after a moments hesitation. “I am Kathryn Janeway, Captain of the Federation Starship Voyager. We are peaceful, but defend ourselves if we have to,” she glared accusingly at the Colonel, who shrugged. As far as he was concerned his response was adequate for the circumstances.

“I should point out we have far more powerful weapons than your vessels. Now who are you and why did you try to attack us?” She demanded.

The pilot of the strange vessel blushed, then rallied. “I am Flight Lieutenant Vesa of the Imperial Air Force of Komos. We are on a training flight. We thought you were the target ship,” his voice trailed of in embarrassment and he looked down.

“You were very nearly an ex-lieutenant,” the Captain scolded crossly. “Weren’t you taught to identify an enemy before attacking?”

The face looked up. “We were told to expect an unusual vessel that would try and deceive us,” he explained, going bright red.

“You were very lucky,” the Captain continued softening her attitude somewhat, feeling compassion for the child on the small ship. “The officer in command of the watch responded with unusual restraint. If he hadn’t, we would be explaining to your parents why you haven’t come home.”

“I have no parents,” he responded quickly. “My flight will however guide your ship to Komos. My ship is too badly damaged to keep up.”

“We will tractor it into our shuttle bay. Just keep your fingers off the fire controls,” the Captain announced, glancing around at Ensign Kala at Ops, who was already working the controls to carry out the Captains command.

The Captain turned towards the Colonel. “Perhaps you had better meet him?” she suggested. “Then you can apologise.”

“Never mind. You can still meet him. He might realise how lucky he is,” she breezed.

Lieutenant Vesa sat at the controls of his small fighter, fearful of touching anything incase the alien ship decided to carry out it’s threat and destroy his ship. When he and his flight had set off from Komos six hours previously, they had not expected to meet a strange vessel. The regular Air Force usually intercepted strange ships long before they were close enough to the home planet for training squadrons to intercept. He wondered how it would appear on his record. Attacking a seemingly friendly alien vessel would not look too well.

As his craft was gently set onto a landing space, he carefully deactivated his power systems , opened the canopy and scanned his surrounds with interest. The three other vessels in the hold were totally different from each other and his own delta winged fighter, he observed. He wondered if they were all as powerful as the heavy fighters. His eye’s then tracked the actions of the others in the bay. There were four in boiler suits, under the watchful gaze of a female with yellow shoulders and bumpy forehead. They were busy watching small handheld devices, obviously scanning his vessel for anything that they thought might prove dangerous. Finally he spotted a tall man in green. He seemed to be examining him as he surveyed his surrounds. His left hand was sitting comfortably on the handle of a sword. It seemed a strange weapon on such an obviously advanced ship, he decided. It prompted him to examine the stranger more closely. He was dressed very differently to the others in the hold, it didn’t seem to belong.

The stranger moved towards him, as if impatient for him to vacate the limited safety of his cockpit. Vesa noticed the way he moved, it was smooth, measured and purposeful.

He spoke quietly, but forcefully, like a Centurions. It was a voice that expected to be obeyed, his manner suggested consequences if it wasn’t, yet the others in the room did not appear to be concerned by it. Perhaps it was because they were not the target. “Lieutenant Vesa. I am Lieutenant Colonel Samuels. I have been requested to take you to the Captain’s Ready Room for debriefing. If you would be so good as to follow me?”

Devoid of choice Vesa climbed stiffly from his cockpit and tried to come to some form of attention before the imposing human.

He smiled, confidently. “You have a long way to go to impress me son, after trying to attack us,” he commented gently, eyeing up Vesa’s own short body. “If we hadn’t detected how weak your weapons were you would have been scattered across the Universe by now.”

The smile this time was more friendly. “No harm done, Lieutenant. Just remember it for next time. Look before you dive in guns blazing.”

The Captain weighed Vesa up carefully, her initial impression he was a child bore up when looking at him in the flesh. Barely 1.2Metres tall, with a shock of mousey brown hair and scruffy clothing, he could easily pass for a human child of about 8.

“Seventeen years, Ma’am,” he admitted. “I come to full maturity next year.”

It was not as bad as she had feared. “Why were you out here, without supervision?”

“We are a cadet training squadron. I was on my last test before being assigned to a defence squadron,” he explained.

The Captain smiled at him. “The best talent for a commander, Lieutenant,” she advised, “is not to not make mistakes but to extract yourself from them in good order. That is right isn’t it Colonel?”

The Colonel in his turn smiled, it was a rule he had offered to the Captain months ago. “Indubitably, Ma’am!” he agreed amiably.

“If you want more good advice on the subject, you should ask Colonel Samuels,” she whispered conspiratorially. “He has taught me!”

Vesa eyed the Colonel again, he was still at attention his hand still on the long blade at his side. He suspected the tall man could teach him a lot of things.

“In the mean time, I’ll have Ensign Kim show you the ship,” the Captain announced, calling for Kim to join them in the Ready Room.

“He can answer any questions you have about us,” she claimed as Ensign Kim appeared in the doorway.

“I don’t think I am impressed. What are your impressions, Colonel?” she quizzed quietly as they disappeared. “I know you’ve formed one.”

“I don’t think we have the key yet, Ma’am,” he opined. “Even if he was supposed to be in sole charge of a flight. I don’t see somebody just letting him fly off without some sort of watch to prevent him getting into trouble.”

“I agree. When you see Seven see if she knows about the people of Komos. I assume you will be there when she comes out of regeneration?”

The Colonel grinned sheepishly. “Of course, Ma’am. But if Lieutenant Paris has achieved what she said she would, then Mrs Nine won’t be out of regeneration for another couple of hours.”

Voyager was a marvel to Vesa, he found himself gazing at everything he saw in awe. From the advanced Astro-Navigation suite to the warp drive engines. The Imperial fleet had light drives but they were inferior by far to the system aboard this alien vessel. In comparison they were large, temperamental and potentially lethal. The tiny unit aboard Voyager was producing nearly as much power as a Star Drive on a battleship and the people were milling around it as if there was no danger involved. He wondered how quickly the technology could be used for Komos needs.

In Astrometrics Ensign Kim had patiently explained where Voyager was from and where it had started from in the Delta Quadrant. At first he had been sceptical about how far they had travelled but now appreciated how far people could fly in a vessel like this.

Now he was going over his thoughts in the Mess with Ensign Kim, with Neelix enthusiastically supplying coffee.

“We rescued him from a ship after it was attacked by the Borg,” Kim explained. “He is also from Earth, but from our past. It is quite a complicated story.”

Kim stiffened uneasily. It was not an easy question to answer, unlike Neelix and Seven, the Colonel still had no explicit role aboard the ship. “He try’s to make himself useful,” he offered lamely, then tried to explain the answer. “He does not understand the technology, simply finds ways of using it. Sometimes it makes him look simple, other times gifted. Like the sword. He has tried our weapons, but thinks the ones he uses are more effective.”

Again Ensign Kim shifted uncomfortably. “In his hands. Yes!” He agreed. “Then there is his wife.”

Kim nodded warming to a well worn theme. “The most beautiful woman aboard and the most unobtainable. I should know I tried to date her. She was a Borg..”

“A Borg!” Vesa almost shouted in shock, interrupting a well versed litany from the Ensign.

“She must not be discovered on Komos,” Vesa urged. “We have been raided by the Borg for over one hundred years! She will be arrested and tried if she is discovered.”

The young mans sudden revelation alarmed Ensign Kim and he leapt from his seat. “We had better see the Captain!”

“I have been inefficient,” Seven of Nine complained as the Colonel offered her a supporting hand to step from her alcove. “I have neglected to review the results of my tests in Science Lab 3.”

Silently the Colonel offered her two PADDS. “Don’t understand a word of them,” he admitted happily, “But I think they are the results you were waiting for.”

Silently she scanned the contents before throwing them onto the computer console in frustration. “My nano-probes will prevent a child forming. I will not be able to reproduce,” she exclaimed in sudden passion.

She reached out for the cold comfort of the console to steady herself as her disappointment hit her harder than she had ever felt emotions before. It was the Colonel that her hand found and he griped it hard, before pulling her to his chest and wrapping his arms around her.

“I wish to reproduce. I wish to extend the Samuels Collective,” she blurted.

He cradled her firmly in his arms. “It will be okay,” he whispered, kissing her frantically on the forehead. “Just let yourself go. I will always be here for you.”

“That will be ineffective. I cannot maintain the Collective! I am unrepairable,” She claimed desperately.

“The only Collective we need at the moment is us,” he replied, keeping his voice soft despite the alarm he was feeling. “The rest will wait.”

They stood there for over 20 minutes, the Colonel physically holding Seven of Nine upright as her emotions burnt themselves out on his shoulder.

“Janeway to the Colonel. Report to my Ready Room!” The Captain voice sounded on his intercom.

He growled in irritation at the interruption and spared a hand to pull the badge from his chest and dropped it on the console behind him.

Turning whilst still holding Seven, he brought his fist down hard upon the device. It no longer made a sound.

The last sound that the Captain heard was a crackle over her intercom as the Colonel’s badge smashed.

“Computer, what was the last location of the Colonel?” she demanded in alarm.

She turned on Ensign Kim and Vesa. “Stay here until I get back!” she demanded and darted for the door.

Entering the Bridge at the run, she snapped, “Tuvok, you’re with me. Kim, secure the Cargo Bays. Tom, delay our approach to Komos.”

“Captain, where are we going?” Tuvok asked calmly as he waited for the lift to open.

“Cargo Bay 2,” she panted. “Something is wrong there and I don’t know what. Somebody destroyed the Colonel’s comm badge.”

The doors open and she was running again until she came to the heavy cargo bay door, there she stopped, afraid at what she was going to find inside. She was terrified, what of she did not know. But for the Colonel to lose his comm badge, or not reply, even to say he was going to be delayed for a while, then what ever it was was serious, potentially even lethal.

Tuvok, catching some of his Captains alarm, opened the door for her as soon as he caught up and they both entered phasors in hand. They found the Colonel sitting on a container, cradling Seven of Nine in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder, asleep.

He looked up at them as the darted in, his face full of pain and despair, “Sshh!” he whispered. “She is asleep!”

They stopped and stared at him incredulously. “Why didn’t you answer my hail?” the Captain demanded furiously. “Why did you destroy the comm badge? What happened?” she added, spotting the remains of the instrument on the console.

He glared at her, his own temper on a short fuse. “Because it was inopportune!” he hissed coldly. “My wifes needs are greater than yours at present. If you will excuse me. Now you have unlocked the doors, I will take her to our quarters!”

“I’ll send the Doctor,” the Captain announced quickly. “Then I want a report.”

The Colonel glared at her again, his face hardening to the point of fury. “I will not let him past the door, Ma’am. If you want a report you may accompany me.”

She had never seen the Colonel look so angry before. Stunned by the hostility, she simply nodded and stood aside as the Colonel gently carried Seven of Nine out of the bay.

“Tell the Doctor,” she whispered to Tuvok as the Colonel passed out the door, “he may be needed. But I’m not sure who for.” Then hurried after the Colonel.

She was allowed to watch him gently lay Seven of Nine on the bed and cover her gently with the duvet, then he bundled her out the room and turned to face her. His face softening as the door close behind him.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am!” He declared in more neutral tones. “I supplied her with her test results. They weren’t the ones she wanted!”

He turned and slammed his fist into the wall in a sudden bought of frustration, then again as his own emotions caught up with him. Then he leaned against the wall, burying his head in his arm. “If I wasn’t so thick I would have understood the damned results!” he sighed in a broken voice.

“She was so counting on them being positive. I don’t know what to do next!”

The Captain put her arm around him, trying to comfort the soldier. She had seen him like this before and it was terrifying. His devotion to the care of others, particularly Seven of Nine, was about the only thing that could break him. “She would have found out,” she whispered.

“Not if I had understood the results!” he wept. “I would have done anything to prevent her. Even falsifying them if I had to!”

“Would you like me to see if there was a flaw in her tests?” the Captain asked gently.

He considered the proposal carefully before replying. “There is already a flaw in them, Ma’am. She carried them out. I think telling her her tests were flawed would cause more harm,” he sighed, then rallied. “I will find a way to put her back together again. I think we may ask to leave the ship, at least for a little while. If we can’t have the first item on her wish list, the next will be even more important. I intend her to have that whatever it costs!”

The grin that accompanied the statement was desperate, but the Captain knew what he meant. Seven was fascinated by the physics of the Universe, the life forms that inhabited it were largely an irrelevant inconvenience.

She did not like the answer. She did not doubt that the Colonel meant it and would probably achieve it for a long time, but they needed other things in their life. But it was unlikely she would get him to change his mind if he had set it.

“This is not a good place for an ex-Borg to be!” She warned. “Vesa has told me that any Borg are summarily tried and executed if they are caught. I don’t think even you can provide the protection she will need.”

“If they are as professional as Lieutenant Vesa, I am less than worried,” he growled.

“Sit with her for as long as you want,” she suggested gently. “I will not let anybody interfere. I know it looks bad now. Remember, Seven is tougher than you are in these circumstances. She will recover, because you will make sure she does. Just remember there are others aboard the ship who will help put you together as well!”

He nodded unhappily. “I’m sorry, Ma’am. I have allowed my emotions to take control,” he bowed to her and re-entered his quarters.

There he dragged a chair beside the bed and settled uncomfortably into it, grasping Seven of Nine’s hand as he waited.

She barely noticed Ensign Kim and Lieutenant Vesa still waiting as instructed, until Kim coughed politely.

She turned to them cautiously. “I will keep Seven away from Komos!” She announced. “Harry, look after our guest, until we can return him. Dismissed.”

As they left she summoned Chakotay and Tuvok to her room. When they entered she bade them to sit and briefly went over what had transpired between her and the Colonel and Vesa’s warning.

“The Colonel is desperate for her to forget the problem,” she finished. “If that means he thinks she needs to leave the ship so that she can do it, then he will take her. I don’t know how to stop him!”

“Do you think there is a possibility Seven made a mistake in her testing?” Chakotay asked hopefully.

“Basically the Colonel is correct in his assumption,” Tuvok commented. “Until she met the Colonel, Seven of Nine’s interests were entirely in astronomical studies. I will endeavour to find a suitable subject. Perhaps we can keep Seven busy?”

The Captain favoured him with a grateful smile. “Do it!” she urged. “I will go through Seven’s tests and see if there is a possibility of error. But just remember we are going to have to play this the way the Colonel plays us, with the subtlety of a Ferrengi Grand Negis.”

Seven of Nine stirred from her sleep slowly, gently stretching from her curled up position. The Colonel sensing the movement, snapped alert from his own light doze and watched her intently, sliding off his chair and kneeling beside her ready for anything. She still looked a mess from the crying, her eyes red and puffy.

“Feeling better?” he asked, as her eye’s finally opened and fixed upon his worried face.

His brow crinkled quizzically. “I think we could reasonably say you had an emotional overload,” he agreed gently. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

He shrugged. “It has never done any harm and your tolerance to alcohol is too low for a ‘Wassa’.”

“It starts as tea, then is laced with rum. Hence it ‘Was a’ cup of tea. Quite fortifying,” he explained.

“Are you sure?” He asked quietly. “It almost put the Captain on her back when I gave her one!”

“I am already on my back,” she pointed out matter of factly. “I am unable to fall further.”

He smiled, Seven of Nine was coming back to life, demanding to try things that were outside of her experience. “Suit yourself,” he agreed turning to the replicator.

She watched cautiously as he poured two mugs of tea, then decanted a small quantity of dark fluid from a bottle he retrieved from a draw. He handed a mug to her and took a swig at his own. With some trepidation she sniffed at her cup. It did smell different beneath the alcohol, slightly richer, she decided, then took a brave sip and coughed as it burnt her mouth, not just from the temperature.

“As I said. Your tolerance for alcohol is too low for a Wassa,” he claimed as she settled back onto the bed.

“The flavour and after effects were unexpected, my tolerance to alcohol is not at question!” she exclaimed, her voice slurring a little.

“You want to try more?” he offered the mug back to her. She shook her head, then regretted it, the Colonel’s high powered 120% proof rum was having an effect on it already, it felt loose.

That felt altogether more acceptable, she decided and pulled him down to do repeat the exercise.

“I’m still on duty,” he whispered, feeling himself give way to her gentle pulling.

“I won’t leave you alone,” he promised, giving in and taking her in an embrace. “I love you too much to do that!”

They lay, wrapped in each others arms, for another thirty minutes without speaking, simply finding comfort in each others presence.

Finally Seven broke the peace. “I am still be unable to reproduce. Do you wish to maintain our collective?”

He took her head and held it, forcing her to look him in the eyes. “You have got yourself closer to me and made me happier than anybody in God-only-knows years. I’m not going to let that go, just because we might not have children!” He said firmly, locking his eyes on hers. “I can only interact with the here and now. What tomorrow will bring I will leave to the Lord and schemers with ambition and deal with it when it arrives. You are my ‘here and now’, it is all I need and want!”

There was no dispute in the voice, simple, forcefully put and satisfactory, Seven decided. “You should return to your duty,” she stated. “I am sufficiently recovered. I shall resume my testing.”

“Just wait for a while. All you are doing is going round in circles, it is making you think you are less than you are! Nothing is worth that much pain. Give them a rest and see what inspiration tomorrow brings?” he continued more gently. “Besides we may have a chance to get away for a while on Komos.”

“Komos,” Seven of Nine repeated, matching the term with her memories. “Species 10032. Dwarf race. Technologically inferior. Assimilated occasionally for use as repair drones. Their short stature and strength makes them suitable for duties in parts of vessels not normally accessible. I can not go to Komos, they terminate drones they capture.”

“You are not a drone,” the Colonel pointed out. “You are my wife. Termination will not be an option for them!”

He looked at his watch. “Posted duty was completed two minutes ago,” he proclaimed happily. “I am now at the disposal of the superior officer present. Your instructions, Ma’am?”

She looked at him in puzzlement for five seconds as she worked out what he meant, then relaxed. “Your orders were to care for me?”

She considered that statement for a moment. Under the circumstances the Colonel probably had not given the Captain much choice.

“You will continue to care for me for 1.63 hours!” she announced. “You may then assist me in my maintenance rounds.”

Three hours later Captain Janeway ordered them to attend her Ready Room. She finished reading a PADD at her desk before glancing up and smiling. They could almost be two peas in a pod when they were stood beside each other like that, she decided. Both were ram rod straight, hands clasped firmly behind their backs, legs slightly apart, looking straight ahead.

She was, for her part, slightly nervous about how she was going to present her orders. She had spent nearly thirty minutes in consultation with Chakotay and Tuvok over how to propose the task. The advice she took in the end was Tuvoks; Be blunt.

“I have decided we are going to Komos to see if we can gain materials to complete our repairs,” She announced. “But it could be dangerous for Seven to be found. They have a thing about Borg. So Tuvok has found something slightly better. There is a magnetic anomaly approximately six light years ahead. We don’t know what it is, but it is on our flight path. I Want you two to check it out? It will save time and give you something interesting to do, if there is a problem at either end we can collect you on the way.”

“Acceptable,” Seven responded immediately. “The Colonel believes I have devoted too much time to my immediate quest and it is impairing my performance.”

She opened with another smile. “Excellent! You can go as soon as you can load the shuttle.”

Seven turned sharply and left, leaving the Colonel behind for a moment. “Permission to speak, Ma’am?”

“I was going to try and bluff you into volunteering Seven,” she admitted in embarassement, “But Tuvok suggested making it into an order. We could never bluff you into volunteering, if it wasn’t dangerous.”

“I wondered, Ma’am,” he admitted with a wry grin. He slammed to attention, saluted then turned on his heal and rapidly followed Seven of Nine.

Six hours and much frantic scrounging from Seven of Nine for any parts she might need, the Colonel’s favoured shuttle, the Valorian Starfighter, took to the air with the Colonel at the controls.

The craft itself was a very different ship to how it started life. In the six months Voyager had been in the void, Seven of Nine and B’Elanna Paris, fired by boredom, had systematically stripped the equipment inside and replaced it. Changing it’s nature from fighter to small, but competent, exploration ship. In many ways it was now far superior to the Delta Flyer, losing only in outright speed and accommodation, three people aboard was now definitely considered cramped. Seven of Nine was particularly proud of the new science and astro-navigation suite. She had modelled it upon her astro-metrics suite aboard Voyager, smaller and not as powerful, it could still pinpoint its position within a 300 light year radius and possessed a sensor suite that could detect more than thirty million anomalous ‘features’, as such it was superior to any sensor suite fitted to a shuttle and more than a few Star Ships.

The Colonel for his part, preferred the small vessel simply because he found the controls more natural to use, preferring the feel of a flight stick, throttle and rudder controls, to the Flyers touch sensitive displays. He also didn’t get Lieutenant Paris’s accusing stare and worried glances if he was at the controls. The Flyer was the Lieutenant’s toy, he worried about the scratches, the Captain had commented in amusement when Tom Paris had inspected it carefully after a particularly fraught training flight with the Colonel at the controls.

“Course 300.120Zee35, Warp 3,” Seven of Nine instructed settling to her console. Preferred or not, the Colonels take-offs could still be uncomfortable.

“Course 300.120Z35, laid in and set. Engaging Warp 3, Ma’am!” The Colonel parroted confirmation to his mission commander. “Estimated arrival 49 hours.”

He turned in his seat to look at her concentrating on her controls. “If you’ve left the gas on in quarters it is now too late to remember,” he commented cheerfully.

“A turn of phrase,” he apologised. “People always forget something vital when they go on holiday. The gas, the milk deliveries, the cat, there is always something.”

“We do not posses any of those things. Nor are we on ‘holiday’. We are performing a scientific expedition,” she pointed out. “My preparations were efficient. We have forgotten nothing. In the unlikely event we have forgotten something essential the replicator system aboard this vessel is capable of producing it.”

“Of course it can,” he agreed. “But it is nice to know we don’t have to back again, unless we want to?”

She caught the suggestion. “You wish to leave Voyager?” She demanded quickly.

He shrugged. “I go where I’m told to go. Those are my orders. My home is with you.”

He smiled and returned to his own instruments, leaving her to make her own conclusion. Seven of Nine had faith in everything technological. Why she put as much faith in her husband was another mystery, he was anything but technological.

“Your suggestion has merit,” Seven said a few moments later, briefly looking up from her instruments.

“I hope they remember they have a home here!” the Captain murmured to Chakotay as they watched the small craft disappear. “I hope we are doing the right thing!”

“They will be back,” Chakotay assured her. “The Colonel left his ‘Colours’ with you. Has he ever explained what they mean to you?”

The face that appeared on the screen was not dissimilar to Vesa’s, she noted. He looked like a young child and just as untidy, his shirt appeared to be done up incorrectly, his hair a mop.

“I am Captain Kathryn Janeway,” she intoned, “Commander of the Federation Star Ship Voyager. We request permission to enter orbit, barter for materials to repair our ship and return a member of your air force to you. A Lieutenant Vesa?”

The small figure nodded. “I am General Hallock, Captain. I am aware of the circumstances of Lieutenant Vesa’s presence aboard your ship. I apologise for his attack upon your vessel. He will be punished.” His voice sounded high enough for a child as well.

“He caused no damage,” the Captain responded hurriedly. “We would not have come close enough to make contact otherwise.”

I will consider your plea on his behalf Captain,” he assured her. “I will supply coordinates for landing. You will be permitted to send small party’s of your crew for recreational purposes.”

“Thank you. We will look forward to it,” she thanked him. “Janeway out.”

Two hours later, Captain Janeway in the company of Tuvok, B’Elanna and Vesa beamed to the coordinates supplied. They were met by a contingent of twenty dwarfs, none more than 1.4 metres tall. The Captain recognised the foremost as the one that had identified himself as General Hallock and was still untidy.

“These guards will escort Lieutenant Vesa into custody,” he waved to a group of eight Komon’s. They were obviously guards of some sort, she decided; they wore uniforms. But the similarity ended there, guards even in Star Fleet managed to keep their tunics done up correctly. For once she was glad the Colonel was not with them. She could almost see the look he would give them, it was bad enough when he glared at security, the glare here would melt them.

She looked down on him with a jaundiced eye. “I was hoping you would assign him as our guide?” she confided hopefully. “We don’t want to do anything against your customs and offend people!”

The General looked keenly at Vesa. “You can face your trial later,” he declared. “You will be their liaison! Take them to the citadel.”

“I’m glad the Colonel isn’t here,” B’Elanna whispered to Tuvok as they were escorted away by their shambling guards. “He would have a fit at this lot!”

“I am in agreement,” Tuvok admitted. “It might however prevent him attempting to smarten security.”

They found themselves in a large comfortably furnished room. Unusually for such a seemingly dwarf race, it bad plenty of head room. It was comforting after having to bow almost double to get through some of the doors they had encountered.

“We have some visitors over 3 metres tall,” Vesa apologised over the high ceilings. “Will you be comfortable here?”

He nodded. “Mistakes are not tolerated. I will lose my place in the air force at least. Thank you for asking for me to be your helper.”

He looked as if he would add more, but stopped himself as General Hallock returned with another party. This time they were bearing trays of food and drink.

“Please make yourselves comfortable. We always try to make our guests comfortable,” he urged, signalling for the trays to be placed on the small coffee tables. He took a small armchair for himself and helped himself from the delicacies piled upon the tray in front of him.

“Please, Captain, tell me about your ship and why you are in our space?” he asked, spraying crumbs.

The Captain and her Away Team relaxed into chairs and started to enthral the small General with their journey.

“You mean you have beaten the Borg every time you have faced them?” The General asked at the end. “Even captured one of their number?”

Captain Janeway considered the questions carefully before replying. “I don’t think we have ever beaten them,” she said carefully. “We have simply never been caught. As for Seven of Nine, she joined us. She has some Borg implants still, but otherwise she is much Borg as you are. In fact one of our party married her!”

General Hallock grinned. “Lieutenant Vesa told you we try then execute any Borg we capture and you are trying to protect the one you have? I will meet it and decide for myself whether that is necessary.”

“I sent her on a short exploration expedition out of your sector. There is an anomaly some six light years away that we find interesting. We will pick them up again when we leave,” the Captain breezed. “We are an exploration vessel and it is in our directives not to offend races, if at all possible. But you are welcome to visit our ship. I understand you are attacked periodically by the Borg?”

General Hallock nodded. “For over three hundred years we have been periodically raided. But we know how to deal with them now. They still try, but they haven’t taken many for many years,” he explained. “May I bring some of my officers to see your vessel, it may help us to devise new defensive measures? We will of course reciprocate for your crew?”

“Also if you can make up a list of what you need for repairs Vesa will try find our equivalents? Now, I suppose you will wish to return to your vessel? You are welcome to visit our planet at anytime.”

The Away Team was escorted back to their arrival point. The General waited until they had dematerialised before turning to Vesa. “Send vessels to track the Borg and its craft,” he demanded.

The shuttle bearing the Colonel and Seven of Nine had an uneventful, but not dull, journey. Characterised by companionable silence and gentle affections, as they took turns to monitor their small ships progress and each other. The Colonel was still worried about Seven of Nine’s seemingly obsessive desire to breed. Her recovery also made him ill at ease, it promised problems for the future. As it was not causing problems for the time being he put it aside.

Hoping to keep their quiet mission that way, they approached their target location with some caution. Both were examining their instruments carefully. Seven of Nine trying to ascertain the nature of the fluxes that they had come to investigate, deftly switching between sensor configurations, the Colonel simply trying to avoid anything they might meet.

They both spoke up simultaneously as they both came to a conclusion about their readings, drowning each other out.

“The magnetic fluxes we are investigating are not natural,” Seven of Nine repeated. “They are being amplified.”

He grunted an acknowledgement. “Wouldn’t form some form of pen for a number of broken ships, would it?” he asked. “I have at least fifty appearing on the screen.”

“Perhaps,” Seven of Nine agreed, rapidly resetting her instruments. “We should move closer to investigate.”

The Colonel applied power dutifully and allowed their small ship to drift towards the suspect dots that showed on his proximity screen. He felt himself tense as they flew closer, now he was checking through the cockpit windows as often as he was checking the screens, his hands gripping and re- griping the controls, ready for an immediate response to whatever came next. There was something wrong and he did not know what it was, it was a situation he did not like.

“I have detected 330 vessels,” Seven of Nine reported. “Many are of a form I recognise, including a Federation Star Ship, others are unknown.”

“Is there anything there to prevent us getting clear again?” he asked before complying.

“No,” she decreed. “I will track the density of the flux and advise if it increases beyond our engines endurance.”

“Negative, the flux is affecting our transmissions,” she reported after a couple of moments.

“Okay, you’re the boss!” he sighed closing the gap between them and the trapped ships.

“There are many vessels displaying low power signatures and life support,” she commentated as they closed. “I can detect no life signs. Many vessels display the signs of having been attacked.”

It looked familiar to the Colonel, though he was certain he had never seen it before. A saucer section sat upon a thick neck, the neck in turn was attached to a cylinder, two smaller cylinders were sat upon spindly stems attached to the rear of the cylinder.

Seven of Nine looked up from her instruments. “Early Federation Excelsior Class Star Ship,” she confirmed. “In it’s time the most powerful vessel in the Alpha quadrant, now considered almost defunct. Compliment 520. There are no life signs, life support minimal. Power readings suggest the vessel has been deactivated for storage. There is no serious damage apparent.”

“Scorch marks on the top of the saucer, would that be about the Bridge?” The Colonel asked.

He pivoted around the ship and they passed the lower side. Apart from more scorch marks there appeared to be no serious damage.

“Can you tell what they could have been hit with?” the Colonel asked eventually.

“The effects have dissipated,” Seven of Nine proclaimed. “The scorch marks may be produced by almost any energy based weapon. They may have been trapped by the magnetic fluxes, though that seems unlikely at current levels.”

“I suppose we could go and have a look?” he offered unenthusiastically. His sixth sense was still screaming of danger, but he could not find it.

“I’ll bring us down just beside the ‘neck’ on the saucer,” the Colonel announced. “I don’t want to leave our transport floating around. There is something not quite kosher here.”

Seven of Nine beamed them both to Engineering and immediately set about inspecting the control consoles, whilst the Colonel inspected the surrounds.

“The ship was powered down systematically,” Seven of Nine reported. “There is sufficient power to make the vessel operational.”

“And there was a very brief fire fight,” the Colonel added, indicating two faint shadows on the floor. “Who ever they were fighting were pretty good, they appear to have come from a direction they weren’t expecting. Certainly not through the door.”

He looked up and spotted an open ventilation duct displaying more scorch marks and grinned. “But perhaps not that good? I think we visit the Mess and the Bridge, in that order.” He turned for the door.

“I fail to see the logic in going to the Mess,” Seven of Nine argued, hurrying after him.

“Because it will be on the way and we will get some idea of how quickly they were attacked,” the Colonel explained. “If the dishes are still in place, the ship was overpowered quickly. If they are across the floor, there was a hell of a fight. If there are none at all they knew what was coming or whoever took it have had a hell of a cleaning spree. Remember how many there are in Neelix’s Mess at all hours, there will be more on a ship this size.”

The Colonel was correct. The Mess showed signs of having been in use immediately prior to the attack, there were over a dozen plates still on the tables, though there was no food upon them.

“Orderly evacuation,” he mused. “Nobody was in a hurry, so they finished their meals first. Come on, the Bridge. We’ll see if you can break into the logs?”

The Bridge looked as if there had been a fight, all be it brief. Five small shadows showed the signs of the end of at least five people, attackers or crew it was impossible to tell. Again Seven of Nine settled at a terminal whilst the Colonel investigated everything else, before finally settling into the large armchair that dominated the centre of the derelict bridge. Quietly he slid his hand down the side of the cushion and traced its line and found a small object. He pulled it out, a key, possibly to a strong box. He gazed at it, as if it was going to tell him everything he wanted to know.

“I have deciphered the logs, They are damaged but largely recoverable.” Seven of Nine interrupted his reverie. “The Captain was Captain Mike Hannah, the ship the USS Argonaut. They were captured fifty years ago.”

“The people of Komos seem remarkably friendly and contrite about their attack upon us,” the voice of Hannah played for them. “We were well entertained by Lieutenant Vesa and General Hallock and have brought several parties aboard to return the favour. We are almost ready to resume our journey home after recharging our batteries.”

“All’s well so far, if a little familiar. I wonder of Vesa is a common name? But you have more to play?” the Colonel suggested.

“Commander Morris and his party have disappeared on shore leave. He has not been happy with our progress for sometime. I wonder if he has decided to remain with our beneficent hosts rather than take on what still remains a long and possibly fruitless voyage.”

“Commander Adamskov has discovered a number of stowaways from Komos led by Lieutenant Vesa. I am having them brought to the Bridge to find out why, before we leave. We still have not found Morris and his party. General Hallock has advised us that they have asked to stay. He has accepted their request.”

“Tuvok would describe that as vague and circumstantial,” the Colonel mused. “What do you think?”

“So do I,” the Colonel agreed, still looking at the key in his hand. “But I think Hannah was careless. Fortunately Captain Janeway is more careful than he was, she would never lose the key for the destruct switch. And she is confident enough to realise that missing crew is not abandonment. Let us hope that they think she is like him. Shall we go?”

Fifteen minutes later the Colonel was launching their ship from the underside of the old Star Ship.

“There is another vessel moving!” Seven of Nine warned. “It appears of similar construction to the Komos fighter.”

The Colonel responded immediately, bringing their ship back into close proximity with the larger vessel. “Have they detected us?” he asked quickly.

“Negative. We are being masked by the Argonaut,” Seven of Nine affirmed. “I will advise on a suitable evasion course as their course becomes clear.”

Thirty minutes later Seven of Nine piped up again. “Another small vessel has entered the area, six other vessels are taking station around the anomaly. We will not be able to escape undetected.”

Again she checked her instruments. “We would be faster, but we would be within weapons range for 10.3 minutes. We may not survive the engagement.”

“You intend to ask them to move?” Seven of Nine queried, the eyebrow moving.

He did not answer immediately, but sat and thought. “Could we get this tub moving?” he asked quietly, pointing at the Argonaut.

“You are intending to use the ship as a decoy?” Seven asked, considering the question. “It would require several hours, we would be detected.”

“Actually I was going to blow a hole through them,” he claimed, waving the key he had found. “How about if I gave them the run-around?”

“I will check. You need to take course 39.24Z13. One quarter impulse to avoid detection.”

“Roger, Ma’am,” he agreed launching their craft again. Out the corner of his eye he saw the stern of a small fighter nosing its way past another of the derelicts.

“There is a Hirogen ship 300Km on the port bow. The engines are still powered,” Seven volunteered. “I believe I can guide you there without being detected?”

An hour later the shuttle was in close contact with the Hirogen and Seven of Nine was studying her readouts closely. “Some damage to the part engine, the control room has been significantly damaged. No life signs. It will be adequate.”

She considered the prospect carefully, the Colonel’s protection would be a benefit, his technical expertise would not. “Assistance to redirect controls will not be required,” she decided. “You will need to keep our ship masked.”

She nodded at him, clipped her belt around her waist, followed by a tricorder and phasor and beamed out. The Colonel redirected his screens to the task of tracking the ships that were searching for them.

Seven of Nine scanned her beam down site carefully. The instruments aboard the Valorian shuttle had claimed there were no dangers aboard, but she had learnt some of the Colonel’s caution in these circumstances. Satisfied that there was no immediate danger she made her way towards the engineering section.

The room, like the rest of the ship, was devoid of signs of life. Several consoles were damaged, but they did not appear to be critical. She set to work. The longest and most difficult operation was to gain navigation control from engineering. It was there she started, accessing the inside of several control panels and performing rapid reprogramming.

Twenty minutes later, she felt the familiar itching of the Colonel contacting her using their implants. He must have moved the shuttle, she decided. The Borg implant inserted in the back of his head had a very short range, less than 50 Metres normally.

“They have got their act together. They are now running a coordinated search,” he advised. “You have about fifteen minutes.”

“Roger. I will keep an eye on them and turn everything off, if they look as if they might see us.”

She returned her concentration to her reconfiguration tasks. Gaining final control of navigation was proving more difficult than she anticipated.

She left engineering, her tricorder in hand and headed towards the control room. Scanning the course of the various circuits as she walked. She found a likely junction box and examined the circuits before confidently resuming her reworking.

A short while later she felt a new signal. She stopped for a moment to consider it. It was a type she had not received for many months and it sent a chill through her. A Borg vessel was approaching.

The realisation left her uncertain as to how to proceed. If she used her implant to warn the Colonel, the Brog would detect it. If she used her communicator, the Korans would. She returned to her task with renewed vigour, hoping that the Colonel would detect the presence of something new.

She completed her tasks with three minutes to spare and settled to wait nervously for the Colonel’s next instruction, still not daring to try and transmit a warning.

The Colonel had reviewed his position carefully. Unlike the larger Argonaut, the Hirogen ship was largely devoid of nooks and ledges to hide a large shuttle in or behind. It meant that the Valorian shuttle was hidden purely by the virtue of being a black ship attached to a black hull, in silhouette it would show, even if he turned the power off. The realisation forced him to slide into Seven of Nine’s station and investigate the other local options. He was by no means an expert on the advanced sensor suite, but he could manage the imaging equipment.

He used it to examine the three nearest vessels in detail. The first he examined looked like a huge ‘breeze’ block. He estimated it was well over half mile tall, perhaps two long. His analogy with a breeze block proved accurate. There was a large hole in the side. Quickly he identified it’s position and course, then slipped back to his seat to check on the progress of the other vessels.

Quickly he extended the sensor range to find them. They were sailing away, even the stray sensor signals from the guard ships were thin enough not to detect the stealthy Valorian fighter. He sighed with relief, and slowly applied power to launch his craft at the hole he had found. Too much power and the movement would be detected, not enough and he would not reach his target before the enemy returned. It was a fine balancing act, that had him controlling direction, thrust and the antics of the enemy with full concentration. He did not pick up the signals Seven of Nine had identified.

What he did pick up was the Koran fighters turn to begin their return search and he applied a little more power to hit the gap in the block shaped vessel before he was detected, finally slipping in just before they came in range of their sensors.

The gap proved to be a large hold, with exits at both sides of the vessel. A number of large containers were still located inside and he brought his craft to rest beside one of those. Nobody would be able to detect his ship, unless they physically came inside, yet he could see most of what was happening outside. He checked his watch, it would be another 10 minutes at least before Seven of Nine’s estimate expired.

He was about to emerge from his hiding place again, when he spotted the Koran fighters heading directly for his hiding place. Quickly he brought the ship to a halt and waited for the indicator that would prove that he had been detected, hands held over the weapons controls.

They streaked past less than 100 miles away without detecting him. In fact, apart from high exhaust emissions, the Colonel picked up no transmissions of any sort from the two ships as they sped past.

Puzzled, he slid forward again to confirm the readings. There was still nothing. Cautiously he slid the craft clear of its hiding place. It was there that he was hit by the sound of a million voices rattling inside his head. Mentally he reeled from the impact, as his own voices added to the chaos in his head. The analytical one calmly pointed out the danger from a Borg vessel. A more excited one shouted yelled at him to collect Seven of Nine and scram. A desperate one screamed for him to stop the noise. None were helpful.

With a supreme effort he examined the screens in front of him, trying to focus enough to find the Borg ship as his head swam from the noise. He picked up a fuzzy reading about 5000 miles away. He hoped it would be far enough away for him not to be detected and slid the shuttle towards the Hirogen ship with Seven of Nine aboard. At the same time he risked a communicator message to Seven.

“If you didn’t know already. We have Borg company, three ships, I think. The Komans have buggered off. I’m coming to collect. Why are they so noisy and how do I stop it?”

Seven of Nine’s response was thankful. She had also been alarmed at the level of overriding confusion that was being transmitted from the invading ships. “Affirmative. The vessels must be badly damaged for such extremes of transmission.”

“In the large locker behind my station there are neural suppressors, they may be sufficient to dampen the interference,” she continued calmly. Imagination was still not her strong point, but from the level of confusion she could feel, she knew how the Colonel, unused to the collective mind and the continuous murmur it induced, must be struggling to control himself.

The Colonel reached for the locker Seven of Nine had identified and found the two devices she had described, found the switch on one and clamped it beside the implant on his neck. Immediately the noise was reduced to a level he could concentrate.

He inspected the screens again and picked up the course the three vessels were taking.

“Seven, they are coming to have a look at the derelicts. Lay low,” he ordered.

He turned everything he could off to cut his own transmissions and allowed his vessel to drift silently towards the Hirogen ship hiding Seven of Nine. Finally bringing it into contact with the vessel with a loud clang. The noise shook them both as it echoed around their respective ships, but it was not so hard it would be picked up by the Borg vessels.

They waited nervously, not daring to operate scanners or communicate with each other, for fear of the transmissions being picked up. Nor even being able to see their prospective foe. The only indication either of them had that the Borg were still in the area were the transmissions that they were both receiving and trying hard to ignore.

Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay dutifully bade farewell to one party, then welcomed yet another from Komos. General Hallock seemed to have a desire for everybody to inspect the foreign vessel. In the last three days over sixty dignitaries had appeared, been escorted around then sent home again with good wishes from the Captain. In addition the transporter logs had shown nearly 600 others had come aboard on other pretexts, science, cultural, noseyness. The Captain had left the task of controlling their activities to Tuvok, though the ineluctable Vulcan was now uncertain how many had come aboard and how many had departed. The transporter logs suggested that several more had left than had arrived, a situation that was impossible and he had been forced to carry out a physical head count in the transporter room every time parties came and went.

Nor had the hospitality been one way, nearly half the crew had had the opportunity to visit Komos and B’Elanna Paris had nearly all the materials she needed to finish repairs to the ship. Satisfied that all was now ready, the Captain was now anxious to set off on the journey home again and collect Seven of Nine and the Colonel, if they had not decided to branch off on their own.

“You must come to the formal ball!” General Hallock insisted. When she told him of her decision.

“You and your senior officers. We do not get many friendly visitors,” he added enthusiastically.

Thus it was she, Commander Tuvok, Lieutenants Vorick and Tom Paris and Neelix beamed down to Komos to attend the last function before they set off again. B’Elanna had elected to stay behind to finish her preparations in Engineering, Kim had volunteered to assist.

They were escorted to the reception room in which they had first been shown to on arrival. Only this time the comfortable furniture had been removed in favour of a large clear area and a table to seat fifty of the dwarf Komon’s plus their guests.

Seven of Nine felt the chaos in her mind slacken and relaxed a little as she recognised new commands amongst the melee. The Borg were pulling out and they had not detected the two humans. She risked a brief communicator message to the Colonel to translate the new orders and was relieved by his instant reply. It had been a lonely twenty hours with out his comforting presence, while the Borg had been investigating the stockpile of old ships.

Aboard the shuttle the Colonel immediately set to work. He initiated a quick sensor sweep that located the three Borg vessels and their course. It had him cursing and contacting Seven of Nine.

“Seven, get that ship moving. Do it slowly,” he demanded. “The Borg are heading for Komos, or too close for comfort. We have to get a message through to Voyager before they sail straight into them!”

“We will not be able to use communicators until the Borg reach Komos,” Seven of Nine pointed out, not to spoil the Colonel’s intentions, more to inspire him into some form of solution.

“Just get it moving with a constant acceleration. Set a course that is almost parallel to them but converging. If there are shields bring them up. When you are happy, shout and I will lift you out. We’ll worry about signalling Voyager later.”

“I am ready!” Seven of Nine reported fifteen minutes later. “I have configured the shields to initiate when the vessel has been detected.”

“Even better!” The Colonel agreed, activating the transporter to return her to the shuttle.

He met her as she expected, with open arms and a passionate kiss. She accepted and appreciated both. A quick glance around the cabin showed what the Colonel had been doing during their enforced idleness.

He had systematically emptied his pack, removing anything not required in battle, then repacked. He had also changed into full battle dress from his usual bottle-green suit. She guessed that the rest of the time he had used to clean and sharpen his weapons.

One other item came to her notice. A small casket sat beside her console, curiously she opened it.

“Why are these here?” She demanded in alarm as the Cathor Crystals glimmered at her.

He shrugged. “I was asked to put them somewhere safe. The Captain was not entirely happy about them being in the armoury and for obvious reasons she didn’t want them in her safe. I forgot to find another hiding place when I packed for this jaunt.”

“They are a danger to us,” she snapped. “If not directly, then if the Borg find them.”

“They aren’t supposed to be a problem while they are together and I think our ugly friends may be in more danger from them than we are. Simply because before they take them, I will break them apart again and throw them into the deepest and darkest corners of the cube I can find.” he vowed.

A warning light appeared on Seven of Nine’s console dragging her attention back to more immediate problems.

“The cube has detected the Hirogen vessel. Shields have activated,” She announced.

“They are trying to capture it,” Seven responded. “The Hirogen ship is captured in a tractor beam. We should disengage now.”

“Not yet. We would be sitting ducks. How long does it take to refocus the tractor beam?”

“We aren’t going to escape. We are hitching a ride. You said yourself before we can make contact with Voyager these ships will make the warning pointless. So I intend to attach us to the cube until we can make contact. We should be able to escape with the wreckage when they leave again,” the Colonel claimed confidently.

Seven of Nine considered the Colonel’s confidence as she watched her screens. It did not seem appropriate, but accepted the need to contact Voyager. It would be their two lives against the 150 aboard Voyager. It seemed a fair trade. She did not believe the Colonel would allow them to be taken and she was glad of that. She liked what she had too much to allow herself to become a drone again.

Immediately he released the docking magnets and powered the engines, slipping their small craft away from the Hirogen ship that had provided a surrogate home for them and out along the side of the cube.

“Fortunately the Borg are not big in windows,” he commented softly as he skimmed over the cube looking for a safe landing spot. “That will do!” He pointed at a crevice between two towers and brought them to a safe landing.

He grinned at her. “As soon as you can send a burst message to Voyager, then shut everything down. Are you hungry?”

“I do not require nourishment at this time,” Seven announced bluntly. “The cubes are going into transwarp now! Signal will be sent in one hour. Cube arrival in twenty. Voyager will have four hours to react.”

“So what would you like to do for nineteen hours?” The Colonel asked mildly an hour later, turning his seat around to face her. Their message had been despatched and they had still not been detected.

It was one of the two questions that Seven of Nine had posed to her herself at frequent intervals over the previous hour. The other was the probability of escape from the Borg when the journey was complete. The second looked exceptionally poor, even with the Colonel’s fabled survival instincts. It rather answered the first. She slipped from her seat and onto the Colonel’s lap.

“I wish to be assimilated by you,” she said quietly, then kissed him hard. “A may not get the opportunity again!”

The duty communications ensign picked up the burst transmission, noted that the sender was Seven of Nine and coded for the Captain and forwarded it. Seven and the Colonel were at least two days away. She did not remember it again for another hour when Chakotay came on the Bridge.

“Anything to report? Anything from the Captain and the ball?” He asked quietly.

“I wasn’t expecting anything from them for a couple more days. What did she say?” He asked mildly.

“I didn’t decode it,” the ensign admitted, then thought. “It did seem unusual. It was a burst transmission.”

She did so as quickly as she could, her embarrassment making her fumble, while Chakotay started to pace. Finally she completed the task, blanched and read off the message.

“There are three Borg cubes enroute to Komos. Arrival estimated 21:00,” She read.

Chakotay checked the chronometer. “Less than three hours!” He exclaimed in alarm. “Contact the Captain. Bring her back now!”

He hit his communicator. “All stations Red Alert. Ensign Kim to the Bridge!”

He thought for another moment, half the prime deck crew were on the planet, it left him short of pilot, tactical officer and Captain. “Dog Watch to the Bridge,” he added. They were the best and the most inventive team aboard the ship, they may need to be inventive.

Kim appeared from the turbo lift, rapidly followed by the Dog Watch. They were immediately turned on by Chakotay.

“Harry long range scans, look for a transwarp conduit or Borg vessels. Kala assist him and find the Captain,” Chakotay demanded. “Winston, take the Conn. Carver, take Ops. I want the Captain and Seven of Nine.”

“I’ve got the Colonel, Sir!” Carver reported a few minutes later. “Still trying to raise the Captain.”

Chakotay shot the ensign a grateful look and started to speak. “Status report, Colonel?”

The Colonel’s voice broke in. “We and our hosts will be over Komos in a about two hours, Sir. I intend to switch hosts when they have finished. You can come and collect us then.”

“Attached to the lead cube. Look, can we keep this short. They haven’t found us yet I want it to stay that way!”

“We can’t get hold of the Captain!” A stunned Chakotay blurted. “We can’t even detect her!”

“It figures. Your hosts aren’t all they claim. Get out of there Captain and watch your backs. Seven of Nine and I will find Captain Janeway. Ensign Carver, you play that tune again. I will break your neck! Out!”

“Sorry, Sir. The Colonel has terminated the communications,” Carver responded.

“I’ve found the conduit, Sir. Details passed to Conn. Still no trace of the Captain,” Ensign Kala reported.

“Evasion course plotted and laid in,” Ensign Winston advised a moment later. “We require 65 minutes to avoid detection.”

“Gives us twenty-five minutes before we need to break orbit, Sir!” Carver reported. “Increasing scan rates to accommodate.”

In bewilderment Chakotay looked around at the Dog Watch crew. As was always the case they had predicted the commands that would arise and were ready to execute them without question. All he needed was to give the command. He remembered the advice he had given to Harry Kim when he had commanded this watch, ‘It could either be the easiest or the hardest watch you’ll ever command.’ he had predicted. This was going to be the hardest he had ever taken, they were keeping him on track to make the right decision, even though it was going to be the hardest.

“Keep scanning until the last minute,” he commanded, then settled into his chair for an uncomfortable wait.

“What was the tune you played to get the Colonel’s attention?” He asked suddenly of Carver.

The Ensign smiled knowingly. “The British Grenadier, Sir. It irritates the Colonel immensely. Guaranteed to get a response.”

When the communications system had started to play ‘The Grenadier’, the Colonel was busy ejecting Seven of Nines probes, from his blood stream into a specimen jar. The previous twelve hours had revealed a side of Seven of Nine he had never realised existed. One that was desperate to experience human feelings of love and pleasure and magnified by the fear of being forced to rejoin the Borg. He was exhausted, he didn’t think she was in much better state. Certainly not by the probe count in the jar.

He collapsed in his chair and considered the next move. Up until now he had been reasonably confident they could escape the activities of the Borg over Komos. Now they had a new task, one that would bring them into direct contact with the enemy.

Seven of Nine dressed then joined him, sitting upon his lap and draping her slender arms around him.

“I think we may be biting off more than we can chew,” he commented, kissing her tenderly. “We have to rescue the Captain on a planet, I know nothing about, while keeping out of sight of not just the locals but the Borg as well! Any bright ideas?”

Seven of Nine smiled at him, a rare event. “I have observed your performance is superior when the circumstances become difficult. The degree of difficulty in this scenario is sufficient for you to be inspirational!” she declared.

“My greatest fan,” he grinned. “We have a couple of hours. Let’s see what we can come up with. First can we acquire some sort of map of Komos. Perhaps we can reduce the number of targets we have to cover?”

Captain Janeway, with General Hallock standing beside her, found that she had become the centre of attention of a small gathering of the diminutive Komon’s. It had been like that for nearly three hours. It was a group she had been hoping to lose so that the away team could return to Voyager. But every time she brought the subject of a diplomatic exit more of the dwarves appeared and a new discussion was started.

It was a happy General that turned back to the Captain. “Now I’m sure you wish to get underway, Captain Janeway!” He announced breezily. “We cannot detain you further. I have other duties to deal with. Lieutenant Vesa will escort you to your landing point.”

He left, almost hurriedly, the Captain thought in puzzlement. She chose to ignore any possible implications in favour of a quick exit, calling her party together and heading for the door.

“Why do they wish to dispose of us so quickly, Captain?” Tuvok asked quietly as a party of twenty Komos Soldiers fell in around them. “Until now they seemed to have a desire to detain us.”

“I don’t know,” the Captain admitted. “I think something has come up. I’m not complaining. I’ve been trying to get away for hours. I’m starting to hate diplomacy!”

They arrived at their beam down point and were surprised by another group of armed soldiers appearing around them.

“What is happening?” Tom Paris demanded in alarm as the company of soldiers levelled weapons at them.

“We have three Borg vessels orbiting the planet,” Vesa announced nervously. “We have come to an arrangement with them. You are the arrangement. Captain, remove your communications devices and order the rest of your crew to do the same.”

Vesa shrugged, but he was still nervous. “I am told they have done so for nearly a hundred years, Captain. We provide technology and people they are interested in and they do not take more than a few dozen of our people. They seem to be very interested in you and your ship. They responded as soon as we signalled them. They do not seem to want any of our people at all this time! Now please remove you communications devices, we will render you unconscious and take them if necessary.”

“I have detected the Captain!” Seven of Nine announced from her station. “They are in the company of at least twenty others, proceeding to point 113.456. There are an additional two hundred Komon’s there waiting for them.”

“Too many,” the Colonel muttered. He had been stood in the shuttles transporter zone for twenty minutes waiting to respond immediately when Seven of Nine detected the missing Voyager crew. “Can we beam them out before they get to the meeting place?”

The plan they had devised had been for the Colonel to intercept the Captain when they moved to their transport location, then to keep them hidden until she could safely beam them out. He had not expected them to be guarded by two full companies.

Seven of Nine checked her sensors again. “They have not emerged from the dampening field. A second field has been erected around the landing zone. I am unable to beam you close enough to intercept. I am attempting to modulate the frequencies to overcome it, however they are deploying multiple frequency modulation, it will require some time.”

“Curious,” she added. “The Borg have not sent drones to begin assimilation, nor is Komos offering resistance.”

He pulled his pack off and took the pilots seat. “Sounds as if they are dealing with them. We need plan ‘C’. If I can’t take out their guards and you can’t break their dampening, we might be pretty stuck. How about an air to ground attack?”

“We would be intercepted,” Seven of Nine pointed out calmly. “I have lost contact with the Away Teams communicators. They have been removed.”

The Colonel paused for thought before looking up again with another idea. “Can you put me where they are beamed to?”

Seven of Nine considered that question carefully. The implications were obvious. The Colonel was intending to take on the whole crew of a Cube. “Yes!” She admitted at last. “However the transport would be detected, subsequent transport will be blocked. I will not be able to bring you back. Nor will you be able to defend them for long. I am not prepared to remain here alone.”

He picked up the phial containing the probes he had extracted earlier and shook it at her. “Put these back in. We go together and we are going to become pirates,” he said simply.

She avoided asking the question about what he intended to steal only because her scans revealed a transport in progress. They also revealed something else.

The Captain looked around her when she materialised. Even if she had not known the fate awaiting her, she would recognise the dark surrounds and dull green lighting anywhere. A brief head count showed that the three remaining members of her party were also with her, as was Vesa.

“I thought you weren’t invited?” she growled at the unfortunate dwarf, grabbing him by the arm and shaking him.

“I’m sure there was a mistake. I will be released directly,” he stammered.

“The Borg do not admit to mistakes,” she snapped sourly. “They certainly won’t correct one. You are one of the damned as well.”

She turned to Tuvok, who was already examining their cell. “Anything?” She asked.

“Negative, Captain,” he reported mildly. “We have no weapons or tools. I may be able to deactivate the force field. However how we would proceed after that I am uncertain.”

“Keep on it. Tom and Vorick help him. We will deal with what to do afterwards. At least they don’t seem too interested in us at the moment.”

“We are the Borg. You will be assimilated, your racial distinctiveness will be added to the Collective and enhance our own. Resistance is futile!” The familiar litany played at them echoing through the ship, accompanied by screams.

“Put another record on!” Tom Paris shouted at the message, then turned apologetically to the Captain. “It sounds as if the Borg are taking hostages, Captain?”

They span around as the familiar hum of a transport in progress came from behind them. The transport revealed the slender figure of Seven of Nine and the rather more war like figure of the Colonel. His rifle already levelled and scanning the surrounds. It locked on Vesa.

“Start talking Lieutenant, before I splatter what you have across the bulkhead,” the Colonel barked. “Start with the other Federation Star Ship and how you people took it without a serious fight?”

Vesa looked around in alarm for somewhere to hide. Finding no where and the gaze of everybody upon him he started to speak.

“One hundred years ago the first Borg cube arrived. We had no defences against such a ship and they took over a million of our people. They came back a few years later, and again a few years later still. It was becoming a regular feature, they stole any advanced technology we had. Before we thought they were due again we trapped an alien vessel. It was more advanced than ours and we offered it to the Borg to leave us alone. It worked after a fashion, the numbers of our people they took were reduced to no more than a couple of hundred. It worked the next time as well, so we started to collect for them. The Star Ship you stumbled upon was captured in the same way yours will be. We stowed nearly two hundred warriors aboard the vessel. They will take control of key parts of the ship and force them to surrender. The ship and captive crew will be placed in orbit around the magnetic anomaly you went to investigate. Please don’t shoot me! I didn't know!”

“You may well be begging me to shoot you, Lieutenant. You aren’t 16 either, are you? I heard the Captains logs aboard Argonaut.”

Vesa shook his head. “I am 53 in your years, but our lives are much longer than yours. Our short stature makes people unfamiliar with our race believe we are younger. It was my father that helped take the Argonaut. Please I had nothing to do with it. I have only just found out the truth myself from the General!”

The Colonel glared at him for a few moments and watched him squirm. It satisfied him that he had received the truth. He lowered his rifle and stood stiffly, before saluting the Captain. “Sorry, Ma’am. But I had to get a better view of the truth.”

“Never mind. I have more pressing problems,” she snapped. “Why are you here and where is Voyager?”

“Mrs Nine and I are the rescue party,” the Colonel answered cheerfully. “As for Voyager, even if she wasn’t before, she is a long way away now. This bus dropped into transwarp as soon as it beamed you aboard. It is why we were a little late getting here. My apologies, Ma’am.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he declared brightly. “I intend to ask the Borg to surrender!”

“Well first I will have to do a few things, like place a couple of bombs and of course declare war. But otherwise I haven’t got a clue,” he admitted. “Now. As you are all safe for the time being, you will excuse Mrs Nine and myself. We need to see the conductor and arrange for us to stop at a suitable bus stop.”

“Seven, what is he babbling about?” the Captain cried turning to Seven of Nine and hoping for a more sensible conversation. There were times when the Colonel’s form of speech dropped into cryptic and analogous similes, that were probably as clear as a bell to his own men, but meant nothing to her.

“The shuttle cannot be released while we are in transwarp,” Seven explained. “The Colonel intends to bring the cube to a halt so that you may be safely beamed aboard and escape.”

Seven of Nine shook her head. “The shuttle will be destroyed, if we are unable to create sufficient damage. The cube is enroute to Unimatrix 01. Colonel Samuels intends to destroy the Collective.”

“How?” the Captain asked at last in resignation. “There must be millions of Borg aboard the Unimatrix. He isn’t intending to kill them all with his sword. Is he?”

“It is unlikely that would have the desired effect,” Seven of Nine pointed out. “However I am uncertain of his real intentions. It is safer for him that I do not. My implants may broadcast his intentions to the Collective if I did.”

“Then why are you here, Seven?” the Captain asked more gently, stepping close to Seven of Nine.

“I will not allow him to attempt the task on his own,” Seven whispered back. “He believes he will succeed, but he will die in the process. He is my collective. I should be with him.”

“Mrs Nine, can you rig the force field across this aperture so that the Borg can’t get in?” the Colonels question interrupted the Captain and Seven’s discussion.

The Captain turned and found the Colonel on the outside of the force field, with Seven of Nine stepping after him. “How did you do that?” She demanded in surprise. Feeling she was rapidly losing control of the situation.

“I’m bloody minded,” he reminded her. “’It can’t be done’ is not in my admittedly rather limited vocabulary. Besides I have Borg bits, so I can walk through.” He grinned at her.

“I’m not leaving you aboard this ship!” The Captain exploded. “You won’t survive!”

He smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, Ma’am. But this is a situation where you will have to take my orders, like them or not. Mrs Nine leave the Captain the remote for the transporter. You will know when to use it, Ma’am?”

Captain Janeway nodded uncertainly and grabbed the torch like device Seven of Nine handed her through the force field.

Seven turned for the force field controls and tapped a few pads before announcing, “The field will no longer accept Borg directives.”

The response from the Colonel was characteristically simple. He smacked the panel she had been working on with his fist, smashing it. “And now they can’t persuade it to accept them again,” he declared.

“Mrs Nine, you may escort me to the main power system,” he announced, offering her his arm.

The Captain watched them casually stroll away arm in arm as they often did aboard Voyager, then step around two drones that appeared. There was no way the Colonel could achieve what he was intending. She was sure of that. It would only lead to his assimilation.

She turned back to the other captives. “I am not going to let him try what Seven claims,” she announced. “Tuvok, find me a way out of this cage! I’ve got to stop him!”

“Your life will be in danger and you may compromise his plan,” Tuvok warned quietly.

“You think he has one!” Tom Paris entered the discussion with an exclamation.

“I do not know,” Tuvok admitted honestly. “However, the Colonel has an objective. I have observed that is often adequate. He would not allow Seven of Nine to be present unless he believed he could succeed.”

“Find me a way out of this cell!” The Captain growled again at Tuvok, terminating the conversation. “If they manage to stop the cube. You will take Tom, Vorick and Vesa and return to Komos and find Voyager. I will stay here.”

“It was a mistake to give Captain Janeway the control for the transporter,” Seven of Nine opined as she strolled beside the Colonel. “She will not return to the shuttle with the others.”

“I am not happy with how easy this is,” he replied as they stepped past another party of Borg work drones.

As was customary the Borg were tasked to a single function and seemed to ignore the interlopers. It surprised the Colonel. He knew that the few Borg implants and the probes in his body might help reduce the probability of him being detected. But he had not expected this level of invisibility without extra effort on his part.

“It has all the hallmarks of being a trap. The Captain running interference, with her own brand of chaos might be helpful,” he finished.

“That is my function?” She demanded, stopping to look at him squarely in the face. “To provide interference?”

“I sincerely hope not! I need you to show me where I can cause the most damage! I’ve told you before. I will protect you until my last breath and I will!”

“But you have no objection for the Captain to sacrifice herself?” Seven demanded angrily.

He considered the question, knowing Seven of Nine’s feelings for the Captain. “If I can help it, she won’t,” he said carefully. “But if she decides to stay behind, then to my mind, she has accepted the risks.”

“That is the main power system,” Seven of Nine declared, pointing at a large panel in the far wall. Seven drones were working at the console on one side, two more were testing pipes and trunking on the other.

“Well I won’t make much of a dent in that with plastic,” the Colonel breathed. “Besides the locals might notice. Where are the power leads?”

“They run from all sides, the ones for propulsion exit from overhead.” Seven of Nine pointed at a series of heavy pipes that ran a full fourteen feet above their heads.

“I like that,” the Colonel enthused. “We will have all the time in the world up there. Come on!” He slung his rifle over his neck and moved to a wall covered in trunking and nodes then started to climb. Reaching down to help Seven of Nine if she needed the assistance.

She proved more nimble than he expected and actually overtook him. He caught up with her again as she sat astride a thick pipe examining the readings on her tricorder.

“This one!” She insisted. “The vessel will be without weapons and propulsion. It will take at least one hour to repair.”

He grinned and kissed her. “I’ve told you how wonderful you are?” he asked, pulling his pack from his back and pulling two packages from the top.

“Frequently,” she agreed calmly, breaking the packs up and helping him mould the contents around the pipe. “The sentiment is irrelevant, but acceptable.”

“Right we have about fifteen minutes to find somewhere to hide before this lot goes pop,” the Colonel sighed when they finished. “Then you had better find the Captain and give her this?” He handed her a small device.

“A Hansen Bio-damper? The Borg are aware of the technology, they will adapt to discover it. Why did you have one?” Seven demanded after a quick examination.

“I didn’t,” the Colonel protested. “But I have read the ships logs, so I duplicated some. They are better than nothing and you are more than able to modify it to make it difficult to find.” He smiled at her encouragingly. “I have one for you and me as well.”

“You can’t go after the Captain!” Tom Paris argued with Tuvok. “The Colonel will blow his top if he finds out!”

Vorick had succeeded in disabling the forcefield across their cell ten minutes previously and the Captain had hurried out to try and trace the Colonel and Seven of Nine. Now Tuvok had decided to follow the Captain’s example.

“Besides, what can you do to help her?” Tom Paris added. “You haven't anything for a weapon.”

“You are forgetting I am martial arts master,” Tuvok reminded the Lieutenant. “It is my decision.”

“A lot of good it did you when you tried them on the Colonel,” Paris snapped, remembering the occasion on the holodeck when Tuvok had attempted to demonstrate the superiority of his martial arts to the Colonel. “You got two good kicks in, then he nearly broke your neck! Face it Tuvok, you are being irrational! Not even the Colonel can destroy the Borg. All it is going to do is get three people killed or assimilated!”

“Lieutenant Paris. You will follow the Captain’s orders,” Tuvok commanded as a muffled thud resounded through the ship. “The Colonel has attempted to disable the drive. You will leave now!”

Sadly Tom Paris activated the button on the remote device and transported the three remaining captives to the shuttle.

He found that the Colonel and Seven of Nine had made the craft as ready as possible for the flight back to Komos. Even leaving the sensors running so that it would decipher their location the moment the cube dropped from transwarp. The few seconds between the explosion and the small party of refugees appearing had been all the time the small ship had required to identify it’s location and configure a course.

He examined it carefully. In the three hours they had been aboard the cube they had travelled a 150 light years. It was going to take the shuttle two months to cover that distance. It was going to be a long and cramped flight, he decided as the docking clamps released and the shuttle drifted into space. He pointed the ship in the right direction and fired the drive.

Captain Janeway hid herself in an alcove as soon as she heard the explosion. Certain that things were going to become more active now that damage had been detected. If they didn’t know their were captives on the loose now then they never would. For a moment she regretted the impetuous decision to remain behind. It had been fired more by bravado then clever thinking. The cube must still be days away from the Unimatrix, even at Transwarp speeds. She doubted she would be able to remain concealed for long enough to help the Colonel there. But perhaps when the Borg found her, they would not look for another saboteur.

“Captain, you should attach this bio-dampener and follow me,” Seven ordered dispassionately.

“How did you find me?” The Captain gasped in surprise slapping the small device to her arm as ordered.

“The Colonel predicted you would remain behind and would attempt to follow us,” Seven declared. “We will leave now. Before I am detected and tracked. They will know that the damage is sabotage by now.”

“Commander Tuvok. You were not expected,” claimed Seven. “Your presence is not logical.”

They hurried after Seven of Nine as she marched rapidly down corridors and narrow passages until they entered a room barely three metres square and rather less than two tall.

“Welcome to the Ritz, Captain!” A calm voice greeted them. “I apologise, but as you can see the bell boy has the day off as have the maids.”

Peering in the gloom they could just make out the shape of the Colonel sat in the corner, his rifle on his knee covering the entrance.

“Mrs Nine tells me that this is one of only two places on the ship where the sensors can be avoided. Can’t say I’m surprised. It appears to be a rubbish skip,” the Colonel continued. “When the hull-a-ballooh has died off, perhaps we can find somewhere a little more comfortable.”

From beside him he picked up his Cathor sabre and activated it. A dim light projected from the end allowing them to see more of their surrounds. It was as the Colonel had described, a rubbish tip. Parts of machinery and limbs littered the floor around them, making the already claustrophobic surrounds more so. There was also a faint smell.

“You don’t want to know,” the Colonel assured her. “Suffice to say I removed the cause using my sword. There are things even I won’t touch.”

He turned to Tuvok. “Now Commander, would it be rude to ask why you are here and what you hope to achieve? You are the last person I expected to remain behind. The Captain. I can understand that. She is a stubborn bitch that can’t resist the idea of solving a challenge. But you? I thought you had your head screwed on better.”

“Very probably,” the Colonel admitted. “But you have ruined your reputation as a thinker and we are going to break every Star Fleet protocol in the book. Still. If you are prepared to fight to my rules, you are very welcome. It is going to be a short but exciting ride.”

“Okay. We fight to your rules,” the Captain agreed, cautiously sitting on the floor. “You have something more in mind than running around Unimatrix 01 cutting heads off. What is it?”

“I intend to give the Collective the mother of reprogramming,” he agreed. “But we have to find a way to keep everybody busy, to give us the chance to get close enough to the central core. Mrs Nine, could you explain please?”

Seven o f Nine nodded. “The Collective is decentralised in that the main storage is located and duplicated over numerous Unimatix’s. However the central control is handled by three vehniculum located in Unimatrix 01. The loss of one of these units would disrupt the Borg organisation for several months. Two would be catastrophic.”

“But the Vehniculum are almost indestructible. How are you intending to destroy it?” The Captain demanded.

“It is still a computer. I am very good at breaking computers,” the Colonel assured her. “Why do you think Mrs Nine can rebuild a replicator blindfolded and won’t let me touch her Astro Metrics suite on Voyager?”

“There is a design flaw in the alcove mechanics. It is possible to cause massed failures in the regeneration alcoves,” Seven of Nine declared. “There are two data inlet manifolds at the back of each bank of six alcoves. If the cables are exchanged, the alcove will fail and terminate the drones in regeneration.”

“That is a big flaw in perfection!” the Captain whistled. “If it is such a major error why haven’t they corrected it?”

“The space behind the alcove is insufficient for maintenance drones to dismantle the connections. The Alcove would have to be dismantled to correct the error.”

“So you want us to wander around the Unimatrix reprogramming alcoves and murdering sleeping drones, while you and Seven break into the Vehniculum?” The Captain challenged.

“Broadly. Yes, Captain. Do not try and take on walking drones. You will lose,” the Colonel opined.

With a degree of irony the Captain stood and came to a fair semblance of the Colonel’s alert state and saluted. “Sir!” She proclaimed. “When do we start, Sir?”

The Colonel grinned at her and returned the compliment and salute. “When we arrive will do. Mrs Nine says in about 48 hours.”

From his seated position Tuvok could tell the difference in style and attitude and had a sudden flash of realisation as to what they meant. One with the snappy enthusiasm of somebody trying to make a point. The other with the cool casualness of somebody who had made their point a long time ago. He hoped the Captain would learn the difference quickly.

The Colonel turned to Tuvok. “I have my rifle and its bayonet that you and the Captain may use,” he said quietly. “It isn’t much, but it will give you some chance. There are six clips with thirty rounds each. I recommend you keep two rounds for emergencies.”

He handed the weapon to Tuvok, then addressed his small company. “As we have some time to kill. I suggest we have a little to eat, then get as much rest as possible. Whether we survive this little escapade, or not, has already been written somewhere in one of those alternate universes Mr Tuvok has told me about. I intend to be in the Universe where we not only succeed, but are able to tell the Galaxy about it. I can only do that if we are all awake.”

He allowed that to sink in for a few moments before opting for a lighter tone. “Now I have standard Star Fleet Emergency Rations, or I can offer you a real treat, ‘Tommies’. Nobody has ever gone hungry when they are available.”

The Captain tried to enter in the spirit of his light hearted vein. “I’ve never heard of them. What are they?”

“Very simple pancakes. Flour, water, a pinch of salt flavoured with a stock cube,” the Colonel grinned. “You can march for weeks on them, but definitely not horte-de-cuisine.”

“I think I’ll stick with the ration packs,” she decided with a worried grin. “They sound terrible!”

“They are,” he admitted. “But they are welcome if you have nothing else.”

It proved to be a nerve wracking 48 hours of waiting for everybody, except possibly the Colonel. Each in turn took turns to guard the entrance to their hideaway, squatting in the entrance and watching. The Colonel seemed to have made himself comfortable in the corner of the room, from there he talked and joked quietly to those that wished to come near. Silently held long and solitary vigils of guard duty. Offered comfort and slept. How he did it baffled the Captain, who found that sleep was almost impossible to achieve, because of the anticipation. Eventually she challenged him about it.

“As far as I can see. When a Star Ship goes into battle, it doesn’t usually last for long. You press a few buttons and either you win or you don’t, there is no second round. A couple of days will sort out all but the most obstinate and there is no real waiting. In a land battle you have to learn to ‘feel’ when the next action will appear. A ground offensive can last months, sometimes even years. But the actual fighting only lasts an hour or so at a time before somebody backs down to recuperate. Then they might have another go, the lull can be minutes, hours, days or months. You have to make the most of that lull.”

He slid his arm around Seven of Nine and pulled her protectively close. “Only that I might fail Seven of Nine. I want her to be free of the worry that she might still be a target.”

“And that is why you are going to try and destroy the Borg. Is it?” She demanded.

“I can’t think of a more honourable one,” he agreed. “Why are you here, Captain? Don’t give me the guff about service to Star Fleet and races of the Universe. Even you don’t know enough of them to know if they will thank you,” he challenged her, his voice hard now.

She swallowed, it was an impossible question to answer. She did not know herself why she had done it, only that it seemed right to try. “It seemed like a good idea at the time,” she excused.

“There are three Borg approaching!” Tuvok whispered from the doorway, rescuing the Captain from further uncomfortable questions turned on herself.

“Wait until they come in. We take them silently and quickly with blades. No shooting,” the Colonel ordered, pulling Tuvok away from the door.

The three Borg stopped suddenly and turned back the way they came, leaving them peering after their rapidly receding backs.

“If I was a suspicious man,” the Colonel opined at last. “I would say that they want us alive and onboard the Unimatrix. Happily, that suits me fine!”

“Because if they hadn’t detected us, they wouldn’t have turned so quickly. An extra few yards wouldn’t have made any difference, even if they need to regenerate.”

“The ship has stopped,” Seven of Nine suddenly announced. “We have arrived.”

“Okay. We will risk it,” he decided. “Lets find somewhere you can transport us from.”

They materialised in a corridor aboard the Unimatrix. In a fit of inspiration Seven of Nine had modified the coordinates of their beam down point by 20 Metres at the last moment, putting them in an adjoining corridor. It proved to be a good idea, it was discovered, there were a group of drones surrounding the original location. As one the posse of drones turned and starting to move in their direction as they realised the deception.

“I think a rapid change of location is called for?” The Colonel suggested mildly. “Follow me.”

He turned and lead them at double march up and down assorted corridors for a full twenty minutes before coming to a halt in another vacant corridor.

“We couldn’t use the same point as an evacuation point anyhow. We haven’t got anywhere to go, or anybody to pull us out,” the Colonel pointed out mildly. “So this is as good a start point as any. You have a tricorder, so you can find somewhere to start doing some damage. I have Mrs Nine, so I can find the place to really hurt them.”

“You mean you really have no idea of how to get us out of here?” the Captain demanded incredulously.

The Colonel considered her gravely. “Captain Janeway. You have seen all the resources I have at my control. You, Commander Tuvok and Mrs Seven of Nine. Equipment wise, we have a rifle with 180 rounds, a service revolver, 10lbs of Thermite based plastic and several large knifes. We distinctly lack transport and troops. Against that we have the entire population of this establishment. How do you expect me to get us out of here?”

“Best way,” he agreed. “How we escape will depend upon how well we do and how cooperative the queen is. Without something more positive I am not going to predetermine anything, it will go wrong. I am here to destroy the Unimatrix. That is the criteria for success.”

“You were given the opportunity to escape, Captain. You chose to stay,” he reminded her. “Now you are in my world. It is too late to decide you don’t like the odds. I require you to perform your duty. To sabotage as many Borg alcoves as you can. Let me worry about escape when it is appropriate.”

“However. If you care to make your way in the general direction of the throne room, or whatever they call it, in say three hours. I will endeavour to get you home as a living hero. If it is any help I can offer what a captain once told me, when I was a rifleman?” he added gently. “For a soldier in battle, the only thing that matters is duty. His duty to himself, then the Queen of England, finally the Regiment. Take out one of the enemy and your duty for yourself is complete. Complete the task and your duty to the Queen is over. Win and survive the battle, the honour of the Regiment is satisfied. I have never failed in my duty.”

“No, it isn’t a help,” she sighed heavily. “We will see you in three hours in the central complex.”

“I’m sorry Tuvok. He doesn’t think we will survive,” she said contritely.

Tuvok almost shrugged. “The mathematical probability of success states that we will fail in the Colonel’s goal,” he commented. “However the Colonel rarely appears to be affected by probability.”

“That’s true,” the Captain responded reflectively. “Where should we start?”

The Colonel watched the Captain and Tuvok disappear before turning back to Seven of Nine.

“Do you know where we are?” he asked mildly, letting slip a little of his uncertainty. “I assume this is a big place. If you don’t then we could be searching for something you recognise for quite a while?”

“I can sense the location of the Vehniculum,” Seven of Nine asserted. “A sizeable number of drones will be operating in and guarding its location.”

“Uncertain. I believe they may be able to triangulate our position using my implants. You would however be safer operating alone.”

“That is not an option,” the Colonel snapped. “It is because of you I am here. I am not giving you up. Besides if they could track you we would be upto our ears in drones by now. So lead on.”

Captain Janeway and Tuvok roamed the corridors in silence for a full fifteen minutes until they came upon what looked like a good starting point. Two long rows of alcoves located back to back leaving a narrow opening between them.

“This will do nicely. Tuvok watch for interruptions,” the Captain was almost gleeful in the anticipation of the carnage and dived into the opening like a terrier after a rat. It was pay back time for nearly five years of running and hiding everytime Voyager detected a Borg vessel. Even better, she found that the cables Seven of Nine had described were long enough to be swapped with the alcove behind. She set about the task with zeal, not only swapping the upper and lower connector as Seven of Nine had described, but sharing them between alcoves.

It was a task that Tuvok interrupted her from within a few minutes and barely halfway along the two ranks of sixty alcoves. “Captain,” he called quietly. “You may wish to observe the effect your ‘reprogramming’ is having? The drones are not being deactivated as Seven of Nine has predicted.”

The comment alarmed her enough to race back to where Tuvok was kneeling and peer over him.

The sight that met her could only be described as comical. As she had swapped the plugs, the drones had come alive and as one stepped smartly from their respective alcoves. After that things descended into bedlam. Some turned left, some right. But there was no coordination in their actions leading them to blindly march into each other. Some seemed to be almost dancing in a close tango as they tried to pass each other, each shuffling left and right in unison as they attempted to get past. Others simply stood still in the centre of the walkway when they met, seemingly challenging the other to work around them. Others were attacking each other, repeatedly plunging assimilation leads into each other, except nothing else seemed to be happening.

“If that isn’t chaos at work. I don’t know what is,” the Captain suggested. “That must be causing somebody a headache! Just think what they are reporting to the Collective! It could be better than deactivation. Let’s get the rest replugged and start on another bank!”

She turned back to her task with even more enthusiasm than before, taking Tuvok with her.

Seven of Nine stopped suddenly, cocking her head to one side as if listening to something almost inaudible. A puzzled frown passed across her face before she straightened up again.

“I believe the Captain is being adaptable,” she explained to the patiently waiting Colonel. “There is some confusion present in the Collective. A number of drones are reporting obstacles in their path. Additional drones are being despatched to clear the obstacles. The level of disorder suggests the Collective my not be tracking our movements as closely as before.”

“Well there is some good news! I hope the Captain remembers to leave herself a gap to move on in,” the Colonel commented mildly. “Have you worked out where we are?”

A small smile lit her face. “We are above the Vehniculum room,” she announced with some pride. “You asked for a method by which we may enter unobserved. I believe there may be an access port on this level.”

She pointed to a column that rose through the deck and disappeared above. “That is a data transmission conduit. I can remove sufficient panels to give us access. However it is unlikely that we will have more than ten minutes before drones appear to repair the damage.”

“Carry on. I’ll keep the interested at bay,” the Colonel agreed. “Once in we will find another way out.”

“Have you thought that you might find an answer to our question here?” The Colonel asked quietly as Seven of Nine set to work removing the control panels.

Seven of Nine paused in her struggle to look at him with raised eyebrow. “Which question?” She demanded.

“The question that has had you locked in a Science Lab for a fortnight,” he responded. “The one that had you crying on my shoulder because you can’t find a satisfactory answer. Whether we can safely have a baby!”

“Borg do not have children,” she said stiffly. “And we have other priorities.”

“There is no harm in asking the question,” he suggested. “You will never be able to ask again and this is the centre of all Borg wisdom!”

Five minutes later there was a clatter from the back of the column as Seven removed the last of the panels and allowed it to drop to the floor. It sounded like a thunder clap in the eerily silent corridor.

“The panel has been removed. We should vacate this location at once,” she decreed.

The Colonel examined the gap she had created and the shaft she was intending them to descend carefully. It was going to be a close fit for him, less so for the slimmer frame of Seven of Nine and he would have to take the risk of simply dropping his pack down the shaft. Nor was there any form of ladder to make the descent easier. It was however home for several thick cables.”

“It will do, provided we can get the bottom open,” he agreed. “I think, ladies first. In you get.” Quickly he scooped Seven of Nine up into his arms and offered her feet first to the opening.

“I’ll give you a few moments start,” he whispered, pecking her on the cheek. “I think you can use the cables to stop yourself falling. I’m just going to make things a little more difficult to repair.”

Seven nodded and allowed herself to slip into the aperture, the Colonel supporting her under until she took a firm grip of the cables and started to lower herself carefully into the dark confines.

The Colonel took quickly scanned the area, and tested a pipe by touch. Feeling it vibrate slightly in his hand he guessed it was for something essential, hopefully power. Working quickly, he moulded a few ounces of his precious explosives to it. Next he ran a length of cotton from a second pipe across the corridor. From a pocket he took a small electric detonator and unscrewed that, carefully laying the cotton across the contacts, then closing it again before pushing it into the explosive and triggering the firing pin. With a little luck the cotton was still holding the contacts apart. The detonator would be triggered by a passing Borg and a little under five minutes later they would have another emergency repair to make and several terminated drones. Otherwise there would still be another repair.

Satisfied his booby trap was as well laid as possible he followed Seven of Nine into the shaft, dragging his pack after him.

He found Seven of Nine about twenty feet down, struggling with the back of another access panel.

“The panel is stuck,” she complained feeling his legs slide past her face. “I will require your assistance to percussively dislocate it.”

“In that case, can you climb up past me and take the pack?” He asked. “Its balanced on my head. If I start swinging around I’ll drop it.”

“I will have to get you in a tight place like this again!” he teased as Seven of Nine started to squeeze past him. “It is very pleasant!”

“It is also cramped and difficult to move,” she pointed out, finally coming face to face.

In the dim light she saw him smile. “I know. It makes it difficult for you to escape!”

“It was you that tried to escape,” she grunted, sliding up again. “I have the pack. You may commence adjustment.”

It took six solid kicks from the Colonels heavy boots to dislodge the panel. As soon as it clattered to the floor he swung through and rolled to a stop, looking for any threat. The room was clear of danger. Satisfied he stood and turned in time to see Seven of Nines legs swing through the hole he himself had come from a few moments earlier. Quickly he caught her and helped her through, then caught the pack as it slid after her.

“The Vehniculum are over here,” she announced immediately, marching towards a console in the centre of the room and activating a control.

Silently a panel slid open in a dais infront of the console, revealing three tube like objects three feet long and one in diameter. The Colonel approached them in something akin to awe.

“Those control the thoughts of how many drones?” He whispered, as he watched the centre portions of the tubes pulse in shades of purple.

“150 billion,” Seven of Nine said, stepping up to join him. “However we cannot turn them off. Their internal power will keep them operational for upto three decades. Long enough for them to be recovered if disaster were to befall the Unimatrix.”

“And I don’t suppose I could simply drop them on the floor either. They look as if they could survive a long drop.”

“None. In addition if I am caught any attempt of sabotage you attempt will be discovered,” Seven of Nine pointed out unhelpfully.

The Colonel inspected the Vehniculum more closely. “These tubes attached to the ends, are they the power couplings?” he asked, thoughtfully.

“They are not connected to the power system directly,” Seven advised. “They are powered by the metalic induction tubes beside. The tubes act as aerials for signals to and from drones.”

“You said you did not want to know,” he chided gently, finding what he was after and looking up.

She recognised the box he had pulled out. It was the one that housed the Cathor crystals.

“You are intending to put the crystals in the tubes,” she challenged. “They will be discovered and you will have allowed the most powerful weapon in the Universe to fall into the hands of the Borg!”

“But not before it is to late. If we can stay out of their hands long enough,” the Colonel offered. “Just think of all those billions of mindless thoughts passing through. I would say it would be ideal for the crystals to do what the are supposed to do, wouldn’t you?”

Seven watched him pull the cables from the units and drop a crystal into each before jamming them back in place again. The last he dropped into his pocket, before kicking the case under a console.

A distant thud reached them, dust and smoke emerged from the entry they had used and the lights dimmed momentarily.

“Oh dear! I think the Borg have arrived to fix the damage. I think we had better leave. Are there Borg behind the door?” The Colonel asked.

Seven of Nine moved to check the door as instructed, listening carefully before opening it. The corridor was clear. It puzzled her. In her experience the corridors around the Vehniculum were normally full of Borg.

“So where are they?” The Colonel echoed her own uncertainties as he slid his arm around her waist.

“I do not know,” Seven of Nine admitted. “This corridor has fourteen major distribution nodes. There should be at least sixty drones to maintain them.”

“Are what we just fed the real Vehniculum?” the Colonel mused. “Not mock ups?”

“Are you sure? Could they have moved them to some other location and just using the old location for a trap?” The Colonel persisted.

“They were real!” Seven protested. “The Vehniculum form the centre of the Borg Collective. To move them would require the building of a new central Unimatrix!”

The Colonel thought for a moment. “We are wandering around in a damned big rat trap. Can you use one of those terminals to see how the Captain is doing?”

“Good. Then we can go and find somewhere the Borg don’t expect us to go and before they come and collect us.”

Captain Janeway and Commander Tuvok, in their own estimation, were doing exceptionally well. In the two hours since they had begun their destructive trail they had re-attached the leads of some sixty alcoves, affecting more than three hundred drones. Added to the growing throng there were an even larger number of drones that had appeared to repair the damaged alcoves.

They stopped for a few moments to take in the carnage that they had wrought so far.

“Another bank and we had better try and get to the central complex,” the Captain said. “If the Colonel hasn’t done what he set out to do by now, then he isn’t going to.”

Tuvok nodded. “Agreed, Captain. There is a clear path to the bank four rows down. If the alley is not blocked we will be able to circumnavigate the throng,” he suggested. Of the two, he had been attempting to keep track of their progress and avoid being blocked in by their own sabotage.

Quickly he led the Captain to another bank of back to back alcoves and they set to work.

They were half way down before they realised that things were different this time.

Feeling uneasy Tuvok looked around as he replugged a set of leads and spotted a Borg enter the end of the narrow corridor they were in. This one did not appear to be as confused as the others.

A glance in the opposite direction showed another had entered at the opposite end.

“Captain. We have been discovered,” Tuvok declared quietly, breaking off what he was doing to bring up the Colonels rifle.

His thumb sort and found the safety catch and slipped it off, aimed and fired. He had never fired the weapon before and was surprised by the recoil. He could feel the Colonels palpable disapproval for the way the weapon jerked. However at a range of ten metres he could not miss and he saw the impact of the small bullet in the Borgs chest, knocking it backwards. It’s place was taken by another. He tried shooting the one at the other end.

They ran, bursting out the end, skidding to a halt in the main corridor, turned and ran on again. Rounding a bend they ran into a party of thirty Borg drones. There was no time to resist. Tuvok drove the bayonet affixed to the end of his weapon into a drone, struggled to tear it out again and was thrown into a console, stunning him. The Captain was gripped firmly between two others.

“We are the Borg. Your consciousness will be added to the Collective. Resistance is futile!”

“Never!” She heard herself scream as she struggled in a desperate attempt at defiance. It was the last thing she remembered.

“The Captain has been caught,” Seven of Nine announced after a few minutes at one of the consoles.

Seven of Nine shook her head. “She was rendered unconscious. Tuvok was injured in the struggle. They are both being taken to the central control. I do not know why!”

“It’s the only thing that makes sense so far,” he assured her. “They know we are here. But don’t know where we are. I think you are going to receive a steady stream of threats as to what the Captain and Commander Tuvok are going to suffer if you don’t surrender.”

“The Borg do not threaten,” Seven of Nine observed in a worried voice. “We should surrender ourselves!”

“Do that and we will all be Borg in an hour. They daren’t do anything until they are sure they have recovered all of us. Otherwise we might do something rash and the Captain has proved that we can do that. Remember that!” The Colonel insisted.

“Now,” he continued. “Where can we do some severe damage? How about the main power plant. I assume they use anti-matter?”

Almost reluctantly Captain Janeway regained consciousness from the stunning blow that had laid her out. Not daring to move for a moment, she carried out a mental check to identify who she was. The fact that she was wondering who she was seemed to signify that she had not been assimilated yet, though there was little comfort in the realisation. It meant she could also still feel the bruise on her scalp where she had made violent contact with a control panel.

The terrible crick in the neck signified she was also upright. That was not comforting either. Nor was the seeming silence that surrounded her.

Finally she could stand the suspense no longer and opened her eyes to find she was standing in a Borg alcove. Straps around her chest and waist held her upright and effectively pinned her arms to her sides.

So far the only good news was that the alcove was not active. That prompted her to look around a little more.

She found Tuvok almost immediately. He was trapped in a similar fashion in a second booth next to her. Beyond him there were another two alcoves, both empty. She allowed herself the hope that they had been prepared for the Colonel and Seven of Nine and that they had not been caught yet. Then wondered how long she had been unconscious and whether they had succeeded in their attempt at sabotage yet. Their success seemed to be their only chance of survival now. Certainly with the Colonel in the mood he was in she could not see him even considering escape until he had carried out what he intended.

The Captain tried to make out more details further afield. A task hindered by the classic Borg subdued green lighting. They were in a large room, she could tell that and the walls were littered with Borg consoles. The alcoves were not against the wall, but were not in the centre either. That honour fell to a circular dais with a single stalactite like structure suspended over it and ending about two metres from the floor. Dimly she could see small indicator lights running around the suspended structure. A vague memory suggested she had been here before, it was the Borg queens lair.

As if on cue, the floor infront of the booth opened and a torso arose. Two smaller apertures also appeared and what looked like legs and arms appeared. As the bemused Captain watched the two sets of limbs were brought into contact with the torso and locked into position.

Seven had described this operation to the Captain from her short stay on the Unimatrix and the reasons for it; to unsettle those that entered and allow the Borg queen to take on an appearance that those present may recognise. It did not mean that the Captain was any less impressed.

Finally satisfied that the body was suitably assembled an arm appeared from above bearing the Queens head, shoulders and spinal cord. This was lowered towards the waiting body and threaded through the top, small clamps gripping it into position. The overhead arm disappeared as silently as it had arrived and the Queens eye's snapped open.

Still in silence the Queen twisted her head left and right, then rolled it around her neck as if it was stiff, before exercising her newly regained shoulders, rolling them luxuriously.

Bored up with the small display of aerobics, the Captain cleared her throat. "Very impressive," she declared. "Can you bend forward and touch your toes as well?"

"Can you, Captain Janeway?" The Queen demanded. "There is little need to do such things as a drone."

"But I'm not a drone yet," the Captain pointed out mildly. "Are you saving us for something special?"

"Your attempt at sabotage was pointless, Captain," she declared, gripping the Captains jaw and forcing her to look into her eyes. "The loss of three hundred drones is of no consequence. Seven of Nine's attempt at sabotaging the vehniculum is similarly pointless. Our technology has moved on since we were reliant upon such crude devices for connecting drones from the Unimatrix."

Despite herself, the Captains face displayed her shock and horror at the suggestion. Their mission was destined to fail.

"I see that the meaning is not lost upon you," the Queen sneered. "It will not be lost upon Seven of Nine either. Nor will the loss of efficiency that Seven of Nine has displayed since she has tried to become human."

There was something wrong in what the Queen was saying, the Captain realised. She had not mentioned the Colonel!

"You are thinking of the primitive that is with Seven of Nine?" The Queen suggested. "He lacks the intelligence to severely damage the Collective. He will make an excellent tactical drone. You were foolish to place so much trust in somebody that believed that he could destroy the collective. But as he means so much to you and Seven of Nine I will delay your assimilation so that you may watch him being assimilated first."

The Captain bit her tongue so as not to blurt out what she was thinking. The Queen was making a major mistake in underestimating the Colonel. If he realised that the vehniculum were now redundant he would find another target just as quickly.

The Queen mistook the Captains open eyed look as more horror and revulsion and smiled. "I am still considering how you will best serve me," she confided. "Seven of Nine is no longer suitable for a tertiary adjunct, perhaps you may take her place?"

For twenty minutes she had led the Colonel down unidentifiable corridors and past countless drones, all seemingly going about their own business. It was making the Colonel increasingly nervous.

He knew that Borg did as they were instructed, but even so he did not like the way they were being ignored.

"There are twenty tactical drones outside," Seven added quietly, peering around the corner.

He almost grinned in relief. "At last! At least they are doing something about guarding delicate spots."

She shook her head. "All conduits into this department large enough for us to climb through carry plasma."

Idly the Colonel peered into the corridor. "I could take them out," he mused. "But that may prove counterproductive. We'll be upto our ears in them before we work out what to do."

Seven was not listening to him, but to her inner ear. "They are after me," she whispered. "They do not believe you can carry out your mission without my direction. I can hear the Queen, she has made a tactical error. If I surrender they will escort me to the central complex. It will give you time to place your explosives."

The Colonel grasped her arm firmly. "I told you she would and I'm not letting you go! Listen to me. You know how this lot works better than I do. I need you to tell me where to slap what we have, to do most damage."

Seven of Nine shook her arm free. "Your mission is to destroy the collective. If we fail we will die for no purpose," she hissed.

She slammed him against the wall and kissed him hard. "I love you! But I must surrender to allow you to complete your mission. Then you can rescue the others. I will remain if necessary."

She caught him and pushed him away, then boldly marched towards the waiting drones. She was by no means certain that she would not be assimilated, if that was the case, she doubted if the Colonel would be able to respond quickly enough to save her, but this had to be done.

"My designation is Seven of Nine Tertiary Adjunct to Unimatrix Zero One. I am Borg. You will take me to the Command Centre," She announced coldly to the group.

As one the group turned to greet her. “We are the Borg. Your distinctiveness will be added to the Collective. Your assimilation will add to your perfection. Resistance is futile.”

“Your declaration is unnecessary and inefficient,” Seven of Nine argued. “You will escort me to the Command Complex. Comply!”

She turned and started to march away from them and they followed her, hurrying to overtake her.

Despite himself the Colonel smiled at the sight of Seven leading a the small force of tactical drones. She had effectively removed all the guards from outside the central power generator and there was going to be enough confusion caused by the way she had ordered the drones for him to slip inside.

Tucked away in the space beside the alcove he blew her a kiss as she led her contingent past. She saw it a blushed appreciably, but hid it by trying to march faster than the Borg would allow.

Satified they had all passed him by, he slipped from his hiding place and approached the opening to the power room and in the door. Again all the drones seemed intent upon their small duties and ignored him, but he preferred not to risk them seeing him and chose to shin up the stout cables and pipes that ran up the walls and seemed to link the boxy control panels and machines. Safe on this new perch he looked around him. Most of the drones efforts seemed to be concentrated upon a box in the centre of the room. At over forty feet in diameter and twenty tall it dominated the room, the level of attention it was receiving suggested that it might be his target. From there he looked for ways of reaching it. It seemed to be supplied by three broad tubes that fed it from overhead and fanned out in three directions. The nearest was less than twenty yards from him, he moved to investigate it, crawling silently along the top of the console.

The tube was a conduit and passed less than five feet above where he was kneeling. Touching it proved that it was warm and hummed. It prompted him to test it with a steel knife. It clinked to the pipe. A magnetic field was operating. The pipe must be one of the main plasma conduits he reasoned idly.

Quietly he climbed upon the pipe and started to slide forward towards the generator.

The result when he reached the power unit were better than he had hoped for. The shrouds around the generator were not continued over the top. It meant that when he slid down the pipe he was physically standing upon the generator and hidden from the drones that were milling around. Quickly he examined how the pipework was attached to the generator. There was no joint he could attack, It ended in three smaller pipes. One led directly into the generator the other two trailed off around it. Four steps took him to the second plasma conduit, it was terminated in the same way.

He sat down, leaning back against the pipes and tried to think of how Voyagers power plant was configured.

The core was cooled by two columns of neutrizine gas, he remembered. The gas was fed in at the bottom and collected at the top using numerous flexible pipes and all were fed by seperately controlled circuits. It would require the destruction of both radiators to destroy the core. Power output was achieved using two main outlet cables. Those were liquid cooled, he remembered a breach in one of the cooling circuits. The antimatter injection was done by the injector, fed by a magnetically shielded hard conduit. That suggested the pipe he had worked along was the antimatter feed. That seemed like a good point to attack the Borg power system, he could create an antimatter leak! The next problem was how to prevent the Borg containing it before it created major destruction. He felt in his pocket and withdrew a crystal, the red one. The largest of the quartet. The one that was claimed feeding the feelings of missed opportunity. It was also the one that had flared aboard Voyager and had almost killed Seven of Nine, when it had sensed the injection of antimatter. What would it do with a major leak he wondered.

That muse gave him the answer and he set to work, dividing his remaining explosives between the three inlets. Satisfied with his placement, he withdrew a handfull of detonators and placed them, carefully configuring several as booby traps as he did so. He stood and shined back up the pipe and worked his way back towards the wall. Halfway back he stopped and felt in his pocket for the crystal. This he taped carefully to the top of the tube and continued on his way.

Finally he dropped to the floor and sliped silently and unnoticed out of the room again. He chose a direction in the corridor and set off at a quick trot. The timers he had placed he had set for their maximum countdown- about forty-five minutes. He had to find his way to the Central Complex he had heard Seven of Nine demand she was taken, but he had to get as far as he could from the power complex first. If he was found there they would start their search there.

Using guess and best judgement he made his way back to the vehniculum room again. He allowed himself the few moments to regain the crystals he had pushed in the end of the tubes and the box he had used to house them.

From the box he pulled the lining and weighed it carefully. The lining he had made himself, using the crushed energy absorbing rock he had found, that adventure seemed a long time ago- almost in a different lifetime, he thought, before stuffing it into the tubes and sealing them again.

Carefully he pocketed the crystals and set off for the door again. Intent now on finding a guide.

Boldly he stepped up behind it and tapped it firmly upon the shoulder. “Excuse me, old chap,” he claimed. “Could you direct me to the audience chamber? It is quite important.”

He tried again, spinning the drone around to ensure he would be taken notice of. This time the drone attempted to through him off. It received a knife in the throat as reward.

He had no real idea as to where he was going, but he was not finding anything cooperative here.

“Seven of Nine. You have failed in your attempt to sabotage this complex,” the Queen greeted Seven of Nine with disdain, as she was marched before her, a drone holding each arm. “You have become inefficient, flawed, as you would expect from an individual.”

Seven of Nine regarded her back, showing the same level of disdain on her face. “I am not an individual,” she declared haughtily. “I am Seven of Nine, Primary Adjunct to Unimatrix Samuels. We are efficient. It is the Borg that are inefficient. It required my surrender to allow you to capture me. Perhaps if you release Captain Janeway and Commander Tuvok I will explain how we will destroy the Borg?”

The Queen laughed at her. “Do you think sabotaging the Vehniculum will destroy us. You are so small in your concept of the Borg and how we can track your efforts. We do not need the Vehniculum. All you have done is bring the Cathor Crystals to us. You will see how we can use them to add to the Collective.”

Captain Janeway, still captive in her alcove watched in bemusement. This was Seven of Nine at her best. Calmly and logically attempting to intimidate the Queen, as she had done with her numerous times, but she wondered how long she could keep it up. She saw the fleeting look of alarm cross Seven’s face at the comment about the Vehniculum. But it did not deter her.

“The crystals will destroy you as they destroyed their creators,” Seven almost sneered in the rebuke.

The Borg Queen lost patience. “Seven of Nine. You will take station in your alcove. It has been adapted for use. But I will not have you assimilated until you see the scale of your failure. Comply!”

Seven turned slowly towards the alcove the Queen had indicated for her and almost sauntered towards it. “So the Borg have also become small as well as inefficient,” she sniped. “You have become vengeful. The crystals have started their work to destroy the Collective.”

“I do not know,” she admitted truthfully. “I surrendered myself so that he could complete the mission. He did not trust the damage to the Vehniculum. He believed it was proving too easy.”

“It looks as if he was right,” the Captain declared. “I don’t suppose you would care to deactivate these clamps while we are waiting for him to appear and there is nobody watching? I assume he will come for us?”

“He will come,” Seven of Nine predicted confidently. “However our premature release will lead to our instant assimilation. We must wait.”

They waited, studiously ignoring drones as they passed them and worked upon the alcoves.

Eventually a new sound smote there ears. The sound of a marching song, sung as if its owner was trying to chivy those around him into a faster step. It stopped for a moment then started again, with the refrain of “It’s a long way to Tipperary”.

They looked at each other. There was nobody else it could be, the Colonel, marching at his own pace. The Captain grinned at the others, at the pace he was singing the drones would be struggling to keep up with him.

He appeared a few momments later, his mottled dark green battle dress giving him an indistinct shape in the subdued green lighting. More obvious were the twelve tactical drones that were trailing him. Strangely they had not taken his long sword from him.

A quick glance around the complex and he was marching purposefully towards Seven of Nine.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again!” The Colonel declared sternly. “If those daft beggars had decided to get stroppy I might not have had the time to deal with them.”

“It was necessary,” Seven excused herself, stepping from the alcove. She rose on tip toes and gave her husband a kiss that made him blush.

“Seven of Nine. You will return to your alcove. Comply!” The queen rounded the corner of the alcove and faced the two of them.

“It will not be necessary,” Seven of Nine declared imperiously. “You have failed. The Colonel has arrived under his volition. His sabotage has been completed.”

“Your attempts will be futile,” the queen sneered. “He is a primitive, the technology he is able to use will be of no use. You will be assimilated. The primitive will be destroyed.”

“Excuse me?” The Colonel intercepted politely. “But may I be permitted to put a word or two in?” He had the distinct feeling that a cat-fight was going to occur, as both women struggled to be as rude as possible to each other.

“Could I ask you to introduce me to the Meccano Lady, Ma’am?” He asked formally.

The Colonel immediately came to attention before the queen, bringing the right knee high before slamming with a crash to the deck again, his right hand rising to his forehead, then bowed low before her.

“Your Majesty! Lieutenant Colonel Alan Samuels of Her Majesties 60^th Regiment of Rifles. At your service!” He announced himself.

The Colonel’s strange antics mesmerised the queen. She had seen almost every emotion from blind fear to violent rage from those that the Borg had assimilated. But one where her victim was cheerfully offering service was new, she did not have a clue how to deal with it.

Seeing her indecision the Colonel muttered to Seven of Nine. “Free the Captain and Commander. Find a ship of some sort, then get out, before she recovers.”

He turned his attention back to the Queen. “I owe you a great debt of thanks, Your Majesty. I understand that Miss Seven of Nine was one of your subjects. I must apologise that I neglected to ask your permission before requesting her hand in marriage, I hope you will not take too unkindly to that fact. I also apologise for her rudeness. I’m sure it was nothing to do with the upbringing she had here. Perhaps it is the time of the month for ‘Women’s’ problems. I am fully aware of how they can affect young ladies, my first wife tended to become quite broody.”

He was speaking speaking loudly and quickly enough to keep the queen in an almost constant state of bemusement. Trying to give Seven of Nine the time she needed to release the captives.

“If I may be permitted to say so, Your Majesty. But you are nothing like as ugly as Captain Janeway has described. The tubes out the back of your head are quite fetching. As such I feel I must offer you a gift.”

“I do apologise. I haven’t had the opportunity to set it in the way it deserves,” he declared. “But you will agree that it would look simply splendid on a black choker?” Deftly he tucked it under one of the clamps holding her neck to her cybernetic body. It glimmered at them dully.

“What is he doing, Seven?” the Captain hissed as the restraining straps holding her eased.

“Creating a diversion,” Seven of Nine declared. “I will attempt to transport us to a vessel in preparation for escape.”

“He is being adaptable,” Seven of Nine asserted uncomfortably, then hurried to a terminal.

Silently the Captain released Tuvok and helped him over to where Seven of Nine was working, never taking her eye’s off the Colonel and his increasingly strange behaviour.

“There is a scout vessel without a crew,” Seven whispered. “I may pilot the vessel. I shall arrange suitable transport.”

“Now if you will permit me, Your Majesty?” The Colonel continued remorselessly. “I would like to make some observations on the performance of your people. It was really most distressing the way I had to terminate a dozen of them before they even effected to notice me. If they were my men I would have shot the lot by now. The level of their incompetence was really quite astounding, allowing strangers to wander around like they have been!”

“As it is, no harm has been done to my party, so I am prepared to offer terms for your surrender?”

The final statement shook the queen from her reverie. “You have failed,” she stated simply.

He looked at his watch. “By my reckoning we have about twenty minutes before we find out. I can wait that long. Can you, your Majesty?”

“After all. If my little bangs don’t work, I can resort to more long winded methods. And your drones have failed to impress me on at least three occasions,” his voice dropping several octaves and became more dangerous. “I never thought I would ever commit a regicide. Failing to surrender would inevitably mean I would have the opportunity.”

He grinned suddenly. “Now my terms. You will allow Mrs Nine, Captain Janeway and Commander Tuvok to leave unmolested. In exchange I will tell you where I have booby trapped and give you assistance to disarm the ones I can reach in time.”

“I could assimilate all of you, then use your knowledge to disarm your devices,” the queen claimed confidently.

The Colonel seemed to ponder the concept for a moment, then shook his head. “Won’t work, Your Majesty. By the time you have assimilated me it will be too late. Even if you did, with all that padding they won’t get near them.”

“I can also jam the primitive devices,” she tried, there was less conviction in her voice this time.

This time he grinned more openly. “There you have me. I didn’t think you can do that with chemical detonators? Certainly I have never found a method of doing so.”

“My drones are searching for them,” she added, thoroughly uncomfortable now.

“They may even find them,” the Colonel admitted. “Plastic smells of almonds by the way. But if they touch the detonators the wrong way it will all go up anyhow and we will find the answer as to whether I have succeeded, or not, that little bit quicker.”

He glanced at his watch again, there was still ten minutes left. “Perhaps while you are thinking, Your Majesty. You could allow me to be so forward as to ask a personal question? It is not for my benefit you understand, but Mrs Nine would never ask for herself.”

“Mrs Nine would like to have a baby. Only we don’t know if she can, because of the probes?” He smiled weakly at her. “I thought you, as the centre of Borg knowledge, might be able to offer some advice?”

“Any child produced is placed in a development cell until matured,” she declared automatically. “They cannot be assimilated until they are released.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty. I’m sure that will be a great relief to Mrs Nine, when I tell her.”

He glanced at his watch again. “I think the time for negotiations has expired, Your Majesty. I do not think your drones could guide me to where I have planted my infernal devices quickly enough to prevent them detonating. If you wish I will remain to see your destruction? But the others will leave now!”

He turned to his three partners and nodded to them. “Go!” He called. “Seven, you must see the Captain and Commander safe. I will wait to ensure things go right.”

The Captain held up her hand. “We wait! I’m not leaving you alone Colonel,” she decreed.

She received a slightly puzzled, but grateful, glance from Seven of Nine and a cold glare from the Colonel.

“You have a ship to see to safety, Captain. You are under my orders, remember?” He said.

“I’m working to your rules,” the Captain flashed back. “I reserve the right to act independently if I believe it is necessary. I’m not in your army!”

Silently the Colonel grinned and turned back to the queen. “It seems as though we are both destined to fail, Your Majesty,” he said quietly. “I have failed in my secondary objective. The safety of the crew of the USS Voyager. We both go in disgrace.”

In one blurr of movement the sword appeared in the Colonel’s hands and he was swinging it violently at the queen. Desperately she brought a hand up to deflect the powerful blow. It smashed through the metalic hand, but enough impetuous was lost to prevent it decpitating her head as he had planned. It simply gouged the neck as he withdrew the giant blade.

“You are slow,” she managed to taunt, before it lunged forward again. This time taking her in the chest and she staggered.

“Colonel! Behind you!” The Captain screamed, as six drones tried to take him from behind.

The Colonel ducked, tearing the blade from the queens chest and swinging desperately. The sword rent a huge gouge through the nearest Borg, sending it cannoning into the two beside it. It gave the Colonel the chance to roll away and leap to his feet again, ready for the next onslaught.

I wild glance around revealed the others of the party under attack, three Borg approaching him , another squad of a dozen or so entering the room and the Borg Queen on the deck, but still alert and directing the situation. A moments indecision hit him. Given the choice he would prefer to despatch the queen, but it did not look as if Tuvok was going to hold out under the concentrated attack without support.

“Ayee! The Rifles!” He screamed diving to the defence of the hard pressed Vulcan.

The first swing decapitated a drone, the back swing disarmed a second and he was barging through the middle of the cordon that had formed.

“Colonel!” He heard Tuvok shout a warning and was pushed hard sending him stagger as Tuvok bundled into him in time to avoid the arm and assimilation lines from a drone. They caught Tuvok in the back. He stiffened and went pale before the Colonel’s eyes as he regained his balance and charged again, now in a fighting frenzy.

“Get us out of here!” The Captain screamed at Seven of Nine. Even given the way the Colonel was now fighting it was only a matter of time before they were overcome, as more and more drones appeared.

“A dampening field has been engaged. I am unable to complete the transport,” Seven of Nine screamed back.

“I’ll deal with it!” She shouted and made her purposefully towards the queen. The kick she administered sent her reeling again. She was on her in an instant, screaming in frustration and rage, gouging for the queens eyes in a glorious cat fight. The queen clubbed at her with the severed arm, then grabbed at her hair with the other, pulling her sideways, before rolling on top and extending her assimilation lines, aiming for the Captains throat, the Captains own hands still seeking her face.

The queen stiffened suddenly, her mouth opening in a silent scream of rage, then slowly toppled off again. Quickly the Captain rolled and aimed a blow at her face, smashing her fist into it, then watched in detached fascination as the head rolled away.

She looked up and saw a figure standing over her and instinctively lashed out with a foot. She caught it in the midriff and it doubled up. It was only then she realised it was Seven of Nine she had kicked.

“Seven!” She screamed in sudden remorse. Crawling to the winded woman and wrapping an arm around her. “I’m sorry!”

Seven of Nine flashed her a look of fury. “The field will be down,” she wheezed. “Assist me!”

Together they staggered to their feet and helped each other back to the console where the Colonel was still fighting hard. Deftly Seven hit a control and they dematerialised along with four drones as a rumble shuddered the very structure of the Unimatrix.

As they rematerialised again, Seven of Nine immediately staggered for another console and started to punch pads. There was a lurch.

The three drones screamed and collapsed into each other, before being despatched by the Colonel with swift stabs from his blade. He looked wildly around him, seeking more victims. There were none and his fury slowly subsided as he sank to his knees gasping for breath.

“If there is a view screen on this thing, put it on!” He demanded in between gasps. “I’ve got to know if I’ve succeeded!”

Seven of Nine worked another control and a panel over her console lit up, then sank still breathless beside her husband, sliding an arm around him.

In silence they watched as a plume of red fire erupted from the gangling boxy sections of the Unimatrix, then it seemed to implode upon itself. Their small ship caught in the implosion, rocked violently then plummeted towards where the Unimatrix had been. It had Seven of Nine diving for the control panel again, fighting with the controls to stop it plummeting after the Unimatrix as it disintegrated. Finally it settled again and she sank back down beside the Colonel again.

“Well that is that,” he said hollowly. “You are safe to make your own way.”

The Captain glared at them, feeling the lack of emotion and jubilation was unjustified, but found she could find no words suitable. Instead she sank beside Tuvoks body and felt for a pulse.

The Colonel crawled over to where she was kneeling, leaving Seven of Nine gazing blankly at the screen.

“He won’t be for long, Ma’am,” the Colonel opined quietly, silently handing control of their destiny back to her by the change in address. “He got a full dose of probes. Without the Collective to drive him he won’t survive. I can try and inject him with mine? I can’t guarantee a good result.”

“Try it, please!” The Captain pleaded. It was only then that she realised there was an arm dangling from the Colonels neck. “They got you as well?”

“Several times, Ma’am,” he admitted. “This one was particularly insistent.”

He reached up and tore the offending limb from his neck and threw it away, leaving a bloody welt where the lines had penetrated his throat.

She left him to it as he divested himself of jacket and shirt, stretching his own decanting lead and placing it against Tuvoks neck.

She paced after Seven of Nine as she examined one of the fallen drones. “Somebody you knew?” she asked seeing her kneel and examine one in particular.

The Captain gazed at the vacant face and reached an arm around Seven of Nines shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” she said simply, pulling Seven of Nine closer, resting her head in her shoulder and feeling her give in to the emotions.

Quietly they rocked each other in comfort until they were disturbed by the Colonel some fifteen minutes later.

He also knelt beside them and gently covered the fallen drone with his jacket before extracting Seven of Nine from the Captains arms, cuddling her close in his own.

“It was Seven’s father,” the Captain whispered, indicating the fallen Borg, then crept away to allow them to comfort each other.

She clung to him desperately, pulling him tighter to herself. Fighting the new rush of emotion she could feel building.

The Colonel blinking away his own tears, slowly and silently collapsed, dragging Seven of Nine with him. She struggled for a moment, then finding no response struggled harder in alarm as she caught sight of his face. It had gone a pasty white. She knew what that meant. Borg probes were starting to gain control. In desperation she plunged her own lines into him, calling for the Captain as she did so.

“The Colonel has been assimilated. He injected too many of his probes into Commander Tuvok, he has insufficient to combat the Borg probes,” Seven of Nine announced coldly. “I have injected some of mine, but he will need constant care, until he recovers. The ship has been programmed to retrace our route to Komos, but it will take a fortnight. It seems likely we will meet Voyager enroute. I will care for the Colonel.”

Carefully Seven of Nine rose and dragged the Colonels body behind an alcove. There she settled herself beside him, cuddling upto him fiercely. The only thing she knew she had in the Universe. She was not going to let it go.

The Captain, still numb from the previous few days, spent three hours investigating the ship, exploring it top to bottom. She found eight more Borg bodies. They had died in great pain, she could tell that from the expressions on the normally expressionless faces. There was no external injury and she lacked a suitable tricorder to make a closer examination to find the cause, it left a mystery to be solved later. Instead she dragged them into a quiet alcove, then dragged the three that had been with them when they boarded into the same place. Their limited living space looked neater without bodies, she decided.

Finally she rounded the alcove that Seven of Nine had dragged the Colonel into and found that she had fallen to sleep, her legs and arms curled protectively around him, her head on his chest.

The sight deeply moved the Captain. Almost angrily she turned and walked away blinking tears away.

It was not until she settled herself into a corner that she realised why the tears had come so readily and unbidden.

After everything Seven of Nine had something to cling to, that responded to her, never turned away, bring her comfort. What did she have? The Captain of a Star Ship? She did not even have her own ship anymore. It was light years away. All she had were two men, both unconscious and might not recover and an ex-Borg who had only just discovered what love and friendship were. A single human aboard a stolen enemy ship that she could not control and might yet kill her. Who would grieve if that happened. The thought terrified her.

“Captain?” Seven of Nine’s voice reached into her plummeting consciousness and kicked her awake with a start.

“You have been emotional,” Seven of Nine observed, showing the gulf that still existed in her comprehension of human frailties. “Explain the reasons.”

The Captain flashed an angry look at her. “Yes, I was. What of it?” She snapped defensively.

Seven of Nine, hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. She had never seen the Captain as distraught as this. Eventually she sat herself down in front of the Captain and attempted to lock her blue eyes upon the Captains soft brown ones.

“I have learnt that explaining the reasons for emotions and confused thinking often lead to their understanding,” Seven of Nine explained cautiously.

Despite herself a weak smile broke on the Captains face. “A Colonel opinion?”

Seven of Nine nodded. “In such matters he is often correct. It brings order to chaos and is therefore desirable,” Seven of Nine observed stoically. “You should attempt to follow the advice.”

“I am also a good listener and attempting to develop a selective memory,” she added.

The Captain sighed deeply, Seven of Nine was doing a ‘Colonel’ on her, she was not entirely certain she liked the idea. If she perfected the art, there would be two of them aboard Voyager.

“I was feeling sorry for myself and jealous. Jealous of you,” the Captain admitted at last.

Seven of Nine raised a questioning eyebrow, but said nothing, still gazing steadily into the Captains eyes.

It forced the Captain to continue her confession. “I suddenly realised the difference between us. It has nothing to do with humanity, understanding or being a Borg. It’s that you have something you can hold and posses. All I have is a Star Ship and I could lose that at anytime. It’s not mine!”

“They are your thoughts, Captain,” Seven of Nine commented impassively. “You will make sense of them. Continue.”

“The only thing I ever really wanted was to command a Star Ship. I had dalliances, but they were never like you and the Colonel. I was even engaged before I came away. But I wanted to command a Star Ship. Now I haven’t even got that!”

Seven of Nine shrugged non-committally. “You have followed the path you chose,” she observed. “Perhaps a better one has not presented itself?”

The Captain grinned, leaned forward and hugged Seven of Nine. “You couldn’t have put that more diplomatically if you were the Colonel. Thank You!” She declared. “The truth is I have never looked for another path!” She finished by kissing the stunned Seven of Nine on the cheek.

“We had better see what we need to do to keep this ship flying. Perhaps you can give me lessons?” The Captain continued, suddenly feeling a lot happier as new visions crossed her mind. “How is it the Colonel describes it? ‘Ship shape and Bristol fashion’?”

A little uncertainly Seven of Nine nodded. The Captains change of mood puzzled her. She had simply been emulating the Colonel’s approach to a difficult emotion. She had never believed it would work as quickly.

The Colonel awoke forty hours later. He stirred slowly, feeling around him. His hand found a fabric covered leg and explored upwards until it was stopped by a firm hand.

“You are late,” a familiar voice declared. “The time is 05:40. We must work on attaining perfection to your internal chronometer.”

“Task master,” he muttered, slowly opening his eye’s and smiling up at Seven of Nine.

She presented him with a mug. “The contents are cold, because you were late,” she chastised. “But otherwise to your specification.”

He reached up and took the mug gratefully, swallowing the contents in one shot, then discarded it in favour of pulling Seven of Nine down towards him.

The Colonel blushed, almost crimson. “Good morning, Ma’am. I did not realise you were there. Forgive me, Ma’am. I was saying Good Morning to my wife!”

“And that was all?” she teased. “Well you’ve missed the hard work, so I guess we can spare another five minutes. But first you can answer a question for me. Why did the original crew of this ship die so quickly?”

He thought for a moment then responded. “I taped the red crystal to an anti-matter feed in the power complex. I was hoping the flare when I blew the injectors would cause enough confusion to allow the reaction to get out of control, Ma’am.”

The Captain nodded. “It figures, I suppose. I won’t ask why you had the crystals, but what are you going to do with the other two to keep them safe?”

“Good. Now I can see Seven wants to say good morning to you. So I will have the formal debriefing at some other time,” with that she turned and walked away leaving the two of them in each others arms.

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1-24 Final Conflict

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