Passing Years Cont'd
THE ELEVENTH YEAR OF VOYAGER'S JOURNEY

"Naomi..."

When she received no answer, Janeway glanced back over her shoulder to meet Samantha Wildman's concerned expression.

"Please... talk to her..." Samantha had urged her just a few days earlier. Apparently, young Naomi had recently taken to hysterics during alien attacks. Samantha Wildman confided that she felt only Captain Janeway could coax the teenager's fears out into the open.

Kathryn, feeling decidedly not up to the task, had delayed her chat with the younger Wildman. She'd delayed until a brief skirmish with an unknown ship sent Naomi hiding amidst the cargo containers, and Samantha Wildman had marched up to the bridge to demand Janeway's help again.

Feeling more than a little ashamed for her delay, Janeway accompanied Samantha to the cargo bay. Old images flickered across her sight as she stepped in this place she'd avoided for so long-- a glowing regeneration alcove, Seven of Nine bathed in the florescent glow of a console...

"Naomi!"

Samantha hung back by the entrance to the cargo bay, and Janeway cautiously approached the nest of containers the teenager had taken shelter in.

"Naomi..."

She threw a helpless glance back at Ensign Wildman. The pain on the mother's face hardened her resolve.

In a stern voice, "Crewman Wildman!" She stopped. Was this the place for authority?

A quiet voice: "Yes, ma'am."

And suddenly Janeway understood why Samantha wanted her here. Mother truly did know best.

"Is there any logical reason why you're hiding in those cargo containers, crewman?"

"No, ma'am."

"Then why don't you come out."

"I can't... captain."

"And why is that?"

She could barely hear Naomi say, "... I'm scared..."

Janeway could hear Samantha Wildman slipping out of the cargo bay, and soon the doors closed, confirming her exit. With a renewed sense of privacy, Janeway approached the cargo containers, and she swore she could just make out the girl's dark shape crouched between two large storage cases.

"Why is that, crewman?"

"The aliens wanted to hurt us."

"They're long gone, now."

"I know."

Kathryn paused a moment, contemplating this situation. The cargo bay. Why the cargo bay?

Seven...

"You've been on this ship all your life... Ten years now. Why are you suddenly afraid of alien attacks? Surely you know you're safe with us."

Silence.

"Is it Seven, Naomi? Is that why you're here?"

"You couldn't protect Seven. She died. I don't want to die, too..."

"What happened to Seven..." Janeway stopped. She stepped closer and lowered herself to her knees, bringing her within Naomi's line of sight. Then, "What happened to Seven was hard on us all. But... it's a risk you always take in life. Whether you're in space being attacked by aliens, or on land swimming in a pool, there's always risk involved."

"But why did she have to die?"

"I can't tell you that, Naomi. I'm sorry."

"I just wish that things were the way they used to be... when Neelix was here, and Seven was okay and wasn't married to Chakotay... We'd play kadis-kot together... I know I'm a little old for that now..." there was a small laugh.

A moment passed in silence.

Janeway spoke, "Why don't you come out here, Naomi? Come out into the open."

After a pause, she could hear a shuffling, and the girl slowly made her way out into the open, a few feet from Janeway. Not for the first time, Janeway marveled at how quickly the girl had grown. She looked at least seventeen. She had delicate features and a soft complexion complimented by her flowing, red hair. *She'll be striking when she's older,* Kathryn thought. Then, on a darker note, *I'd better keep Chakotay the hell away from her...*

"You're looking older every day, Naomi. I'm going to have to make you an Ensign, soon," Janeway noted. The words were meant to be encouraging, but the girl suddenly seemed more depressed.

"I couldn't ever be a Starfleet Officer. I'm just a... a coward."

Janeway raised an eyebrow, and Naomi continued, "I see everyone around me... when aliens attack, people on the crew fire their weapons... they do their duties. I just want to hide."

Janeway smiled. "Trust me, Naomi... it's completely normal."

Naomi held her gaze. "You're never afraid."

Janeway tilted her chin up a little. "That's not true at all. I get scared quite often. In fact, I'll tell you a little secret," she beckoned the girl closer with one finger, and Naomi inched forward. "When we first fought aliens in this quadrant, I was trembling, I was so scared. I'd never commanded in battle before, and suddenly we were fighting all by ourselves, left and right. I wasn't sure if I'd be able to keep it up for long."

"But you didn't show it."

"Of course I didn't show it! How could I command the confidence of a crew if they knew I had less battle experience than half of them?"

Naomi looked very interested. "So... when did you stop being afraid?"

Janeway smiled. "With practice. Every time we'd fight, I'd get better, and I'd feel a little less frightened the next battle. One day, I went to the bridge, and I wasn't scared anymore."

Well, not exactly.

No... the moment had really come when she was being chased, defenseless on an injured leg, down the corridor of her own ship by a Hirogen twice her size toting a phaser rifle.... a moment like a nightmare come to life... a moment so unreal that fear left her and never seemed to return... but for the point of her discussion with Naomi, circumstances were different.

"And the day will come when you have enough experience that you're no longer afraid. You just have to trust me on this."

Naomi smiled a little at that.

A few minutes later, they emerged from the cargo bay. Samantha took one look at Naomi, and Janeway knew from the relief on her face that the problem had been solved.

* * *

Janeway stepped into Lieutenant Harry Kim's quarters, and was surprised to see him juggling Miral Paris on his lap.

"Oh, I'm sorry for interrupting..."

"It's all right. We could use a little distraction," Kim grinned with a nod towards the softly growling Klingon child. "Last minute baby-sitting job for Tom and B'Elanna. She was about to blow a fuse in engineering this morning."

"So I heard," Janeway replied wryly. She lowered herself onto the couch next to Kim and Miral. Miral growled and bared her teeth to Janeway, and Kathryn quickly reciprocated the gesture, bringing forth a delighted peal of giggles from the child.

"Cap'n Janeway's Klingon, too?" Miral asked Harry, turning to look at him inquisitively.

"No... Captain Janeway's very human," Janeway answered for him, and leaned back as the girl crawled onto her lap. "And you are definitely your mother's daughter."

"Cap'n growls like a Klingon," Miral shot back.

"You better believe it, kiddo," Janeway replied, and pressed her forehead against Miral's for another growl.

She pulled back as the girl giggled, and noticed Kim chuckling beside her.

"So, did they approach you, or did you approach them?" she inquired.

"I did. I figured I'd give Tom and B'Elanna a night off," Kim answered.

"That was very thoughtful of you." Janeway smiled as Miral began to tug on her hair.

Kim watched as the child wove her hand further into the captain's hair. "So... what was it you needed?"

"Nothing that can't wait. It's Italian tonight in the mess hall... I was just going to ask you if you'd eaten."

"Almost a pound of chili, unfortunately. Tomorrow okay for you?"

"Tomorrow," Janeway confirmed. "It's for the best, I've got some reports..." She stood and tried to extricate herself from Miral's firm grip on her neck and hair, and found it useless. Young though she was, Miral already had some of her mother's formidable Klingon strength.

"Cap'n stay here," Miral said firmly, urging Janeway to sit down with a firm pat on the shoulder.

"Could you help me here?" Janeway asked Kim incredulously.

Kim titled his head sideways, a mischievous grin pulling at his lips. "I'd pay attention to the little lady, Captain. She's not B'Elanna's daughter for nothing."

"You're bordering on insubordination, Lieutenant," Janeway said warningly, but she couldn't help but smile as the child's weight pulled her back down next to him on the couch. She noticed a stack of padds on the floor in front of the couch. "So, what did I interrupt?"

"We were just contemplating a game of Go Fish. Care to play?"

"Play, cap'n, play!" Miral urged, hitting her on the shoulder.

With Harry's eyes sparkling into hers, and Miral's hand firmly entrenched in her hair, Kathryn didn't have the power to say no.

* * *

"Do you ever feel like everything is right in the universe?" Kathryn asked sometime later.

Miral had been safely tucked into Harry's bed, and the two officers were slumped side by side on his couch. Kathryn cradled a cup of coffee in her hands, and Harry had grabbed a beer from the replicator.

"Pretty much every day," Harry replied honestly. "I have my doubts when we're in the middle of a crisis, or when we've lost someone, but overall, I'm pretty happy with they way things have turned out."

Kathryn lolled her head over to face him. "Life's truly like that for you, isn't it?" She looked forward again and sipped her coffee, deep in thought. "I envy you."

"I don't know. I miss some things, things I should notice. Maybe I'd do a better job if I were more critical."

"But you're happy."

"Yes. I guess you could say I am."

"That's the important thing. Happiness. There's so little of it to go around."

"I wouldn't say that," Harry replied softly. "I think it's always there, if you can just take it."

"Only if you can still feel it."

"You never lose your ability to feel happiness," Harry replied firmly. "Never."

"You truly believe that?"

"I know it."

She was silent.

"Back to your original question... a moment when everything seems right..." He looked at her. "Do you ever have that?"

"At times. Times like now," she gestured around them. "But it all goes to hell. Everything goes to hell."

"You think this will turn out badly?"

"I'm counting the minutes."

"I can't see how you live that way."

"I don't see how I do, either. I just do."

"I seem to remember you once being an optimist," Harry teased.

"Years ago... you all needed an optimist..." She paused, and her tone was suddenly very nostalgic. "You were all so very young back then. *We* were all so very young." Then, her voice harder, "I can at least be honest now. Our situation is perpetually horrendous."

"I don't know," Harry observed, "The way I see it, we're all healthy, we haven't taken any real damage in weeks... We could all get home tomorrow."

"Or we could all be blown to pieces."

"Well, if you see it that way..."

"Young, innocent Naomi Wildman seems of that school of thought."

"Yeah, I heard about that. Is she okay?"

"I think she will be now." Kathryn sighed. "Time will tell. We won't know until our next attack."

"But things are fine for now," he pressed.

"For now, but--"

"Then why not celebrate that, and worry about the next time when it comes?"

"I can't just do that..."

"Why not?" He asked.

"You don't understand," she said. "If you just... settle because things seem nice, they seem peaceful, you'll never be prepared."

"And if you're always preparing, you'll never be happy. It's a choice."

Kathryn looked at him suspiciously. "I thought we were talking about Naomi."

"I thought we were, too." He held up his hands in mock defense. "I didn't start with the subtext."

Kathryn rubbed the bridge of her nose. "It all gives me a headache, anyway. Let's just speak plainly."

"All right." He paused, forming his words carefully. "I just think you should relax for a while. Enjoy the quiet times. A night after baby sitting. An afternoon with a good book. A beer, or in your case, a cup of coffee with a shipmate."

Kathryn gazed at him for a second, then almost imperceptibly shook her head.

"Disaster will always be there, Harry... Ticking closer and closer," Kathryn replied, holding up one... then two... then three fingers for emphasis.

"Then just ignore the clock for a while," Harry rejoined, and reached over to push down her fingers with his own.

It was meant as an offhand gesture, but his touch against hers, warm, intimate, suddenly sent tingles down both their spines.

His touch... her touch... A world suddenly opened itself up before them. They sat there touching a full second, both too surprised to act.

Janeway pulled her hand from his and pressed it tightly against the coffee mug. He recoiled slightly himself, and sat stiffly next to her on the couch. A sudden barrier had appeared between them.

"Well, it truly is getting late," Janeway finally said.

"Yeah. I'd better get some sleep."

They rose to their feet.

"You shouldn't have bought me coffee," Janeway said with a half-hearted smile. "I'll be up until dawn."

Harry smiled awkwardly. "Well, at least if you miss morning shift tomorrow, you won't be there to catch me sleeping on duty."

"Wishful thinking, Lieutenant."

They stood there smiling at each other for a moment, and then the barrier slammed back into place.

"Good night, Lieutenant," Janeway said.

"Good night, Captain."

She walked past him and out the door. Harry stood there for a moment, then a single thought pierced the veil over his mind:

*What the hell just happened here?*

* * *

Harry and Tom were still friends, but it wasn't like before.

Tom Paris had matured ten years in the first ten weeks of Miral's life. Captain Proton was gone. In his place was Tom Paris-- husband, crewmate, and above all, father. When Tom spoke endlessly of Miral, Harry could think of nothing to say himself. A small rift had formed between them. Torres and Paris gravitated to the other parents on the ship-- Ken Dalby and Jenny Delaney... Samantha Wildman... Crewman Jerron and Sue Nicolleti...

Harry found himself reaching out to the other person around him who seemed as adrift as he, and that person was Kathryn Janeway.

Harry had helped pull Janeway back together after Seven's death, and she returned his kindness with a new openness, free of the previous condescension. They'd slowly been forging a friendship, perhaps making up for the relationships they'd lost-- she with Chakotay, he with Tom.

She was less inclined to view him as a hopelessly naive ensign now, and he no longer saw in her an aloof paragon of maturity. As he considered it, they only had a fifteen year age difference, and now that he was into his thirties, it wasn't so large as to separate them.

When they met for dinner, the night after their "moment" (as he'd privately dubbed it) in his quarters, things seemed back to normal. They discussed ship's business... Laughed over Chakotay's misstep the previous week regarding the Moteran Prelate's daughter... They compared Ayala's abilities as security chief to Tuvok's... They discussed friends come and gone.

"I miss him, sometimes," Janeway said distantly.

"Tuvok?"

"Well, yes, Tuvok. Him, too."

Then, "You mean, Chakotay?"

She nodded. "It used to be so different. I don't know when the enmity grew stronger than the friendship."

Just then, Harry noticed Chakotay across the dining hall, receiving food from the prattling Bolian, Chell. She must have just noticed him.

"I always thought it was his marriage..." Harry said, looking at Janeway and feeling an unpleasant twinge of what might have been jealousy.

"No, it was before that. I used to think it was the Equinox incident, but it started even earlier."

"You two never seemed the same once Seven arrived," Harry observed.

"When we first encountered Species 8472, we had a fight. A bad one," Janeway conceded.

"Well, there you have it."

"Maybe." She pressed her lips closed tightly.

"It may be for the best. You grew in different directions," Harry remarked.

"Yes. But for a short time... it was a remarkable friendship."

She looked down at her plate, twirled her noodles with her fork.

"I'm sorry we missed the Italian last night..." Harry said apologetically when he noticed she hadn't eaten much.

"Oh, I'm not. I had a lot of fun." She smiled up at him then, and he returned it.

"Miral's a good kid. A bit of a handful, but a good kid," Harry said with a grin.

"With Tom and B'Elanna as her parents, it's no surprise," Janeway chuckled. He laughed some himself.

"You know," Harry said wickedly. "I always wondered about those kids you had with Paris." Janeway almost spit out her coffee. "What would they have been like as humans?"

"Oh, God, don't bring that up," Janeway moaned, fighting a grin. She raked a hand across her forehead.

"Probably as reckless and dramatic as you... as loud and raunchy as Tom..."

"They'd be demon children," Janeway replied with a laugh. "A menace to society."

Harry Kim leaned closer and asked quietly, "Do you remember anything... you know, from that time?"

Janeway colored a little, glanced around furtively, then beckoned him imperceptibly closer.

She leaned over to whisper in his ear, then said in a loud voice, "No!"

He pulled back and scowled at her. He couldn't hold the scorn for long before a smile broke across his features. She returned it with a beautiful grin of her own. And then it struck him.

*Shit. I'm in love with this woman.*

The wrong Delaney sister. Seven of Nine. A dead woman. A hologram. A woman from a xenophobic species. A terrorist.

Now the Captain.

But as they finished their meal, he realized that she wasn't simply the captain to him, and he wasn't simply young Ensign Kim to her anymore. And Harry Kim, the eternal optimist, set back on course to get his heart broken.

THE TWELFTH YEAR OF VOYAGER'S JOURNEY

When they entered the Volkari realm, the attacks were unstoppable.

The Volkari had thousands of ships, all willing to attack the moment Voyager came within sensor range. Their realm was seemingly endless, and their ill will towards Voyager unceasing. Though their weapons were primitive, they had a form of "ablative armor" that dampened the power of Voyager's torpedoes by almost half, and dragged out fights to the point where even their primitive projectile weapons could do serious damage.

Sixty-five days passed, and Voyager continued to limp through Volkari space. The hull was charred and scarred from constant attack, and decks twelve to fifteen had been shut down to conserve energy.

Two months of attacks had worn out Voyager's crew. Replicators were going offline constantly, and food from the hydroponics bay was running low. Tension ran high.

There was a fight in the mess hall one day. It seemed Freddy Bristow thought Billy Telfer had taken his daily allotment of food rations. A few days later, B'Elanna practically came to blows with Vorick in engineering.

Every morning for two months, Janeway wearily dragged herself into astrometrics to see Mortimer Harren fidgeting with the instruments.

"Mr. Harren. Location?"

He replied with thinly veiled irritation, "Practically the same place we were yesterday, Captain." He tapped a few buttons with undue force, and Voyager's location transposed on a map of Volkari space appeared on the large screen.

Janeway pursed her lips and scowled at the image. At this rate, it would take another six months to get out of this realm.

She heard a small noise issued from Mortimer Harren, and she looked over at him.

"What was that, Mr. Harren?"

He shifted his weight. "I fail to see your reasons for checking our position every morning, Captain," his voice was laced with his usual contempt. "If there's ever a significant change in our status, I'll let you know."

"There's something to be said for peace of mind, Mr. Harren," Janeway countered, and gestured towards the viewscreen with a flick of her finger. "Every light-year farther we get, the better I feel."

"In the meantime, you waste my time and yours, not to mention the power we expend calling up this image. I hope your... 'peace of mind' is worth the costs to this crew."

Her eyes glittered dangerously, and she slowly turned to face him. "What *exactly* are you saying, crewman?"

He let out a huff of air. "I'm saying that maybe if you spent more time on the bridge and less time down here, you could get us out of this godforsaken hole. We're losing more power every day, and people are getting nervous."

Janeway smiled without humor. "And you, of course, have always had your finger on the pulse of Voyager's popular opinion."

"Even an introvert can tell what this crew is feeling," he snapped back, meeting her gaze with a bold one of his own. "We think you're taking us to our deaths."

"And what choice do we have?" she retorted. "Go around Volkari space? You of all people should know that's impossible. It would take decades."

"I'm saying maybe we shouldn't have anything to do with it at all," he replied in a cold voice.

"Then what do we do?" Janeway fought to keep her voice from rising. "Give up? Settle?"

"It seems only practical. We'd only have a two month journey back. Maybe the Volkari would leave us alone if we'd retreat."

She scrutinized him. "Didn't you have more invested in the Alpha Quadrant than anyone, Mr. Harren? That Institute..?"

He scoffed. "Captain, I gave up on going to the institute the day you destroyed the array."

That stung her.

"You have never actually believed we'd get home..."

"One year, I did. Five years, maybe..." His voice seemed less harsh now. "Twelve years, captain... we're still here now, after twelve years of traveling, and I think we're going to die out here." He looked down, his expression frozen into a haughty, superior mask.

Janeway was speechless for a moment. Could the crew really feel that way?

"We've come this far. I'm not turning this ship around."

He looked up at her again. "Then I wouldn't deign to argue with you further, Captain. I'm not Seven of Nine. I can't hope to get away with it."

"And you're out of line, crewman," Janeway hissed.

He stopped talking, and turned back to his work.

Janeway glanced to her right to catch Ensign Icheb watching her. The former drone looked away quickly.

She straightened up, tugged down on her shirt. "I'll keep your concerns in mind, Mr. Harren," Janeway said in her most crisp voice. "In the meantime, I'd appreciate it if you'd continue to closely track our position."

"Yes, ma'am."

She paused in case of any lingering objections. When he dared voice none, she turned to leave astrometrics.

However, the encounter left her strangely shaken.

* * *

"He's just scared. And angry." Chakotay reassured her later as they sat quietly together in the ready room.

"But he's right."

"Captain--"

She picked up a padd she'd flung carelessly onto the desk before her. "Our food supplies are dangerously low. Mr. Chell estimates we've got a week, maybe two more. The crew's already starving, and the Doctor informs me I can't spread the rations any thinner without causing widespread malnutrition." She closed her eyes. "The last thing we need, there."

"We'll find a planet. We'll get food."

"The planets are all populated by Volkari, Chakotay. You know that." She sighed. "And then, there's the matter of the three crewmembers... three essential personnel we've lost in the last two weeks..."

"They're all essential personnel."

"Yes. They all are. And that makes this harder... because we're going to lose more, Chakotay. You know we're going to lose more."

The last few attacks, the Volkari had managed to penetrate the shields and actually beam aboard. They'd always been taken down quickly, but not before managing to kill a total of three crewmembers and wounding countless others.

Days turned into weeks... Janeway began to send boarding parties to crippled Volkari ships and had them stripped them of everything... power, equipment, food... But so rarely were these ships crippled, and so rarely did Voyager inflict enough damage so as to prevent their escape, that these raids were not enough to sustain the crew's needs.

Janeway put on her uniform every morning, feeling it grow looser and looser. She watched the people around her grow thinner and thinner, and every day more hopeless.

Some days Harry managed to cheer her up. He'd joke about his new ability to count his own ribs... He tried to bring some light to the situation... Sometimes it made her happy, others it just irritated her. Once, he joked that she should try cooking a pot roast. "Then we'll have some ablative armor to line our own hull." Janeway broke down into tears.

Shocked, and apologetic, he put his arms around her and tried to shush her. She drew back from him, laughing through her tears.

"It was funny, Harry, really... I'm just stressed... It's just stress..."

He stood there helplessly for a while, and she continued to laugh and cry intermittently. "Ablative armor.. my pot roast... that's accurate, all right..." And then she stiffened.

"Captain..?"

Her eyes were suddenly sharp. He could see that her mind was working quickly. "Harry, can you do something for me?"

"Anything."

"Volkari ships. I want you to compile every last sensor scan we have of that armor of theirs. Every last one."

"We've already analyzed a fragment for weaknesses--"

"I'm not looking for weaknesses." He could see her eyes glint as she rose to her feet, and any evidence of her tears had suddenly vanished. "I want to adapt it to our technology."

"Use their armor for Voyager?" He looked puzzled. "I thought B'Elanna said it was incompatible."

"*Their* armor is incompatible," Janeway replied excitedly. "But what if we constructed armor of our own? Starfleet technology... Starfleet armor? B'Elanna doesn't have time. The engineering personnel are all occupied. But I know enough... Harry... I need to see those specs... Harry... can you get those for me?"

He nodded briskly. "I'll get right on it."

He started out the door, only looking back once to catch a glance at her. She was pacing frenetically next to her desk, a new, nervous energy vibrating through her emaciated frame.

* * *

Shit. Shit shit shit.

She tried to fire at the one in front of her, but felt a sickening blow across the back of her head. Her knees collapsed underneath her, and the floor rushed up to meet her cheek. Her vision darkened, but she did not black out. She knew she was hurt, and hurt badly. She was going to be sick right here on the carpet.

No, that wasn't nausea... that was pain. Or dizziness. She couldn't distinguish as it rolled over her, over and over again.

"We've secured engineering," a distinctly alien voice barked somewhere in the distance. Janeway struggled to right herself, but her limbs felt like rubber, and she slumped back down to the floor.

Then strong arms, strong and gentle, scooped her up to her feet. One was around her waist, the other gripped her forearm. She opened her eyes to meet the concerned gaze of B'Elanna Torres. Dark blood ran down the engineer's forehead, a thin trickle of it.

"You okay, Captain?" she whispered.

Janeway was disoriented a moment. She couldn't recall...

A conference. She was meeting with B'Elanna about the ablative armor. She needed Torres's help with some design flaws she'd discovered.

Then the ship shook, and they were under attack.

*We're not ready!* Janeway thought in alarm, remembering that their shields were still crippled from the attack just that morning. She had to get to the turbolift. She had to be on the bridge.

And then the Volkari materialized all around them, and Kathryn had grabbed her phaser, and then she'd been clubbed across the back of the head.

Now Torres supported her, growing concern on the engineer's face. And hatred. Then Kathryn realized that the hatred was for the Volkari with the weapons pointed at them.

*Oh God, they have the ship,* Janeway thought with a sinking feeling.

"We're locked out of the computer. They've sealed us on this deck," one of the Volkari was saying, as if on cue. And Janeway sagged in relief. She felt Torres pat her reassuringly on the back.

The Volkari Commander turned to survey the Starfleet officers, all herded together under rifle point. Janeway pulled slightly away from B'Elanna's comforting grip to stand on her own as the olive-skinned, prominent-jowled alien glared at them with dark, beady eyes.

"Who is in charge here?"

Janeway felt Torres against her back, trying to step forward, but Janeway held her arm out to block the engineer's path.

"I am," Janeway replied boldly.

The Commander strode over to her, and stood before her a second, summing her up. He didn't seem particularly impressed, and abruptly snatched her by the shoulder and shoved her away from the rest of the group.

Weak from the blow, and light from malnutrition, Kathryn tumbled easily, and landed on her shoulder with a burst of unexpected pain. Her vision blackened around her again, but by that time, the Commander had flipped her onto her back with his boot, and hovered over her menacingly.

"You will give me the codes to gain access to the rest of the ship."

"No."

He reached down, and Janeway cringed as his gloved hand encircled her neck. Then, he lifted her to her feet, then higher to where her toes barely brushed the ground. Her head grew light, and she couldn't draw a breath against his grip. She pulled at his fingers frantically, then felt herself grow light...

He held her there a long moment, his eyes boring into hers until he seemed to sense she could take no more. Then he released her. Her legs predictably collapsed beneath her.

"The codes."

Janeway gasped for breath. It hurt to breath. She could barely get out, "When my crew comes down here... they'll kill you..."

He raised a fist as if to strike her, and she flinched back. Then he seemed to have second thoughts.

"No..." He straightened, then turned to survey the group of fearful crewmen. He walked back towards them, grabbed Jenny Delaney, and hauled her forward for Janeway's inspection.

"Leave her alone," Janeway growled.

"Observe," he intoned. Before she realized what he was doing, he'd slipped a dagger from his waist and plunged it through the poor girl's abdomen.

Janeway cried out as Jenny Delaney did, and instinctively started forward, only to stumble to her knees again. One of the Volkari drew forward to stand between her and the Commander. The Volkari leader tightened his grip on the dagger, held the agonized Delaney sister in place, and then with one firm yank dragged the blade up to her chest.

When he pulled it out again, the girl slumped to the floor. There was no question she was dead. Sounds of fear and anger came from the huddled group of crewmembers, and only Crewman Jarvis's hand clamped on Megan Delaney's mouth kept her screams from filling engineering.

Janeway crouched on the floor, trembling in shock and rage.

The Commander sneered at her, and then surveyed the engineering staff. "I count another fourteen crewmen here, woman. Must I kill all of them for you to release those codes to me?"

Janeway stared at Jenny's body. Her voice shook. "Don't. They didn't do anything to you. I'm the one..."

"Then open the ship to us."

"I can't!" Janeway rasped.

He shrugged. "Very well."

And then Noah Lessing was in hand, and the young man's face contorted in agony as the Commander plunged the dagger into him. Moments later, he was split open to the chest, too, and the young man fell to the ground, dead.

*Dear God, he's going to do this to all of them.*

"The codes, Captain."

"If you kill another one, I'll *never* give you the codes."

"I don't believe that. Perhaps she will be incentive for you," and he ripped Megan Delaney out of Jarvis's arms. Moments later, she joined her twin sister on the floor of engineering.

"You bastard... I'll fucking kill you..." Janeway heard herself muttering. She was shaking so hard she could barely keep her knees under her. "You can't kill them all... I'll never tell you then... You can't make me..."

"...If I still don't have the codes after they're all dead, then I will beat them out of you. Really, it's simple captain..." his words faded out of her hearing, and she was shaking her head. It came down to, "Tell me now!"

Tal Celes in his arms. The wide-eyed Bajoran stood paralyzed with fear.

*I'm not a part of Voyager... I just live here...* The heartbreaking words she'd told Janeway a few years earlier. Kathryn had her transferred to Engineering. She'd sent her to her death.

"Please... don't ask me for what I can't give!"

Tal Celes... Dead on the floor.

Jerron next. Nichols. His hands were soaked in their blood. The floor was littered with their bodies.

"All your fault, Captain. You've killed each of them," he told her. Heartless, ruthless bastard.

He grabbed B'Elanna.

And then security was in engineering, and the Volkari were dead. Phasers that had been at stun were switched to kill when the carnage in engineering came into view.

Janeway huddled on the floor, unseeing, sickened. Then someone's arms were around her, helping her to her feet, helping her down the corridor.

She ripped away and collapsed to her knees, retching.

He caressed her cheeks as he pulled her hair back from her face. His hand around her shoulder steadied her, prevented her from tumbling over into her own vomit. When she started to sob, heedless and oblivious to those shuffling out of engineering, he had the presence of mind to pick her up and carry her into empty quarters. He cradled her in his arms as she released her agony, guilt, horror.

She clamped her hands over her eyes and face for the longest time, the longest time, shutting out the horrors of the past hour. Megan. Jenny. Celes. Jerron. Lessing. Nichols. Seven...

She almost wretched again, but found herself dry heaving painfully. And he stroked her back.

The hand continued, moving gently back and forth as she continued to shiver.

Then a gentle, tender voice, "It's okay. It's all right, Kathryn. You did the only thing you could. If you'd told him, we'd all be dead now. You saved us... You couldn't have done it any differently."

And it wasn't the voice she'd expected. It was almost the voice of a stranger. She knew him, but in her pain, she was beyond shock, beyond surprise.

She stayed curled up, her hands clamped suffocatingly tight over her face, trembling in her own private hell for hours until she passed out from she sheer stress of it all.

Chakotay stayed beside her the whole time.

* * *

The senior staff walked on eggshells around her as soon as she was fit for duty. They all held their breath, fearing that she'd relapse into the depression from Seven's death.

She didn't. She knew, and they knew, that she couldn't indulge in that again. Not here. Not now.

The faces haunted her. The six crewmen dead that day. She couldn't sleep for more than an hour, even two, without waking up as though someone had slapped her.

Her hands would start trembling. She never knew why they started, or why they'd stop again. The Doctor attributed it to nerves. She stopped thinking about it after a while.

The day after, engineering was cleaned up. The staff had been dramatically reduced, and Janeway transferred crewmen from the sciences to begin half-hearted training in ship repair. Naomi Wildman overnight became an ensign, and served as a filler crewmember for whatever post was necessary at the time. Even little Miral's limited knowledge of basic machinery came into use.

And Janeway ordered the Doctor to leave all bodies, both enemy and friend, on the freezing deck 14.

"Why, may I ask?" The Doctor demanded when she made the order.

"Emergencies, doctor. Emergencies," she replied cryptically. He didn't learn for nearly a month just what she had in mind.

The day came when they were nearly out of food. Fainting spells on duty were commonplace, and many of the crew were having difficulty rising in the morning. Janeway stopped into sickbay to visit the Doctor.

"Doctor... deck 14..."

"The preserved bodies. Yes, what about them?"

"I want you to retrieve the Volkari bodies. Right now."

Warily, the EMH did as she asked, and soon had the Volkari stretched out on the biobeds.

"Captain..?"

Janeway closed her eyes, her pale, sunken cheeks suddenly aflame. "I want you to scan them... See if they're edible."

"Captain..." he murmured in horror.

Janeway opened her eyes, two sharp, blue crystals, burning with a frightening intensity. She stood there, dirty, unruffled, aged ten years in a few months, half doubled over with starvation. She seemed to grow into something powerful, powerful and terrible before his eyes.

"My crew is starving to death."

The Doctor ran the tricorder up and down a Volkari male. His dark eyes flickered back to her. "He's perfectly edible. You could taste him now, if you'd like." He said the words with undue harshness, and then suddenly felt ashamed. She didn't seem to notice.

She reached out a hand to feel the Volkari's rough flesh. He noticed her fingers were trembling violently. "Then this is what we'll have to do."

* * *

Chakotay entered her ready room to find her contemplating a plate before her. His heart jumped in his chest, and he was suddenly urgently aware of his hunger.

It looked like meat of some kind... But at this point, he couldn't care less.

"Kathryn..." His voice was strained.

Janeway looked up at him, the look in her eyes unsettling.

"Where'd you get... food?"

She reached out, pulled a bit off. Her hand was trembling. "I'd been trying to work up the courage to try some."

He gazed at her steadily, and she slowly brought the bit to her mouth. She chewed for a second, seemed to have difficulty swallowing, and then it was done.

"Where..." his voice sounded hollow.

Her eyes swept back up to his, glittering. "They're animals, Chakotay. No, not animals. You saw what they did in engineering. They're beasts."

And he understood her.

"Please tell me you understand."

He approached the desk slowly, and lowered himself into the chair across from her. His own hand shook as he pulled some off for himself.

After he swallowed, holding her eyes the whole time, she knew he understood.

"Can you inform Mr. Chell?" she said quietly.

He nodded grimly. "Anything in particular you want me to tell him?"

"Tell him..." she paused, a strange expression on her face. "Tell him they taste a bit like chicken."

In retrospect, it was the joke that disturbed him the most.



Part Three

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