Many hours later, the doctor released the captain from Sickbay sooner than expected. At the time, he decided that it was the sanest course of action for all involved. She was irritating him, he was irritating her, she was eager to return to her duties, and he was eager to get rid of her sulking presence from his medical facility. If he'd thought Commander Chakotay had been looking morose lately, then Captain Janeway was positively depressed. Of course, he ruminated satirically, being the target of an assassin was bound to have that affect on anybody. He wisely chose not to comment on that state of affairs.

So it was that the captain found herself alone for the first time in what seemed like days. Kathryn sighed into the quiet solitude of her quarters. The sound was instantly soaked up by the carpet and furniture, and no echo bounced off the walls here as her sighs had in Sickbay. It felt good to be surrounded by her own belongings again, to not hear the incessant beeping of the Sickbay monitors, or have the watchful gaze of the doctor constantly on her. Privacy was not something she was much accustomed to - a life spent exploring space had a price to exact from everybody - but she found the time alone now to be better therapy than anything the doctor might have devised for her. She intended to take full advantage of it, for she knew that crew demands would intrude on her seclusion soon enough. If she were lucky, she might have time for food, a shower, and the opportunity to continue the research she had started in Sickbay before the intrusions began.

Unfortunately, it didn't work out that way. Her intentions were good, but she was unable to keep from dwelling on her earlier conversation with Chakotay. Thoughts of him intruded on her quiet meal, invaded what should have been a soothing shower, and interrupted her concentration to such a degree that she could progress no further in her research than taking a seat in front of her computer. Kathryn sat and stared at the blank screen, completely absorbed in making herself miserable.

What had possessed her to ask such a question as she'd asked him earlier in Sickbay? Of course, the doctor had certainly encouraged the asking, but she had forced them to embark on the conversation willingly enough. Asking such a thing of Chakotay at this time, with their relationship in its currently undefined state, could hardly have produced anything remotely positive. She understood the hidden meaning in the way he'd chosen to answer her query. He hadn't said that he wasn't comfortable enough to talk to her about personal issues, but he hadn't answered at all, really. His lack of an answer was more of an answer than his reply had been. He wouldn't come to her, for a personal discussion, or perhaps for any discussion. She had suspected that before she'd even asked. He was far more likely to go to B'Elanna for advice or help. She was glad that he had such a friend on board the ship, someone he could trust and enjoy, but she was saddened by it at the same time. She used to entertain the thought that one day she would share that same type of relationship with him. Now she knew better.

How had it come to this? Where had they gone wrong? Somewhere during the course of their journey, something had happened to prompt the growth of the large chasm that existed between them. Was it only her attitude, that ever-present need to keep him at arms' length, or was it something more, something that he had contributed to the situation as well? It was true that she consistently pushed aside any friendly overtures he might make, but at the same time he didn't always make it easy for her to attempt those same overtures in return. He had a way of being the stoic native, the pristine first officer that didn't invite friendship. It was as if he wasn't interested, and despite her natural flare for command, she had never managed to cultivate a way to bridge the gap between herself, her position, and her officers. Though Chakotay was as close to an equal as she was ever likely to find in the Delta Quadrant, there were times that he was so reserved that she felt like an intruder in his life. The fact that she was more than likely the cause for his withdrawal didn't make her feel any better. She didn't know how to move beyond her instincts to hold back and his instincts to protect himself. It was a mess no matter how she looked at it.

Her thoughts were so discordant that eventually she gave up any hope of accomplishing anything at her computer. Her work didn't matter, anyway. Not any more. Her command staff was intelligent enough to figure out what she already suspected: she was being assassinated. Some person among her crew disagreed with her command so much that he or she felt eliminating her was the only option left to initiate change. A portion of her depression stemmed from her own bleak worries that whoever it was might be right. She had never doubted her command policies before, but she'd never had need to before now. In the past she had made the best decisions she could, and the crew had supported those choices, even the unpopular ones. Or she thought she'd been supported. Obviously that wasn't the case any longer. She wasn't entirely certain that the coffee incident had been an attack on her life, but there was no doubt in her mind as to the reason for the gas spewed into her quarters. Something like that didn't happen by accident, not on Voyager.

Kathryn rose from her chair and restlessly paced across the room. Her pacing took her past a mirror embedded in the wall of her bedroom, and she inadvertently glanced at her reflection. Dressed in her uniform once again, her hair swept up and back from her face with simple clips, she looked every inch the captain. Outwardly, she appeared calm, efficient, and in control; hardly an easy target for even a professional assassin. Inwardly, though, she was terrified.

Her door chimed.

Kathryn jumped, a testimony to her emotional state. Professional or not, whoever was making these attempts had her completely paranoid. She knew that she needed to get control of her fear or it would eventually take control of her, leaving her vulnerable and helpless. However, she wasn't sure she could handle this situation by herself, and the one person she might count on to help and understand couldn't even talk to her.

At least I know I have a successful isolation policy, she told herself scornfully.

The door chimed again. Quickly she grabbed the phaser she'd set on her desk specifically for this purpose and hid it behind her right leg, then took a position in the shadows near the door. She called cautiously, Yes?

Captain, may I come in?

It was Tuvok. The breath that she'd been holding burst past her clenched teeth in a rush of relief. She could trust Tuvok... or, at least, she thought she could trust Tuvok. Technically, she shouldn't be trusting anybody.... Stop! she ordered herself before panic had a chance to crush her resolve. She swallowed thick bile that had collected in the back of her throat, then hoarsely ordered, Come.

The door slid away and Tuvok entered. He looked like he always did: stiff, Starfleet, and Vulcan, all of which she found infinitely comforting. She noted immediately that he was holding nothing in his hands, not even a data padd, and she suddenly felt ridiculous for carrying a phaser to the door of her own quarters.

The security officer eyed her as thoroughly as she had scrutinized him. The phaser is a wise precaution, Captain, he said solemnly, covering her embarrassment for her.

So. Tuvok wasn't going to pretend that she didn't have a care in the world other than recuperating from unscheduled lung surgery. He planned to be honest and blunt. That was very like him. Tuvok had never been one to hide from the truth. She was grateful that he had decided not to hide the truth from her, either. Kathryn glanced at the phaser, acknowledging what it represented before she replaced it on her desk and motioned for him to come further into the room. Lieutenant Commander Tuvok, she began, falling back on protocol to help her through this first encounter with a crewmember since her discovery of the assassination attempts. The custom of protocol had always been a safety net for her, much as hiding behind his heritage was for Chakotay, or venerating the powers of logic was for Tuvok. It seemed like there was always some way to hide if one wanted to badly enough.

Captain, Tuvok greeted in return. I was surprised to find that the doctor had released you from Sickbay so quickly, he began immediately.

Kathryn sighed. Released is a kind word, Tuvok. Expelled is more accurate. Let me just say that if I hadn't left, more surgery might have been necessary, for both me and the doctor.

Tuvok's brow furrowed in concern. I was hoping that you would remain interred with the doctor for an indefinite period of time. Janeway's eyes grew wide in alarm at the thought. You were safe in Sickbay, he added at her stricken expression.

Safe, yes, but well on my way to insanity. I guess there are more ways to kill a captain than the acceptable methods.

At her biting tone, Tuvok's concern relaxed into frustrated reluctance. It is apparent that I will not be able to convince you to return to Sickbay any time soon.

She shook her head and firmly said, No.

Very well, he capitulated. But I would be failing in my duty as your security officer if I did not point out that you are a much easier target outside the realm of Sickbay's self-contained force fields.

She placed her hands on her hips and sighed heavily. Tuvok, somebody on this ship wants me dead. A simple force field is certainly not going to deter anybody for long. And besides, she continued, the corners of her mouth lifting in the first hint of humor she had displayed in days, what if the assassin is the doctor?

Tuvok quickly said, The doctor is incapable of causing harm to -

It was a joke, Tuvok, she explained, then found she didn't have the energy to continue her explanation or even to laugh at the halfhearted attempt to lighten what was still a dire situation. Forget it. She issued another heavy sigh. Perhaps returning to the dictates of protocol would hurry this meeting along. Do you have something to report, Tuvok?

Tuvok appeared relieved to be on more familiar ground as well. Yes, Captain. From our conversation thus far I believe it is safe to assume that you are aware of several attempts by a member of this crew to have you killed.

She almost smiled again. He made it sound as if dispatching the captain of the ship was as mundane a task as running a sensor diagnostic. Yes, I'm aware of it.

Then I will brief you on what I have uncovered so far.

Tuvok related everything he knew in his flat, dispassionate tone. Janeway listened, and grew more and more numb by degrees. Tuvok was just giving a report, she knew, but his descriptions of the details of the two attempts were almost too emotionless. Because he only had facts at this point, and no charged agendas that had prompted what were, in effect, acts of treason, Tuvok's account made the entire situation extremely impersonal. But she could attest that her current situation was more personal than anything she had ever been involved in before. As a captain, she had no experience in dealing with the crew on a personal level. She felt like she'd suddenly been thrust into an alien universe without a translator. She needed help. She needed Chakotay. He had a way with people, with the crew, that she would never be able to duplicate. But he wasn't likely to be available. She'd made sure of that.

So you suspect that my experience with the coffee was not allergies as the doctor diagnosed, she said once he finished, putting a tight rein on her thoughts.

Tuvok stated, That is correct.

Janeway cocked an eyebrow and commented ruefully, Well, at least I can stop worrying about suddenly developing allergies to coffee. That's some good news, anyway.

Tuvok paused in his report to look carefully at Janeway. Captain, I am puzzled by your cavalier attitude towards these events. Being relieved that you can still drink coffee without the unpleasant effects of allergies will be of no benefit to you if you are dead.

She gave him a light clap on his shoulder. Just trying to look on the bright side, Mr. Tuvok, she said, though her words lacked any amount of brightness. She went on, I'm almost afraid to ask, but do you have any idea who's behind all this? Any motives or threats whispered in the turbolift?

Tuvok's brow rose at her further attempts at humor, but he hesitated slightly before answering. Nothing concrete, Captain, was all he said.

She called him on his hesitation instantly. You hesitated just for a second there, Tuvok. What is it?

Tuvok looked confused at how to answer, and annoyed at his slip. My investigation is progressing slowly, he explained, hoping that his words would mollify her.

They didn't. Meaning what? Suddenly she was angry - angry at Tuvok for trying to protect her, angry at a crew who felt these actions were necessary, but mostly she was angry at herself for being in this position in the first place. Don't withhold information from me, Tuvok.

Divulging the identity of a possible suspect would serve little purpose, Captain, other than to make you needlessly cautious of certain members of your crew -

Who? she demanded.

There is no one at this time, Tuvok continued stubbornly.

Then what leads do you have? she asked, equally as stubborn. Tuvok remained silent. She cocked her head to one side, regarding him for a moment from the corners of her eyes. Coyly she drawled, Surely Chief Inspector Tuvok has been diligent enough in his investigation that he's uncovered something that resembles evidence. Hmm?

Tuvok recognized the dangerous expression that had crossed her face. She would not be put off, even for her own good. With a sigh of regret, he nodded once, then said, I have interviewed several members of the crew, most notably those officers with clearance high enough to obtain the benzonyte and who had the means to build such a device as the one I found in your ventilation system. The list was not a long one.

This stunned Janeway for a second. In all the time she had spent in Sickbay going over the two assassination attempts, she had never considered clearance levels. Clearance can be forged, she stated, suddenly unable to even comprehend what Tuvok was suggesting.

The Vulcan's eyebrows rose minutely. I found no evidence of tampering in the computer system.

She countered, Tampering can be covered.

Tuvok sighed. That is exactly what Commander Chakotay said.

Janeway was stunned into complete silence this time. She heard her breath come out in short puffs of air, but the words she wanted to say were frozen somewhere between her brain and her ailing lungs. When she could speak, she licked her lips and calmly said, You spoke to Chakotay about this?

Yes, Tuvok replied, unaware of the sudden effect his news had on the captain. We had a lengthy discussion early this morning.

Chakotay had known about her situation for hours... and he hadn't even spoken to her about it yet? She felt like she'd been punched. Always before he had been there, available when she needed his help and support. She needed it now more than ever and he was conspicuously absent.

Then again, so were the rest of the senior officers.

This is bad, she said to herself in what was probably the biggest understatement of her career.

Tuvok had continued with his report, and she forced her attention back to his words. ... most adamantly denied that allegation, though I expected nothing less of him. Still, despite my lack of convincing evidence and his denial, he is my prime suspect at this time.

The breath was painfully sucked from her lungs for the second time. If she had just heard correctly - What? she managed to gasp. What did you say?

Tuvok's demeanor began to show definite signs of discomfort. He repeated, I spoke to Commander Chakotay regarding my suspicions of his possible actions during the last few days. Because I have discovered nothing to either refute my theories or to support his denials, he remains my prime suspect.

Janeway stared in blank astonishment at Lieutenant Commander Tuvok. She could hardly believe what she'd just heard. She would have dismissed it completely if anybody but the Vulcan had spoken. But she knew Vulcans, and she especially knew Tuvok. Neither lied. Oh, Tuvok, she whispered, her voice deceptively soft and controlled. Beneath the surface of her words, leashed by the tight grip she had on her emotions, stirred a deep horror. She was beginning to understand Chakotay's absence: Tuvok actually thought he was capable of.... She shook her head and sank down into the soft cushions of a chair. If she survived these assassination attempts, they were all going to have one hell of a time surviving the aftermath.

As acting captain of this ship, he has the right to know of my findings, Tuvok said, defending his actions. Conducting such an interview with the commander also gave me the opportunity to observe his reactions to my hypothesis.

Kathryn was shaking her head. He didn't do this. Tuvok, you don't know Chakotay like I do. He wouldn't -

Tuvok moved closer to where she sat in the chair, staring blankly up at him. Regardless of how well I know the commander, he has the means, the opportunity, and the motive. Thus far I have been unable to formulate the same for any other member of the crew.

Kathryn bristled, the blankness leaving her eyes. Motive. Do you care to explain, Mr. Tuvok?

He wishes to be captain of Voyager, Tuvok reported emotionlessly.

Janeway could do nothing but sit, stunned. You're wrong, she said at last.

Tuvok acknowledged her statement with a nod of his head. That was his response as well. However, it is my opinion -

She lunged out of her chair, her previous shock giving way to astonished anger. Damn your opinions! Think, Tuvok! This is Chakotay you're accusing. He has been an exemplary first officer on this ship for years. He cares deeply for every member of this crew. He would never do such a thing as attempt to kill the captain.

Perhaps you are too close to this situation to use proper judgment, Captain.

I am not too close! she retorted hotly. You will not... this - She stopped. Arguing in this manner would accomplish nothing. If she was to change Tuvok's opinions, she would have to do it with logic and facts, not emotional outbursts more befitting a teenager. She would have to tell him the truth.

Of course, the truth was never concrete either. Truth, like reality, was fluid and changing constantly, depending on who was doing the interpretation. The interpretation itself depended on how much of the truth was revealed. If she wasn't careful, she could reveal too much too soon and conceivably compound the damage already sustained, making it impossible for any of them to recover enough to keep the command structure intact, to say nothing of getting the rest of the way home. At the same time, someone had already tried to kill her twice. If they tried a third time and succeeded, the damage could be equally as irreparable. Someone would lose no matter what she did.

Kathryn chose to try to keep the damage to a minimum. She hoped the crew would understand. If they didn't, she would probably know soon enough. Tuvok, I want you to take a different angle with your investigation, she said, the order a quiet contrast to her previous outburst. Talk to Ensign Ayala, Lieutenant Walsh, and Ensign Chell for starters. Don't make any accusations, she cautioned, just find out what they know about benzonyte and clearance codes. Since Ayala is part of Security, I imagine he knows more about clearance than the others. Check their files; you might find something unusual that I missed when I did my own research in Sickbay. Report back when you're done. We'll see what you discover, and go from there.

By Tuvok's expression, it was obvious he was struggling to comprehend such an unexpected order. Captain, I confess that I do not understand. I will do as you request, of course, but I fail to see what this has to do with the assassination attempts or Commander Chakotay.

Janeway glared at him, too tired and sick to keep herself under such control for long. This has everything to do with the attempts, and nothing to do with the commander. I thought I had made myself clear: Chakotay is not involved with the attacks on my life.

Tuvok still looked confused. May I ask what makes you so certain? You do not know him so well that -

I know that he loves me, Tuvok.

Tuvok's brows rose, his only indication of any reaction to her words. He stared at her. Yes, that was his reasoning as well.

It was Janeway's turn to be completely taken aback. She was so surprised that for a moment she couldn't say anything at all. This was not a truth that she was prepared to discuss, despite having years to invent a plan of action in case the opportunity ever arose. She had convinced herself so thoroughly that the time would never come that she hadn't given serious thought to such a plan. Now she was rendered mute until she gasped a breath and ridiculously blurted, He told you that?

Tuvok chose to continue the conversation as a report to a superior officer, as it had started, but his discomfort with the tangent his report had taken was apparent in his downcast eyes and hesitation. The commander claimed that the state of his emotions would not allow him to harm you in any way, he started, then went on to say, How much truth I can give to his confession and the conclusions he drew is yet to be determined. He may also love being captain of this ship, he pointed out relentlessly.

Kathryn sighed. She was so tired. Her bones suddenly ached with weariness. She was beginning to second guess her choice to leave Sickbay so soon. Even the doctor's irascibility was preferable to this. Oh, it's true enough, she said, unable to go into any more detail. I know that much at least.

But you have not said that you love him in return, Tuvok pointed out.

No, I have not, she said. Her tone was surprisingly full of regret.

I have my doubts that the commander has the ability to withstand such constant rejection without eventual reprisal of some kind, Tuvok announced next. Perhaps this is a manifestation of his... frustration.

She glanced at him, and shook her head. He loves me more than this rank, Tuvok. When he looked like he wanted to protest again, she held up a hand, commanding silence. I know what I'm talking about. He's had ample opportunity in the past to say or do something of this nature if he felt it was necessary. Her gaze locked on to his, punctuating her words. He's never said anything, he's never done anything except stand consistently by my side, even when he thoroughly disagreed with my decisions. She dropped her gaze now, and shook her head sadly. And I have just as consistently abused that tie between us. I've used his feelings for me to sway his opinions, I've disregarded his feelings to get what I wanted when I wanted it, I've even.... The confession stopped there, as if she was saying too much. Finally she looked up at him, a rueful twist to her lips. Frankly, if Chakotay was trying to kill me, I can't say that I'd blame him. But he isn't.

Tuvok considered her words. It was obvious by the expression on her face that she wasn't telling him everything, but such a personal subject did not require detailed explanations. She had divulged enough for him to accept her orders, and for him to fully realize the predicament he had caused by interviewing the commander in the first place. I believe that I made a mistake in speaking with Commander Chakotay as I did. There is a good chance that my accusations have undermined the command relationship.

Janeway agreed with him, but saw no point in worrying about that now. We'll deal with that later, Tuvok. Right now we have to figure out who's doing what and stop them before I'm nothing more than a smear on the floor. If I'm dead, there won't be a command relationship left to undermine. I'll continue my own investigation from here.

Do you have suspicions as to the identity of the assassin? he asked before turning for the door.

Oh, I have plenty of suspicions. But as you say, nothing concrete.

I advise that you use extreme caution in your research. I have sealed off your quarters, and only your voice code will release the security measures, but this assassin is clever and ingenious. Please be careful, Captain, he admonished.

She nodded, accepting his attempts to at least try to keep her safe. You too, she said, then the door closed behind him, leaving her once again encased in silence.

Kathryn didn't return to her computer terminal immediately. Instead she sank gratefully back into the chair and let the heaviness of that silence drown her senses to nothingness. She felt numb, sick, and defeated. She had managed to hide the horror she felt from Tuvok, but she couldn't endeavor to do the same for herself. Her mind was in turmoil. Through all the thoughts swirling in an unchecked, jumbled mess, one repeated itself over and over again: a sense of great sorrow.

She'd made a mess of everything, in more ways than she could even comprehend at one time. Her actions over the recent years might someday be commended by Starfleet Command, but once the crew discovered the real state of affairs, she doubted that they would have enough respect left for her to allow her to retain her position as captain. For the first time she considered stepping down now, leaving Chakotay in charge, and saving everybody the trouble of killing her. As she'd always known, Chakotay was an able captain in his own right, and would be capable of giving the crew the type of commanding officer that she suspected they wanted and needed. She was only beginning to understand these desires on the part of the crew herself, and she instinctively knew that she didn't have the qualities needed to create the type of command environment that Chakotay could. At this point in their journey, their survival was moving into realms that were simply beyond her purview, and she knew it.

A central issue in this mess was her inability to let Chakotay become completely involved in the first place. Had she been able to trust herself as well as Chakotay from the very beginning, none of this would have happened. But she'd been faced with a situation that the Academy had not prepared her for. She doubted those venerated Academy professors would even conceive the possibility of her situation, and if they did, wouldn't know what to do about it any better than she had. There were just some areas where Starfleet ideologies were destined to fail, and as Kathryn Janeway embodied Starfleet, she had failed. Badly.

The worst part for her was that she could never tell Chakotay. The walls and emotional barriers between them that she had painstakingly built and fortified over the years were too strong. If she tried to tell him now, he wouldn't believe her. He would probably think she was using a confession to try to fix what she had so thoughtlessly taken for granted and broken. In the end they would both be humiliated, and he had already suffered enough. If he didn't figure all this out on his own, she would never tell him. She was done adding to Chakotay's burdens.

Eventually Janeway abandoned her chair and moved back to the computer, but she still didn't accomplish any work. She sat and stared at the blank screen, surrounded by emptiness, alone in the silence of her quarters.

Chakotay sat in stony silence in his chair on the Bridge. A shroud of doom hung over him, and the unforgiving expression on his face encouraged his fellow crewmembers to stay as far from him as their duties allowed. The terminal screen he shared with the captain was in its upright position, but he had finished with it long ago. Now the blank screen taunted him, symbolizing how he'd been left in the dark, how he'd never been completely invited into Janeway's command structure. His only comfort was that, in this intrigue at least, Tuvok had not been included either. Given the situation, it was a bitter consolation.

He couldn't believe that in all this time, Janeway had never told him. The situation he had uncovered that day had been going on for months, maybe even a year, and she had said nothing. He would have remained ignorant for the rest of the journey if Tuvok hadn't accused him of trying to kill the captain, thus prompting him to start his own investigation into the assassination attempts. What he'd found amazed and scared him. He'd discovered that those attempts on Janeway were simply a symptom of a much larger problem: the New Home Group.

From what Chakotay had read, the Group was a collection of crewmembers interested in making Voyager into a real community. It was an admirable objective, and one consistent with many of the captain's goals for the crew. The entire idea was something the command team had endorsed from the very onset of their journey back to the Alpha Quadrant: Humans needed closeness and a sense of community to survive. Janeway liked to make speeches about the closeness of the crew, and use words like family when referring to them, but these individuals were committed to the idea of creating families beyond even what Janeway purported to support. However, there had been a surprisingly limited response to the captain's encouraging words and speeches, perhaps with good reason, as Chakotay had discovered. The last few months had disclosed that that's all the crew could take Janeway's speeches for: empty words. When it came to actively supporting her directives, she had backed out.

Not only had she backed out, but for some mysterious reason she had erased all evidence from the computer system. By digging through her daily schedule, he had detected random gaps, carefully and cleverly concealed. To the untrained eye, they would have gone undetected. But he hadn't been the head of a Maquis cell for nothing. He'd seen them, and the further he looked in her schedule, the more he'd found. It took him the better part of two hours to unscramble the security locks she'd put in place. He'd been so frustrated near the end that he'd almost called on B'Elanna's considerable talents in this area, but he'd managed to crack Janeway's codes on his own. He was glad. It was hard enough to know that she had kept him out of the information loop - it wouldn't have been any easier trying to explain to B'Elanna what he didn't understand himself.

On the surface, the New Home Group was harmless. Their demands were reasonable and expected: they wanted the right to form families. However, he finally uncovered that they also wanted the freedom to leave the ship with these families when the opportunities arose, and there Janeway had balked. The good of the crew was paramount to her, and their survival depended on every member doing their part. They barely had enough trained personnel to run the ship as it was, and when several crewmembers came forward at once requesting permission to remain behind on one of the 'M' class planets and forge a life of their own, she had denied the request. The Group periodically sent representatives to speak with Janeway after that, trying to persuade her to change her mind, but the meetings had dwindled in frequency, then ceased altogether. The first attempt to kill the captain occurred approximately one week later.

It amazed Chakotay that he hadn't heard a thing about any of this. The Group's membership was passably impressive. If he could read between the lines of Janeway's accounts of the meetings, it appeared that different crewmembers were rotated as the group's representatives, and only recently had the same people spoken to her more than once. Chakotay wondered at the reasoning behind such a lack of hierarchy, and could only guess that they wanted to move away from the rigidity of Starfleet. Not choosing a single leader was an excellent way to rebel and still be in control. It also kept one person from controlling too much. If they were having problems with Janeway's command, he could understand why they wanted to keep the same problems from happening within the Group.

What he didn't understand was why they had chosen to bypass him in their quest to be heard. As first officer, he was the one person whose function was to listen to crew complaints and problems and do his best to deal with them fairly and equitably. They should have come to him first, giving them all a chance to solve these difficulties safely. If they had insisted on involving the captain, he would have been a great asset in getting their desires a fair hearing. He could have been a buffer between them and the captain. He might have been able to stop all of this from happening.

This missed opportunity infuriated him. He felt betrayed by Janeway for not informing him of the Group's existence during all this time, and by the Group itself for ignoring his obvious usefulness in the first place. At times like this he wondered why they bothered having a first officer on board at all. It was galling. Worst of all, he had no choice but to intervene now that he knew about it. At this awkward late date, he would have to speak with as many of the Group's members as he could uncover, making it look like he was coming in at the last minute just to save the captain's life, as if he didn't really care about the crew until they threatened a commanding officer. Then he would have to confront Janeway. She had made decisions without consulting him before, and he had always let her do it without making too much of a fuss in return. In the end, she was the captain, and the decisions were hers. But this time she had refused to even let him be aware of the situation, a situation that fell well within the guidelines of his duties and especially within his personal abilities. She had purposefully excluded him, and he damn well wanted to know why.

The thought enraged him to such an extent that he reached out to slam the console screen to its closed position just for the satisfaction of hearing the sharp noise crack across the Bridge. Several of the crew jumped in response to the sudden noise, and that satisfied him too. He felt it was time for a lot of people do some jumping, and he was definitely angry enough to make it happen. Deciding that he didn't want to wait until the end of his duty shift, he rose to his feet, calling, Ensign Kaplan, you have the Bridge until shift change. Notify Mr. Paris if anything requires the attention of a senior officer. I'll be in my office. Signing death warrants, he added silently, scowling. He whirled quickly away from his chair and stalked to the turbolift.

Chakotay made it only as far as the corridor leading to his office when B'Elanna Torres rounded the bend in front of him, cutting him off.

Have you heard? she demanded angrily the minute she could speak without having to yell down the corridor.

Chakotay stopped right outside his office, one finger poised to key in his entrance codes. A chill, one as threatening and heart-stopping as the ones he'd experienced during the interview with Tuvok, shot through his stomach. Something more had happened, something bad. Maybe as bad as the death of the captain. Heard what? he asked faintly.

B'Elanna hit the wall with her fist, an indication of her temper, but not a sign of mourning. He relaxed before she even began speaking. It's Tuvok! she spat, and paced to the other side of the corridor, snarled, then returned to his side. She was still growling low in her throat. He's questioning us!

Us who?

All of us! she answered. Me. Harry. Neelix. What we know about codes, about benzonyte, do we want to see changes on board, what changes would we like, what do we think of the command structure - It's as if he thinks... that I.... As if I could ever kill Captain Janeway! He's insane! It's a case of Vulcan logic gone ballistic!

Chakotay quirked a look at her, still too angry to enjoy the irony of B'Elanna's outburst. I can understand how you feel. But I think Tuvok's chasing the wrong people with this one.

She snorted. You're right! He needs to chase after Seven of Nine so I can be free to.... What do you mean? she demanded suddenly, her arms crossed and her eyes blazing.

What do you mean about Seven of Nine? Chakotay was trying hard to remember if Seven had been mentioned as part of the New Home Group or not. He'd seen so many names in Janeway's daily schedule that he'd stopped paying attention to individuals and simply thought of them as the Group. At the lieutenant's casual mention of the ex-Borg's name, he wondered if there was something more going on that he wasn't privy to.

B'Elanna didn't appear flustered at his question. She just snarled again and crossed her arms even harder. I always thought she might be capable of something like this, that's all. You know how she questions the captain's orders all the time. This whole thing is right up her implants. Borg law of assimilation number sixty-five: what you can't assimilate, destroy.

He was getting irritated with the direction of their conversation. One thing he didn't have the patience for was Torres's antipathy for Seven of Nine. Did you get a look at the gas device Tuvok found in the captain's ventilation system? he asked instead of responding to her accusation.

B'Elanna was beginning to forget her own anger long enough to comprehend his. His tone was a good indication that he was definitely not in a friendly mood. She uncrossed her arms and hurried to reply. I did. I even managed to run some scans through his 'fail-safe' stasis chamber. I couldn't detect any DNA residue on it. Either all the residue was destroyed, or whoever did this wore -

She was cut off by a piercing call from down the corridor. Commander!

Chakotay and B'Elanna glanced up, both surprised by the interruption. Joe Carey was running towards them, an expression of intense worry on his face. He stopped just short of colliding right in to Torres, and she barked, Carey, what....?

Lieutenant Carey cut off a superior for the first time in his life. I have to talk to you, Commander! he gasped, panting hard after his sprint down the corridor.

Surprised out of his foul mood, Chakotay was able to put out a calming hand in order to contain the man. Joe, slow down.

I don't have time to be slow! Carey exploded sharply. You have to understand! You have to listen -

Chakotay was scowling again. Until you can calm down enough to make sense, Lieutenant, I will finish my meeting with Ms. Torres, and then I'll -

Carey didn't let him finish. He gulped in a mouthful of air, then he interrupted a senior officer for the second time in his life. In a voice that was so deadly calm it was scary, he said, Chakotay. I need to talk, now.

Joe Carey had never neglected to use an official Starfleet title before. It was an oversight that could only mean that this was serious. Something in the man's demeanor arrested Chakotay before his temper exploded in an equally uncharacteristic display. He suddenly realized what Carey wanted to talk about. You know about them, don't you? About the New Home Group.

Yes, I know. I'm part of it. And I have to tell you before... before I change my mind, he ended in one fast breath, as if he feared that the possible change was imminent and out of his control.

B'Elanna was staring at Chakotay and Carey, confused. The home what? What are you two talking about?

Chakotay turned to B'Elanna. If Carey told him what he suspected he was going to tell him, B'Elanna might be better off not hearing about it. Knowledge like this could end the working relationship between Torres and Carey, and probably destroy the rest of the Engineering team as well. The effects could harm the entire crew of Voyager. Yet, he might need her help, the help of someone he could trust implicitly, and it would be advantageous if she knew everything he knew.

Chakotay keyed in his codes and his office door slid aside. He decided he would have to worry about the crew later. All right, get in, both of you."

Chapter 5 || Contents || Chapter 7