Chapter 4 || Contents || Chapter 6

Kathryn Janeway had a decision to make, and it was one she did not relish. She struggled with it even as she slept, lulled by the effects of the mild sedative administered by a suitably irate doctor. Left to herself in a darkened corner of Sickbay, images from the Alpha Quadrant and Voyager and the alternate universe collided to form convoluted dreams that inhibited any clear thoughts to an eventual solution. She felt a degree of urgency to come to some kind of conclusion, but her subconscious was reluctant to give up control to a more useful part of her brain. The decision whether to make contact and impart her knowledge of events to the next Kathryn Janeway in the succeeding universe or to follow her own directives on timeline pollution went undecided.

The dreams wore on, moving from scene to scene, image to image, displaying bits of her life both real and imagined in random, disjointed sequences. The Delta Quadrant gave way to childhood on Earth, replaced by the sound of a dog barking, which in turn transformed into monotonous beeping from a starship computer panel. The sounds wove a thread around the faceless forms that peopled her sleep, groups of figures that seemed equally familiar and strange to the convalescing figure tossing fitfully on the diagnostic bed.

Finally the jumble slowly settled into an uncertain calm. She had the sensation that somebody was holding her comfortingly, instilling her dreams with a sense of serenity. It was an impression she associated with her life prior to leaping across the galaxy, a connection to family and loved ones when she hadn't been responsible for such a multitude of people and problems. With this new facet of her dreams, she was able to relax, and at last she truly slept.

When she woke suddenly, alone and disoriented in the empty Sickbay, the weight and urgency of the need for a decision came crashing back into her conscious mind. Kathryn jerked into a sitting position, groaned, and battled a twisted gray blanket that was wrapped around her right arm and left leg. The comfort of her sleep was gone.

"Computer, time!" she commanded as her heart beat in a rapid and erratic tempo.

"The time is 01:30," the computer acknowledged promptly.

Only four hours had passed since she'd arrived in Sickbay. Her dreams had made it seem much longer, more like an eternity than a few hours of twisted sleep. Kathryn heaved a grateful sigh. Her fears were unfounded; there was still almost an entire day left before the approximate time of the next shift, if another shift occurred at all. She willed her heart to slow down and forced herself to take deep breaths. The tactic distilled her panic so that she could calmly glance around the room.

Sickbay was completely deserted. Even the doctor was not in evidence in his office. He must have deactivated himself not long after she had dozed off.

She frowned. She felt better, though hardly rested despite the few hours of sleep. With the help of pain killers, the ache around her midsection was dulled now, an annoyance more than anything incapacitating. But the doctor had been far from pleased to see his patient so soon after her first release. Kathryn had endured yet another lecture on the deplorable health habits of a certain captain, and she found she didn't really mind. She would have accepted far worse punishment to secure his promise to make the pain stop. For by the time Chakotay carried her as far as Sickbay, the pain had udoubtedly escalated. It was as if her body was determined to double her agony once she had decided to stop being a captain long enough to pay attention to its warnings. She supposed it was only fair after she had pushed herself so hard.

Kathryn sighed again, then reached to rearrange the blanket. Her feet were cold. She sat cross-legged on the bed and tucked her feet under her legs. With the blanket spread over her legs and secured under her toes, she felt a little warmer. But the room remained empty, and a sense of isolation settled over her. This being sick was not particularly fun business, she decided morosely.

The quiet was the worst part of Sickbay. Experimentally she cleared her throat, only to hear the sound echo back to her from the other end of the room. An eyebrow lifted to meet her hairline. She had always wondered about that - how such a sterile room might not soak up sound waves unless it was full of patients. Well, maybe two or three patients at least. Apparently one wasn't enough to make much of a difference.

You're stalling, she chided herself. Now that she knew she had enough time to study the pros and cons of her decision, she was reluctant to tackle any part of it. She wished she could talk about it with her animal guide, but the necessary equipment was in her ready room and she was in no condition to go strolling through the corridors on errands. Avoiding the subject altogether seemed to be the best approach at this point, unless....

Kathryn's fingers probed across her shoulder for her communicator, only to realize she wasn't wearing it. Naturally. A captain relieved of duty and restricted to Sickbay would hardly need a combadge. The doctor had obviously thought of everything short of physically restraining her to the bed. She couldn't even contact the Bridge to ask for the status of the ship. Another sigh slipped past her lips, this one with the slightest hint of unhappiness behind it. Kathryn Janeway, captain of the ship, abandoned in Sickbay, she thought ruefully, and managed a small smile at her own expense.

Maybe she should call forth the doctor. But she shuddered before the thought was entirely complete. The doctor would only harangue her further about duties to the crew and herself. She certainly didn't want to go through that again. And she couldn't truthfully claim that she had a justifiable cause for activating him. She wasn't hungry or in immediate medical danger or in need of help. She was only restless, and perhaps a little melancholy.

"Computer," she requested thoughtfully, "locate Commander Chakotay."

"Commander Chakotay is in his quarters."

Of course. Where else would he be in the middle of the night rotation? She had forgotten what time it was. He was probably sound asleep, as she should be. She didn't want to disturb anybody who was lucky enough to be getting their required rest.

Another sigh issued into the emptiness of Sickbay. Kathryn straightened her legs and carefully lay down, pulling the blanket up to her shoulders then folding it down so she could cross her arms on her chest. She stared into the darkness enshrouding the ceiling above her. This time there were no indicator lights blinking a friendly cadence over her head, no bioscanner disturbing her view of the room. There was only the deep silence, heavy with lonely emptiness.

"Computer, where is Lieutenant Tuvok?"

"Lieutenant Tuvok is on deck eight, corridor three, section a."

"Good. That means he's finally going to bed."

"Please specify command or request," the computer said.

"Never mind," Kathryn answered. A moment passed, then she nonchalantly inquired, "Computer, where is Commander Chakotay now?"

"Commander Chakotay is in his quarters."

Stop it, she ordered herself and shook her head, annoyed. There was never any point in trying to play with the computer; it was simply too literal. She needed to sleep, not torture ship's equipment. Besides, she firmly acknowledged, it was none of her business where her first officer chose to spend his free time.

She closed her eyes, but sleep eluded her. She tried turning on her side, but found that position too uncomfortable to hold for more than a few minutes. Now that the sedative had worn off, her injury recalled itself to her attention, and the more she thought about it, the worse it became. In an attempt to distract herself, she decided to call up some music. She hesitated, considering her choices. "Computer, activate program Janeway... twelve."

Quiet, sonorous music poured out of the sound system in Sickbay, instrumental melodies escorted by subdued hums and sustained monosyllables. What words the music included were in some unknown language, though occasionally she picked out a single word in basic. Kathryn closed her eyes again, letting herself slip into the sounds and go where they directed. Soon she found her mind drifting, roaming aimlessly from one subject to another. The earlier haphazard jumble of loud thoughts clamoring for attention were gone. She found herself thinking about Lieutenant Tuvok.

He was always so incredibly in control. She supposed he had strict meditation exercises that could be employed for the rare times sleep eluded him. Although, she had trouble thinking of Tuvok as a slave to insomnia. He was a man completely in control of himself and his environment.

And as to his advice on her current decision quandary - he would advise her not to make contact with the thirty-first realm of universal Janeways. From his perspective, a decision was not necessary. Starfleet personnel were strictly prohibited to interfere with time/space distortions. That rule was set, clear, concise, and held in almost as much regard as the Prime Directive.

Then why did she feel a compelling urge to go through with the shift in a manner similar to her twenty-nine predecessors?

She sighed heavily, uncomfortably confused.

What, she wondered suddenly, would Chakotay advise?

Kathryn wasn't sure what her first officer might say. He had maintained his belief that the shifts might be meant to happen, that her experience was possibly one of those things they might never fully understand. It was discomfiting to admit the possibility that she couldn't control a part of her environment the way Tuvok so capably controlled his. On the other hand, Chakotay seemingly had no problem accepting his lack of control over certain sections of his life. He had adapted to their plight in the Delta Quadrant with an ease she privately envied. It was as if he'd found his niche, the place he was meant to be. Part Starfleet, part Maquis, all Voyager.

Though Kathryn had trouble admitting it, even to herself, the commander truly fascinated her. He was... a very gentle man, she decided at last. Yet such a simple description seemed inadequate. A gentle warrior. A major contradiction? Kathryn wrinkled her brow at that. She had never thought of Chakotay as a man symbolizing two such opposing viewpoints. Now, however, the conflict seemed obvious. It surprised her that she hadn't thought of it before. She wondered how a man so thoroughly embodying peaceful attributes as Chakotay had felt about commanding a band of Maquis rebels. There was nothing remotely peaceful about the Maquis; she had never encountered a group of more base resistance fanatics in her entire career. But unlike some members of the Maquis, Chakotay's natural integrity had never diminished. He remained as stoic a Maquis as he had been a Starfleet officer. She knew that at least from reading his personnel file.

Stoic. An interesting word to choose, she thought. Tuvok was stoic. Anybody on the ship could tell her that. Vulcan's were stoic, and Tuvok was unarguably a Vulcan. He might even be growing more stoic with age, she believed, almost like a good wine. She grinned at that idea, but the sentiment faded as she considered the same behavior in the commander. Chakotay's impassiveness, though like Tuvok's in some respects, differed. He had a more tragic aura to him that the Vulcan lacked. It was almost as if Chakotay carried some deep sadness inside him. Kathryn pondered that, wondering what it might be. She wished she could ask him, but just the thought of probing such a personal issue made her feel unaccountably shy.

However, if that possibility were true, she continued to herself, it certainly didn't hinder his command abilities. He was steady, cool, calm in a crisis, and highly reliable. Boring, she thought suddenly, remembering the criteria some of her friends from her academy days might have used to label him. But Kathryn certainly didn't find that a fitting designation. She had known many men in her field who were far more quiet, tepid individuals than her first officer. Though soft-spoken, Chakotay was hardly the quiet type. Especially when he's mad at me, she reminded herself with a soft laugh, which turned into a groan and a wince as the pain momentarily reasserted itself. She concentrated on relaxing until it subsided.

The captain glanced around the Sickbay again. Her ramblings had kept her so well entertained that she had almost forgotten where she was. The pain reminded her quickly enough. Nothing had changed. She was still alone, with only her thoughts to keep her company. Thoughts of Chakotay. Kathryn swallowed and cleared her throat again to mask a sudden flush of discomfort.

She had heard some talk lately, among the crew, about the captain and the commander. It was only idle gossip, of course, of the kind that circulated on any confined starship during an extended mission. Crewmembers hooked one person up with another all the time, and most of the interest naturally centered on the command crew. There were stories about Kes and Neelix, B'Elanna Torres and Tom Paris, Kes and Tom Paris, practically any female crewmember and Tom Paris.... Matchmaking in general was rampant aboard Voyager. She scoffed at the rumors she had heard, knowing it was all just good-humored fun. Still, the speculating continued, and it secretly made her nervous.

But anything of that sort was impossible for her now. All her chances for a personal relationship had been left behind in the Alpha Quadrant. Somehow she expected everyone to know that the captain could never get involved with a member of her crew. It went against everything she'd been taught about command structure and behavior. One person singled out by the captain, perhaps receiving special considerations, could feasibly interrupt the discipline throughout the entire ship. That in turn could impair her authority. A simple disagreement between herself and the individual might lead to an ill chosen decision not to follow an order, which in turn could bring total disaster.

The reality of their situation was clear to her if not to the crew; the captain could not become romantically involved with anybody under her command. The risk was simply too great. She was the captain, would always be the captain, and if that meant being alone, so be it.

However, knowing this did not make accepting her present predicament any easier. It was fairly effortless to order herself to think a certain way; ordering her heart to feel the same had never been quite so simple.

Kathryn was suddenly enveloped in a deep sadness. She stared at the empty room and felt lost, as if she didn't know what she was supposed to do. Was this all there was for her in the Delta Quadrant? Perhaps she was destined to be nothing more than a leader, a figurehead, with no personal life to speak of. Alone. The concept loomed before her, even more dreary than being isolated in Sickbay. Seventy years suddenly felt like seven hundred years, all of them barren of the close family ties that she had taken for granted in the Alpha Quadrant. Here she had no sister and close friends, no parents, no boyfriend, no loved ones to speak of at all, not even her dog to comfort her.

And she wanted comfort. Being a strong captain took a lot of effort, and she just didn't have the energy anymore. She might have taken the Kazon attack in stride, but the additional stress caused by her visit to the alternate universe, the betrayal of the Caligrans, and the Vidiian ambush had weighed heavily on her. The hemorrhage proved to be the final blow. Now she was sick, in pain, and trying to live down a series of poor command decisions, not to mention a well deserved reprimand by her first officer. She felt paralyzed from coming to a decision of any kind about the upcoming shift. A captain unable to make decisions was a dangerous commodity aboard a starship. And when she did bother to think, thoughts of her first officer besieged her rather than the more accepted longings for Mark. What was wrong with her?

The sadness deepened further. Depression settled over her, growing heavier and heavier as she lay unmoving on the bio bed. Her thoughts spiraled down, dragging her with them, until a single tear leaked out of one eye. She brushed it away, but a second fell, followed by another and another. The tears continued until they turned into a deluge. She couldn't help herself. She turned her head to the side, as if to hide, but the movement did not remove her thoughts, and her misery intensified. Now she knew how it felt to be the other Janeway, even if her reasons were different, even if she thought those reasons weren't as good. It didn't matter. The sense of desolation and despair was the same in the end.

For his part, the acting captain of Voyager kept himself busy. He was determined not to find another excuse to wander in the direction of Sickbay for the second time that night. Sitting with an invalid once was fine. Most considered it nice. Maybe such an act was even noble to an extent, though Chakotay refused to see his need to soothe his concerns about Kathryn Janeway as noble. Sitting with the same invalid a second time certainly attracted attention. He thought a third time might really be pushing it.

Besides, just in the few days since that first simple deed of kindness and concern, the rumors of an interesting liaison between the captain and the first officer had increased. Though these ridiculous ideas didn't bother him overmuch, he wasn't so sure they wouldn't bother the captain. And if he probed his thoughts a little further below the surface, he might have to admit that he didn't see the ideas as so ridiculous, either. But that also didn't give him leave to fuel any of those rumors. He was here to help the captain, not add to her burdens.

With that in mind, he renewed his efforts on his chosen, couldn't-make-his-brain-shut-up-long-enough-to-go-to-sleep activity. With a grunt he lowered himself to the floor again, then pushed back up, his arms beginning to shake under the strain of so much exercise. In addition, he forced himself to count out loud.

"127, 128, 129...."

Kathryn eventually cried herself to sleep, and in time Chakotay dropped from exhaustion. The commander almost overslept on his first duty call as acting captain. And when Kes arrived in Sickbay to find the tear stains still evident on the sleeping captain's cheeks, she chose not to mention it.

Tuvok stared Janeway straight in the eye. "Captain, I strongly advise against it."

Kathryn Janeway quirked an eyebrow at her long time friend. "Somehow I knew you'd say something like that, Lieutenant," she answered dryly.

Tuvok's expression grew puzzled. "If you already suspected my response, then why did you ask my advice?"

She patted his arm. "For the reassurance, I think. It's good to hear you say the words aloud." She glanced at the other figures crowded around her assigned corner of Sickbay. The early evening meeting had gathered there for her convenience, and with the doctor's permission, of course. She could barely breath without the doctor noticing it, she thought in irritation. It was hard to give the pretense of perfect control when he was watching her like an avenging angel.

Her eyes moved to Tom Paris, then to Harry Kim, who appeared to be caught in some line of heavy thought. She paused for a moment to look at the commander. He looks tired. But before she could ruminate on that fact, his gaze met hers and she said, "What do you think, Commander?"

Chakotay's brow furrowed. He stood a good distance back from the crowd around the diagnostic bed, and the others had to turn to look at him. He took that time to collect his thoughts, and Kathryn watched his expression, feeling fairly sure that he had examined and discarded several options before he spoke. "I think Tuvok's point is important. Any contact will be a violation of direct Starfleet procedure." He paused, then slowly went on, "I also think we're a long way from a Federation court room."

Tuvok's eyebrow rose. "It surprises me to hear you say that, Commander. You do not strike me as an officer who follows the rules set down by Starfleet only when it is convenient."

Chakotay glanced at the lieutenant out of the corner of his eyes. "You didn't let me finish, Tuvok."

The other eyebrow arched to match the first. "I beg your pardon, Commander. Please proceed."

Janeway hid her smile.

"It's not as simple as deciding whether to follow the guidelines or not. We need to take into account what might happen in the next universe if the captain refuses to make contact."

B'Elanna Torres crossed her arms on her chest. "You mean are we willing to send another Voyager to certain death just for our principles."

"Principles are very persuasive reasons," Janeway pointed out. She was more familiar with this argument than she wished; she'd been going over her principles closely since that morning, trying to decide if they were worth the sacrifice by her and whoever waited in the thirty-first parallel universe.

Kim looked up. "I don't know about the rest of you, but if I was in the next universe, I sure wouldn't want to die because of a few rules."

"Yeah," Tom piped up, tugging at the collar of his uniform, "me neither."

Neelix raised a finger for attention. "And personally, I'm mighty glad the other captain decided to let us in on the secret. I prefer life over Vidiian fricassee any day."

Janeway nodded. "So we agree that we owe a large debt to our duplicates in the previous universe. But how can we be sure that this isn't the cause of the continuation of the shifts? Perhaps one sacrifice is needed to stop the cycle altogether."

They all looked at each other, each one hesitant to vocalize what was obviously on everybody's mind. Finally Kes was the one to quietly say, "Can we live with ourselves knowing what might happen?"

"And what if we're wrong?" Harry Kim continued Kes' line of thought. "What if that doesn't stop the shifting at all and Voyager is destroyed in each ongoing universe?"

The doctor glanced grimly at Captain Janeway. "What you're suggesting is murder." He struck his most imposing holographically indignant pose. "I, for one, won't countenance death in any universe. If you want my opinion, which I doubt, I highly recommend that you continue the process." He paused to glare emphatically at the captain. "And when you meet your fellow captain, I request that you emphasize regular visits to her doctor, especially after Kazon assassin attacks."

Janeway looked at him, making a large effort to restrain her irritation. "I'll do my best to mention it." She wasn't completely successful at hiding her sarcasm.

Tuvok straightened. "Captain, since you are entertaining the action of making contact, please let me suggest that you allow a security detail to be assigned to you at all times."

Mr Paris grunted softly and gave a lopsided smile. "Getting worried, Tuvok?" he teased.

"I only find it a wise move, considering our recent plague of uninvited guests," the lieutenant politely explained. His tone, however, wasn't so polite.

B'Elanna saw Tom's eyes narrow in sudden anger, and she jumped in to the conversation, eager to avoid an outburst from the pilot. "I agree. Just because our Captain Janeway is a peace loving individual doesn't mean the next one will be. Anything can happen. We might as well be prepared."

Janeway acknowledged the intelligence of Tuvok's proposal. "Agreed, though I think I'll feel like I'm under house arrest."

The doctor took one step closer to his patient. "You already are, Captain," he pleasantly reminded her.

"Yes, Doctor, I'm well aware of that."

Chakotay diplomatically cleared his throat. For whatever reasons, the level of tension for this particular meeting was much higher than most. He detected an aura of doom and depression emanating from Captain Janeway, despite her attempts at light humor. She wasn't barking out commands and ordering them to make suggestions as she usually did at staff meetings. Instead, she was rather quiet. That fact alone was making everybody edgy. The commander suspected that a great deal of suppressed emotions lay hidden just beneath the surface of each officer's control. The resulting sarcasm and biting comments were distracting at the very least.

It was time to take control of the proceedings. "All right," Chakotay began brusquely, ending the discussion in favor of making decisions. "The captain will make contact if the next shift does occur. In theory, the shift should focus again on the captain's position; we have no reason to think otherwise. She should be secured in a safe place, such as her quarters. According to the previous shift's schedule, we have a few hours, but I think it would be best if the captain moved to her quarters now rather than at the last minute."

The doctor interrupted. "Excuse me. I have not authorized any release from Sickbay...."

Chakotay was the epitome of restraint as he faced the doctor and explained, "The first thing Captain Janeway did when she found herself in another dimension was try to get out of the captain's quarters. Since we don't know what kind of individual we'll be dealing with, I prefer to keep her in a familiar setting that can be locked from the inside and away from the important areas of the ship. I doubt either party would feel comfortable being imprisoned inside a Sickbay stasis field."

"Ah," the doctor said in a flash of understanding. "I see your point."

The commander continued. "Mr. Tuvok, arrange for the security detachment."

"Aye, Commander."

"We still don't know what to expect when this shift happens. Whatever causes them might be capable of doing damage to the ship." Chakotay turned to Harry. "Mr. Kim, start running long range sensor sweeps every two minutes. Maybe we can catch whatever this power is before it reaches us. At least we might get a warning as to the time of the shift."

Kim cocked his head thoughtfully and suggested, "I can recalibrate the sensors to start a new sweep in an overlapping sequence, long and short range at the same time. That should locate anything within ten light years of Voyager and give us plenty of warning."

"Good idea. Get on it. Lieutenant Torres, keep your eyes on the engines - let me know if there's even a slight fluctuation in the dilithium matrix." Torres nodded once. "Mr. Paris." Commander Chakotay glanced at Tom. "How do you feel about doing extra duty at the helm tonight?"

Tom grinned disarmingly. "I'm as awake as a spring chicken. Just point me in the right direction and tell me when to press the start button."

Chakotay allowed himself a tight grin of his own at Tom's response. Leave it to Paris to come up with the closing quip of the meeting. "Maintain the present course, Tom. That's all."

"I think I can handle that," Tom drawled casually to cover his disappointment. Personally he'd been looking forward to an exciting run. It appeared the evening would just be more routine flying at warp five. Translate that to "boring," Tom said to himself.

The commander spoke one last time. "Doctor, I would like to suggest that Kes stay on duty with a medical kit, just in case."

Tuvok readily agreed to that proposal. "I too would feel more at ease knowing that assistance is available if it's necessary."

"Well, that would be a first," the doctor muttered under his breath, but he nodded and motioned to Kes to prepare the appropriate equipment.

The captain had not changed her position since Commander Chakotay took control of the meeting. Instead she sat and watched each officer receive orders, listened to the commanders pert, businesslike tone, practically saw the ideas flying fast from one person to the next, and felt left out of it all. This entire fuss was over her, and she was reduced to observer as others made the decisions. It was akin to Tom Paris' original role, she thought to herself. At the time she'd had little sympathy for the young man bearing the uniform but not the designation of a Starfleet officer. How things change, she thought, mocking herself. Tom Paris stood proudly at the foot of her bed, dressed in command red, and she appeared as a shadow in yet another pair of medical issue clothes. Fatigues, she'd heard Kes call them earlier, and as far as she was concerned, the name was alarmingly accurate. She was almost too tired to feel the sting of letting somebody else command her ship.

"Is there anything more to add?" the commander was saying then, arresting her attention. When nobody spoke, he nodded once. "That's all, then. Dismissed."

The doctor waylaid Chakotay before the commander could retreat from Sickbay. Kathryn saw the temporary captain glance in her direction, then appear to disagree with the doctor's words, but she looked away and didn't catch any more suspicious activity. If they were discussing her, she didn't want to know about it. She felt reduced enough as it was. She turned to watch the senior officers as a distraction to her emotions.

B'Elanna strode purposefully towards the door and turned left down the corridor, Neelix close behind. The Talaxian mumbled something about making extra coffee for the long night ahead as he passed through the door. Kes moved about Sickbay, gathering the necessary equipment for the medical kit. Chakotay finished his business with the doctor, and pulled Tuvok aside for a moment to talk briefly with him as well. Tom Paris and Ensign Kim departed together, followed soon after by Lieutenant Tuvok, all of them heading for their stations. Only the commander remained behind. She found it hard to meet his gaze.

He regarded her thoughtfully. "How are you feeling, Captain?" he asked.

It was a fairly innocuous question, one she felt safe responding to. "Fine," she answered shortly, employing a tone of false cheerfulness.

His expression didn't waver. "You were pretty subdued during the meeting. Feeling left out?" he asked.

She should have known that he would see through her pretenses. She heaved a sigh of admittance. "A little, maybe." She slid carefully to the floor, then brushed a strand of hair back.

"Would you like to talk about it?"

Kathryn considered what it might mean to divulge her recent turmoil to the commander. He was a notoriously good listener, and a wise man when it came to doling out advice. She suspected he would even understand and sympathize, and it would be a relief to air some of the doubts that had steadily collected during the day. But she couldn't quite bring herself to begin. It was too personal. "No," she said, and it sounded rude even to her ears. She looked away, but still discerned the hurt that flickered quickly across his otherwise imperturbable expression. "But thank you," she added to soften her response.

Chakotay's tone revealed nothing of his thoughts. "Very well. I'll walk with you to your quarters." He waved her towards the door.

Rather than face his gaze, she walked several steps ahead of him. But then she halted abruptly. Kathryn turned to face him. "Let me ask one thing," she said.

He paused with her. "Yes?"

"Have you been assigned as my bodyguard?" The corners of her lips lifted in a halfhearted attempt at a smile. "Or do you think it's still a little premature?"

Chakotay gave her a look of surprise, then realized what she was referring to. He couldn't resist a full-fledged grin that ended in a light chuckle. "It's definitely not premature! But no, I'm not your bodyguard. That job belongs to Mr. Tuvok."

"Ah," she said with a nod. She had been joking when she initially posed the question, wanting only to lighten the unhappiness she'd caused him, but now that she found some truth to her jest, it didn't seem so funny any more. She didn't want a bodyguard. She didn't want to be heading into a situation where she might need one. And she didn't want to be sick. With a sigh she turned slowly toward the door.

"The doctor thought one might be a good idea," the commander continued as he followed her into the corridor. "He wanted me to watch you every minute you were out of Sickbay."

"He doesn't trust me," she commented flatly.

"No, he doesn't," Chakotay agreed.

She held up a hand to halt any further observations from him. "No, you don't have to say it. I'm sure I deserve to be watched after my deplorable behavior of yesterday."

"Perhaps," he said noncommittally, and she watched him curiously from the corners of her eyes. "I refused his suggestion."

"Of course. You're place is on the Bridge, not coddling a misbehaving crewmember."

"Besides, Tuvok coddles much better than I do."

She choked a laugh, unable to stop herself, then had to pause in the corridor while her stomach muscles objected to the activity.

Chakotay took her arm in support until she had regained her composure. "Are you all right? Do you need to go back to Sickbay?"

She winced, more at the thought of returning to the doctor than from the pain. "No, it just twinges... every time I laugh, or breath, or do anything." She was grateful for his assistance, and for the empty corridor. But his obvious concern began to make her feel uncomfortable. She withdrew her arm and stepped back. "Thank you. I'm fine now."

He nodded pleasantly. If he guessed her reasons for her sudden step away from him, his expression gave no indication of it. They moved on. "I did agree to make sure you arrived at your quarters, however," he said with a mischievous light in his eyes. When she looked up at him, startled, he explained, "To make sure nothing sidetracked you, such as a sudden trip to the Bridge."

"I see," she said.

"And to give you this." He held out his hand.

A combadge rested comfortably in his outstretched palm. Kathryn carefully picked it up. Thoughtfully she said, "I didn't know how much I relied on this until I didn't have it." She hesitated momentarily, then touched the center of the device. Its familiar chirp was immensely satisfying. "Janeway to Bridge."

*Paris here.*

"Status, Mr. Paris."

There was no hesitation on the lieutenant's part. As if he was accustomed to responding to captains relieved of duty, he answered brusquely, *We're cruising at warp five point two, and so far there's no sign of any anomalies or other ships in the vicinity. Harry's already got the sensors doing loops. We'll let you know if anyone comes calling.*

Her brows lifted at his choice of words. At this point she even appreciated Tom's irreverent attitude. "Thank you, Mr. Paris. Janeway out." She attached the combadge to her shoulder and left it there. It felt good to be wearing it again. She was immediately much less conscious of being isolated from the activities on the ship.

Before they resumed, the commander touched his own communicator pin. "Chakotay to Paris. Increase speed to warp six."

*Aye, Commander.*

They glanced at each other briefly, and with a shake of her head Kathryn commented, "I don't know if this ship can handle two captains."

Chakotay said, "The ship can, but you can't." He moved again without giving her time to respond. "We'll keep a constant transporter lock on you, whether the shift happens or not. All you'll have to do is yell and Lieutenant Carey will beam you straight to Sickbay. Do you want us to monitor your quarters?"

She gave a definite shake of her head. She didn't want anybody to know if she lost control of her emotions as the other Captain Janeway had done. The Janeway pride, she thought with a touch of irony. "That won't be necessary," she stated aloud.

They arrived at the turbolift then, and Chakotay requested the correct deck. The ride was accomplished in companionable silence, each officer absorbed in his or her thoughts. Kathryn's mind was busy formulating strategies for talking to her double. She wanted to create something brief, soothing, and above all, original, but found herself repeating the words spoken to her only a few days earlier. A second slow stroll brought them to the captain's quarters at the forward section of the deck. Lieutenant Tuvok and two other security guards were already stationed outside the door, as was Kes with a medical kit.

"Captain," Tuvok reported immediately, "we have done a thorough scan of your quarters and they are secure. Once you enter I suggest you seal the door immediately. With luck, any future guests will not have the same voice pattern as you. We will be outside if you need assistance."

Kathryn forced herself not to react to his report. Thorough indeed, she thought in amusement. If she hadn't been so preoccupied by the possibility of the upcoming shift, she might have teased him just a little about being too retentive. But it was a relief to know that help was readily available, just in case. "Thank you, Tuvok. Commander, keep me informed." Both men nodded, and Chakotay strode swiftly away down the corridor while Tuvok stationed himself beside her door. The other two security officers took up their positions, one across the corridor facing her quarters, the other opposite Tuvok. All three men were armed with drawn phasers set for stun.

Now that the time had come, Kathryn found that she was slightly nervous. Though she had technically been through this type of incident before, she felt ill prepared as she entered her quarters. The door shut, and the silence of the room enveloped her. In spite of the upcoming scene, it was good to be home.

Except for a few minutes to change into her uniform the day before, she hadn't been in her quarters for three days. She glanced around, making sure everything was in order and as she had left it. When she was sure nothing was amiss, or more to the point, that she was alone, she ordered, "Computer, seal the door, authorization Captain Kathryn Janeway, alpha one. Confirm."

"Confirmed," replied the computer. "The door is sealed. Overrides in place."

She took a deep breath and looked around again, hands idly resting on her hips. With a jolt she remembered her injury and had to let her hands fall to her side. The sensation of being in over her head assailed her once more, and she pressed her thumb to the bridge of her nose to keep from being overwhelmed by helplessness. With a determined shake of her head, she regained control. She mentally prodded herself to move into her bedroom. From past experiences she knew that action generally increased her self control. She decided the least she could do was change out of the blue medical clothes and into something more respectable. The color of those fatigues was becoming more revolting by the minute.

However, it was not to be. Kathryn Janeway managed to get out of the blue tunic and loosely shrug on her light robe prior to a date with the sonic shower when she heard a noise in the outer room. It was the sound of a door swishing shut, barely discernible over the typical thrum of the ship, as if the noise came from far away. Then, much earlier than expected, she clearly heard an eerily familiar voice order, "Lights."

Do I really sound like that? Kathryn wondered vaguely. Uncertain suddenly of what to do, she moved towards the door, but only made it as far as the center of the bedroom. She found herself confronted with - herself.

The differences were immediately apparent. This captain's uniform was all black, with two broad red diagonal stripes cutting across the torso in contrast to the darker color. And her hair was down.

The two women stared wide eyed at each other for the span of three heartbeats. Kathryn struggled to collect her wits while she watched the double's surprise slowly melt into alarm. Abruptly she found her voice.

"I've been waiting for you," she said.

Thirty-five minutes later it was all over.

Ten minutes after that, Captain Janeway stood at a science station on the Bridge, surrounded by several members of her senior staff. She calmly scanned the display on the monitor, almost oblivious that she was dressed in nothing but her pink satin robe. The other officers present were trying equally as hard to ignore the same fact.

"I didn't see it until it was right on top of us," Ensign Kim was saying. He used a finger to trace a wide wave that intersected the image of Voyager exhibited on the screen. "The sensors didn't even pick it up. It was just suddenly there."

"Did it do any damage to the ship?" Janeway questioned next, her eyes still trained on the screen.

"No," Kim announced. "It's not nearly strong enough. We didn't even feel it when it hit. It's simply a mild shock wave that came came out of nowhere and disappeared."

"Not nowhere, Mr. Kim," Lieutenant Tuvok corrected. He had been standing at his station, sifting through additional data, but now moved to join the group. The Vulcan pushed several buttons on the console, and the picture changed subtly. The wave became narrower, and alien symbols labeled certain areas of the screen.

"What are these symbols?" Janeway indicated the unknown markings. "I don't recognize any of them."

"They're not even of Starfleet origin," Tom Paris noted, a puzzled curl to his lips.

"Correct, Mr. Paris. They are Caligran," Tuvok announced blandly.

Chakotay blurted, "Caligran? How is that possible?"

"Have you forgotten the stabilizer we originally purchased for the sensor relays?" prodded the Vulcan.

The commander stared blankly at Tuvok.

Tuvok raised an eyebrow at everybody's silence, but continued. "Since I could detect no sabotage, even after repeated diagnostics, I reinstalled that stabilizer on a peripheral relay as a secondary power source for the sensors."

Janeway asked, "What on earth made you think to do that?"

Tuvok hesitated, then said, "It was a hunch."

The surprise at that admission was universal across the Bridge. "I didn't think you were capable of hunches," Chakotay said.

"I am quite capable of them, Commander. I simply choose to ignore them as the superfluous logical baggage that they are."

"My mistake. Sorry, Tuvok."

"Accepted," Tuvok responded, unaware of the joke hidden in Chakotay's words.

Janeway halted the small talk. "It was a wise hunch, obviously. But you haven't explained these symbols."

"After careful study of the Caligran language, I can discern that they are indications of wave frequency and bands, Captain." He fiddled with more controls on the panel as he explained. "The Caligran sensors monitor space on a slightly different frequency than does the Federation's. When we alter our sensors to match the Caligran patterns, we see a much different picture."

Right on cue, the picture on the monitor changed. The strange shock wave was still in evidence, accompanied now by what looked like a tiny tear, no bigger than a humanoid hair, lying innocently on the screen.

Ensign Kim drew in a deep breath. "A subspace distortion."

"My thoughts exactly," Tuvok agreed.

Kim continued excitedly. "It's so small and just a little off the normal subspace frequencies... no, it's in between two frequencies! No wonder our sensors weren't able to detect it." He looked in awe at the picture, then his brow puckered in doubt. "But that still doesn't explain where the shock wave originated from."

"Wait a minute," Janeway said, leaning in closer. "Let's dissect that wave." She played around with the panel some more until a larger picture replaced Tuvok's. According to the captain's directions, the computer obligingly listed all the particles it could discern in the wave pattern. She straightened, too intrigued by what she was looking at to wince at the discomfort. "Take a look at that."

Chakotay's eyes narrowed. "Those look like...."

"....warp particles!" Mr. Paris finished. "That just doesn't make sense."

"But it's more than warp particles, Mr. Paris," Chakotay went on, also too interested to mind being interrupted. "Look at that trace pattern, there and there." He pointed.

Tom squinted where the commander had indicated. "Those are Federation signatures!" They all looked at each other in shock. "But from where?"

"Another ship!" Harry Kim instantly said. "A Federation ship lost in the Delta Quadrant, just like us."

They all paused, and most eyes moved automatically to the captain. She blinked rapidly and tried to catch her breath. "It's possible," she acknowledged slowly, reluctant to let herself become too excited.

Tom wasn't nearly so unwilling to release his excitement. "Maybe the Caretaker's tetrion beam snared another ship just before he died - another ship out looking for us in the Badlands."

Janeway shook her head. "It was too soon, Tom. We were scheduled for a three week mission, and the Caretaker died only a week after our departure from Deep Space Nine. Nobody would have been concerned enough to start looking for us at that time." She glanced down at the monitor once again. With a finger she traced the tiny fracture in space shown on the screen. "There must be another explanation for this."

Harry Kim absently scratched his head. "What we need to do is determine if the wave and the distortion are connected. Mr. Tuvok, can you replay the sensor readings using only the Caligran stabilizer?"

"We shall see." The Vulcan retreated to the Tactical station. A quiet moment went by as Tuvok's fingers moved flawlessly across his panel. His brow wrinkled once in concentration. Then he looked up. "I believe I have what you are looking for, Ensign. I am transferring the data to that console."

The scene on the monitor changed again. Now it moved slowly, played back in delayed motion. First the hairline fracture appeared, faint at first, brightening steadily, followed by the shock wave of Federation particles. The wave obviously originated from within the subspace distortion.

"Oh," Harry suddenly said.

Everybody turned to look at Kim. "Harry? What is it?" Janeway asked, recognizing that look of revelation on the young man's face.

Kim was silent for a moment longer, thinking furiously. "Captain," he began at last, "where did you say the first Voyager came from?"

"The first Voyager?" she repeated dumbly.

"You know, the one captain number twenty-nine told you about. The one where the crew mutinied and killed Captain Janeway."

"The one the Kazon blew up," Tom supplied helpfully, and Harry nodded.

"Let me think." Janeway drummed her forefinger on the console as she did her best to recall the information. "Shifts one to... fourteen were from the... Beta Quadrant?" It was difficult remembering minute details from a situation where other things had seemed far more important at the time.

"Then that might explain it," Harry said.

Chakotay leaned in sudden frustration against the line of consoles. "Care to share the story with the rest of us, Ensign Kim?"

"Oh, sorry. My mind starts moving and I forget who I'm talking to," Kim apologized absentmindedly. "First of all, the wave is composed of more than simple warp particles. There's ion particles, proton particles, traces of neutrinos and dilithium mixes - it's a mess. Just what you might expect to find after the destruction of a ship. A Federation ship, anyway."

"So now this ghost ship from back home has been destroyed?" the commander questioned, his frustration building though he made an effort to quell it. "And what's the connection to the Beta Quadrant?"

"It's not from back home," Kim explained. He looked at the others, surprised that they didn't understand. "Don't you see it? Look at this list of materials caught in the wave. Or more specifically, look at the amount of bio-neural particles. A much larger amount than you would expect to find comprising the crew of a ship sent on a search and rescue mission."

"Remains from bio-neural gel packs," Tuvok stated calmly.

"Yes!" Kim snapped his fingers, glad that somebody was keeping up with him. "With slightly polarized protons caused by continually passing near Beta Prime."

The light of understanding suddenly began to glow in a few pairs of eyes. Commander Chakotay turned to Janeway. "Were any other ships equipped with that type of circuitry besides Voyager?" he asked.

She shook her head. "This ship was the prototype on its first mission."

Both officers turned to Harry like synchronized robots. "The first Voyager," they said simultaneously.

"Uh," Tom said and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. "I guess I'm just slow, but what are you talking about?"

Tuvok answered. "A warp core breach, caused by a sufficiently powerful explosion, could possibly rupture the fabric of space, forming a small subspace distortion." He indicated the fracture on the monitor. "It is feasible that the breach could force a portion of the exploding matter through the fracture, across untold time and distance."

"Now that we know the cause, can we stop the shifts?" Janeway asked abruptly.

"I fear not, Captain," Tuvok informed. "We would need to travel to the time and sight of the original shift, and as the subspace fracture has already disappeared, I do not see how it would be possible."

"But it explains why we picked up this wave now, in our dimension," Kim ended.

"And it's why our captain left our ship during her shift rather than the other captain coming here," Chakotay added. "It wasn't her shift at all - it was theirs."

"And the reason we couldn't find the cause of the shift was because it hadn't happened yet," Harry finished triumphantly.

Paris threw his hands into the air. "I'm lost," he reported in resignation.

"There's a three day delay between the shift from one dimension to the next," Janeway said, working through her thoughts aloud for her benefit as well as Tom's. "Maybe we're looking at this from the wrong direction. Maybe the shifts don't move forward in time. Maybe they move backward." She looked excitedly around at her officers. "That has to be it. It would explain a great deal; I simply assumed it was a forward shift because of the three day time difference. And the destruction of another Federation ship as a cause for the shifts certainly explains the presence of neutrinos in my system when I returned to this Voyager -" She stopped. "Tuvok, see if everybody carries traces of neutrinos now that we've all encountered the distortion."

The security officer had anticipated the request. With a tricorder in hand, he soon had readings of each individual on the Bridge. "Confirmed, Captain. We are all displaying slight traces of neutrinos. The traces are already fading."

Chakotay spoke. "It's also possible the shift is as much lateral as moving in any one direction, forward or backward. Each dimension views time a bit differently."

Lieutenant Paris nodded then. "Maybe I should have paid more attention at school, but I think I got it. We're all heading for massive destruction at the hands of the Kazon. Right?"

Tuvok shook his head. "Not quite, Lieutenant. Time is heading that way, not us."

Janeway's brows arched in consternation. "My character doesn't exactly have a stellar destiny to look forward to, does she?"

"Wait!" Paris exclaimed, his hands to his head as if in sudden pain. Or, more likely, great confusion. "I don't understand! If the original Janeway was killed by her crew before the Kazon attacked and destroyed the ship, why is the entire shift centered around the captain, who wouldn't even have been alive during the formation of the first subspace distortion?"

They all stared at Paris, once again too stunned to speak.

The turbolift slid open at that moment, and B'Elanna Torres rushed onto the Bridge. "Hey!" she yelled at the group in full Klingon/Maquis vigor. "Captain!" She hurtled across the space still separating her from her crewmembers and pushed rudely through the crowd. She was panting too much to say more.

The commander caught hold of the engineer's arm before she had the chance to inadvertently do more damage to the captain's injury. "Slow down, Torres. This isn't a race."

B'Elanna leaned over, supporting herself with her hands on her knees. "You won't... believe this!" she gasped. She heaved in a deep breath, then exploded, "I just had a conversation with myself!"

"Nothing unusual about that," Tom quipped bluntly, happy that this was at least something he could understand.

"No, you idiot!" Torres stood up, still breathing hard. "Not with myself! With another me! Another B'Elanna Torres, wearing a uniform with two gold slashes on it, with different hair and an earring, who's the engineer on another Voyager!"

The following silence grew heavy in contrast to her loud outburst.

One word finally broke across the stunned group.

"Weird," whispered Harry Kim.

Chapter 4 || Contents || Chapter 6