NEW:TNG Prisons

[Whoa Nellie]

Title: Prisons
Author: Whoa Nellie
Contact: whoa_nellie40@hotmail.com
Series: TNG
Rating: PG-13
Codes: P/V, R/T, C/Chakotay, B/Ez
Summary: When Ezri Dax gives birth to the alien hybrid, Picard must find a way to deal with the new life. Meanwhile, Chakotay encounters some old acquaintances. This follows the events in the previous Whoa Nellie story Unnatural Evolution; probably helpful to have read that story first, but this story can stand on its own.

Author's notes: Special thanks to Data01 for her permission to use the unique application of the neural caliper from her story, Change of Venue. This occurs in the Reasons of the Heart timeline which launched an expedition toward the Delta Quadrant in a previous story, History's Legacy. Feel free to archive to any pertinent site.

As always: Paramount owns all the marbles, we just have a lot more fun playing with them.
Feedback is always appreciated - posted or e-mail.

Whoa Nellie's Romance Star Trek Fan Fiction Stories
http://whoanellie.fortunecity.com

*This is an edited down version of the story. If you are 18 years of age or older and wish to read the story complete with the adult bits, you can find it on the Whoa Nellie website.*

PRISONS

"Stone walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage." --Richard Lovelace.

As the group entered the lounge Chakotay veered off, heading for the bar to give the bartender the drink order for the group. He was out with Beverly along with Captain and Mrs. Picard as well as Captain and Counselor Riker. It was a rare occasion for all three captains and their spouses to enjoy an evening out together and they were topping off the dinner and concert with a nightcap in the Forward Lounge. The difficulty wasn't so much in any one of the couples getting over to C-deck, the challenge was all six individuals being able to get away from their duties on the various ships at the same time.

The three captains each commanded a vessel in the Delta Expedition, a traveling Federation colony on an open-ended mission to explore the Delta Quadrant. Chakotay headed up the Anthropological Sciences department on the Enterprise-F, part of the Enterprise command structure but he lived with Beverly onboard her vessel, the hospital ship Pasteur. Deanna was also assigned to the Enterprise but she lived with Will aboard his ship, the military escort Titan. Captain Picard, being the captain of the primary ship of the expedition, the Enterprise-F, had the easiest time enjoying the amenities on C-deck since it was the community deck of the Enterprise. It was, as its name suggested, an entire deck of the massive ship devoted exclusively to socializing, filled with every imaginable venue for R and R from eating establishments to holodecks and nightclubs. Everyone had quickly taken to calling the designated community deck 'C-deck' and the nickname stuck.

"When are we going to be enjoying the sight of Vash Picard treading the proverbial boards again?" Beverly was asking as Chakotay rejoined the group where they had claimed a small seating area near the large windows looking out into space. When they were all posted together on the Enterprise-E, Vash had frequently starred in shipboard productions; the Enterprise-F actually had a dedicated theater on C-deck for regular performances.

"It'll be a while," Vash said. "Yarnek is currently directing a production of Rigellian opera. Can I say I really miss Crusher Productions?"

Riker wasn't sure if he'd heard Vash right. "The Rigellians have opera? Are you sure you didn't mean Rigelian?"

Vash shook her head. "Regretfully, no; I really did mean Rigellian. I can't pronounce the name of the opera but think of it as the reptilian version of Cats."

Everyone broke up laughing at the image her description evoked. Yarnek was the Excalbian representative on the expedition, a member of the First Contact teams in the Anthropological Sciences department. He'd volunteered to take on the Enterprise theater company and had decided to stage productions from every race in the Federation. He was also adding material from Delta Quadrant races that they met to the theater company's repertoire.

"Oh, that I want to see," Deanna laughed.

"Agreed," Chakotay echoed. "Although Vash in a turtle costume dancing and singing would be quite the sight as well."

Vash accepted the drink that the server handed to her with a gracious smile before she addressed Chakotay. "Brave words from the man who likes to think of himself as the boss of me."

"Supervisor," he corrected her. "The Archaeology Department is part of the Anthropological Sciences Department which I am responsible for. I supervise the civilians in my department, I am 'the boss of' my Starfleet officers and crewmen."

"I stand corrected," Vash said, saluting him with her drink.

Picard arched an eyebrow at his wife. "Did you just admit that you were wrong?"

"Of course not, I simply acknowledged his perception of his position."

Shaking his head at her typically flippant answer, he turned his attention to Beverly and Will. "Not to spoil the evening with work, but I've finished reviewing Chakotay's report on the system we just entered. I forwarded copies to both of you earlier today, but it was near the end of Alpha shift which means they are most likely sitting on the desks in your ready rooms awaiting your attention. There's a large, M-class planet that we've received permission to enter orbit around. There's no discernible culture other than commerce so there won't be any diplomacy, but it will give Commander LaForge an opportunity to implement that project of his. We can remain in this system as long as necessary to complete the refit to the Pasteur."

"Shore leave?" Riker asked.

Picard nodded. "The locals transmitted their legal code and several legal scholars here on the expedition reviewed it thoroughly, a recent change in procedure recommended by Chakotay after that situation on Tauri. Their analysis was in the final report. Nothing that contradicts standard Federation law, no unusual laws or prohibitions and no capital punishment. Diseneye is a commerce and entertainment center in this region, the hospitality planet if you will. I've approved shore leave for the Enterprise personnel. I would recommend approving shore leave for your personnel as well, but those are your decisions with regard to your respective ships, Captains."

..........................................................

On the bridge of the Pasteur, the First Officer, Commander Geordi LaForge, sat down in the command chair and reached for the comm panel in the arm of the chair. The distinctive Texas drawl of the Pasteur's security chief, who had just vacated the center seat, stopped him.

"Do ya really wanna do that?" Lt. Commander Mark Randall asked.

LaForge looked up at the other officer standing in front of him. "She has to be told."

"She'll just wanna come back."

LaForge didn't really want to make the call, unfortunately he had no legitimate reason not to. "I know that, Mark, but she's the captain."

"If it were up to me, I'd rather she not be here right now."

LaForge exhaled sharply. "Do you want to be the one explaining to her later why we didn't inform her of this now?"

Randall shook his head, no. He cocked his head and arched an eyebrow at the first officer. "Maybe if someone went and told her in person, they could keep her where she is."

"I'm the First Officer, the most senior officer on this ship at the moment," Laforge said, looking meaningfully at Randall. "I'm not leaving the ship during an emergency situation."

The Texan waved his hands in front of his body. "I'm the Chief of Security, I'm not leavin' this ship durin' a security situation."

Both men glanced around the bridge at the rest of the crew on duty. Almost simultaneously they fixed their gazes on the ensign manning the helm.

...............................................................

Nervously approaching the three couples laughing and talking, Ensign Nell Chilton waited for her captain to acknowledge her. It was actually Captain Picard who first noted her standing there.

"Yes, Ensign?"

Beverly recognized her helmsman, immediately noticing that the young woman was wearing a phaser clipped to her waist. "Ensign Chilton, is there something I can do for you?"

"Excuse me, sirs," Chilton began. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I need to speak with you for a moment, Captain Crusher."

Beverly nodded to her, gesturing to an area a short distance away before she excused herself from the group. Following the ensign, she waited until they were far enough away from the others to speak privately. "What is it, Chilton?"

"I have a message from Commander LaForge," she said. "It's time."

Several months ago, her ship's counselor, Ezri Dax had been abducted by neural parasites known to local races as Theoenas. Before they were able to locate and rescue her, the parasites had taken genetic material from the Dax symbiont and combined it with their own to create a fetal symbiont-parasite hybrid. The fetus was in Ezri's uterus, but the Dax symbiont had felt a parental connection to the hybrid which resulted in Ezri refusing to allow them to terminate the alien pregnancy. They had been closely monitoring the development of the alien hybrid, planning to remove it from Lieutenant Dax and transfer it into an incubation tank as soon as they believed that it was medically viable unless it threatened Ezri or Dax before that. Apparently something had changed with the situation after Chakotay and she had beamed over to C-deck for the evening. She paused only long enough to hear the rest of the information that the ensign had been sent to deliver and then immediately headed for the door to the Lounge. She was stopped by Chilton grabbing her arm.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, I can't let you do that," Chilton told her.

Beverly pulled her arm out of the ensign's grasp. "Explain yourself."

Chilton straightened her shoulders, drawing herself up to full height which was still nearly two centimeters shorter than her captain. "Commander LaForge gave me strict orders, I am not to allow you to transport back to the Pasteur until the transfer is complete. He said to tell you that Commander Randall and he have determined that this situation is a special application of Starfleet Regulation 12 and it would be irresponsible of him as your executive officer to allow you to transport into a potentially volatile situation. Furthermore, since the protocol developed for this eventuality requires placing the Pasteur under lockdown during the transfer, all transporters have been taken offline. No one will be transporting to or from the Pasteur until they're done per the protocol you put in place for this procedure."

Pressing her lips together firmly, she resisted the urge to argue with the ensign since it wouldn't help anything. LaForge could have called her as soon as the decision to remove the hybrid was made, he deliberately sent Chilton so that the security protocol would be in place before she was told. Starfleet Regulation 12 involved captains undertaking away missions; it was a bit of a stretch for him to decide that transporting aboard her own ship constituted an away mission. The protocol, specifically locking down transporters and turbolifts however, had been set up to minimize risk during the extraction and transfer. Once the decision had been made and the protocol implemented, there was nothing to do but wait. "Maintain communication with the Pasteur, I want updates on the removal and tell Commander LaForge we'll discuss this later."

"Yes, ma'am."

Beverly walked back over to the group to let them know what was going on. "They're getting ready to remove the hybrid from Dax. Apparently the guardian was conducting his daily session with the Dax symbiont and trying to make contact with the fetus when he sensed its presence for the first time. There was no communication and there's been no movement or change in it, just the sense of a presence. The fetus is at 75% of development based on comparisons to Trill symbionts and the dead Theoena that Will's people brought back from the rescue. Under the circumstances, the decision was made by the team handling the case that it was time to transfer it to the incubation tank."

As the head of the Psychology Department for the expedition, Deanna had been closely involved with the situation from its onset. Regular counseling sessions had been a part of Ezri's recovery from her ordeal in addition to continuous evaluation of her mental and emotional states. Her own experience with Ian gave her some insight into Ezri's refusal to terminate the alien pregnancy, although this was much more difficult and traumatic for Ezri than it had been for her. "What about Lieutenant Dax?"

Beverly nodded. "Ezri has given her consent. She's being prepped for surgery."

Chakotay started to get up. "I guess that ends our evening out."

"Not quite yet," she grumbled. "Apparently my senior officers have staged a mutiny. Commander LaForge backed by Lt. Commander Randall have invoked Starfleet Regulation 12 and won't allow me to beam back to my own ship until the hybrid is secure in its tank."

Riker was torn between approval for the actions of her officers and amusement at Beverly's ire. Badly concealing a grin, he stood up and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "That's the right decision."

From his seat on the sofa, Picard echoed that sentiment. "As frustrating as it must be, I concur."

"I should be there," she argued with the two men.

"We set up a detailed protocol covering any possible scenario," Riker pointed out. "Everybody knows what they need to do. I would still feel better if the creature could have been removed on the same deck as the quarantine area that your people set up for it."

Beverly interrupted him. The fact that Will had used his military authority to station some of his specially-trained soldiers on her ship to guard the fetal parasite still rankled her. She thought Randall was more than capable of handling security for the parasite without Riker's interference. Picard had over-ruled her objections. "I already explained that the extraction needed to be performed in a fully-equipped surgical bay for Ezri's safety in case something went wrong. There are no surgical bays on Deck 13, only basic triage bays. The closest surgical bay is on Deck 11. Ezri's safety took precedence."

"I absolutely agree," Riker said soothingly. "My point is that the most dangerous time here will be during transit, after they've removed it from Lieutenant Dax and before they've secured it in the incubation tank."

Picard gave Vash's hand a squeeze and got up to add his support to Riker's argument. "If anything does go wrong, you need to be in a position to control the situation, Beverly. It wouldn't help to be a part of the situation. If it were my ship, I'd certainly want to be there and if you were already on your ship, that would be one thing. Commander LaForge has things under control over there, your transporting back right now would just be an unnecessary distraction. Let your people do their jobs."

"I know," she sighed. "That doesn't mean I have to like it."

Sneaking a glance at Deanna who confirmed for him that Beverly was reluctantly planning to stay where she was, Riker excused himself. "I need to check in with Madden and make sure they're monitoring the situation on the Pasteur."

.......................................................

 

[Whoa Nellie]

.......................................................

The turbolift doors slid open on Deck 11 to reveal strike team personnel from the Titan heavily armed and deployed at intervals along the corridor. Julian Bashir reached for his wife's hand before stepping off the lift and into the gauntlet before them. The military presence was a necessary precaution, he knew that. Knowing that didn't make it any easier to walk down the corridor toward the surgical bay with Ezri beside him and flanked on each side by their security escort. Going into any surgery created a certain amount of apprehension, there was always a chance for unforeseen complications. This entire parasite infestation had been a voyage into the unknown, fraught with uncertainties and constant concern for Ezri's welfare. Removing it was the final hurdle and all they could do was hope that nothing would go wrong medically. The soldiers, those here and those who would be in the surgical bay during the procedure, added a whole new dimension to the situation. From the way she was squeezing his hand, he could tell that she was feeling the same anxiety.

"This is as far as you can go, Doctor," a soldier stopped them outside the door to the surgical bay.

Being the Chief Medical Officer for the Pasteur, he had hand-picked the medical team taking care of Ezri. From the unjoined Trill doctor overseeing her case all the way down to the scrub nurses assisting on the extraction, he had ensured that she was in the very best hands. As much as he wanted to be right there holding her hand and observing the surgery, there was a reason that doctors didn't treat family and surgeons didn't operate on loved ones. He couldn't be objective and he would only be in the way. Nodding to the soldier, he had one request. "Could you give us a minute, please?"

The guards backed off, but only a few steps. Ezri forced a smile and with her free hand caressed his face. "It'll be fine, Julian. This is the day we've both been looking forward to. It's finally over."

He bit his tongue to stop himself from saying that this could have been over several months ago when the situation was first detected. They'd had that argument and bringing it up again now wouldn't help anything. "You're right, everything is going to be just fine; things can start getting back to normal. Hey, why don't I reserve a holosuite? In fact, why don't we make an entire day of it over on C-deck, whatever you want to do."

"That sounds nice, but the first thing I want is to be able to enjoy a long, leisurely, hot, bubble bath."

Bashir cradled the hand he was holding against his chest. "The first thing? I was kind of hoping that you'd have something else in mind for starters."

Because of the pregnancy, they hadn't been intimate in several months. They both wanted to, Julian just couldn't get past the idea of an alien parasite in her body. Needless to say, it had been frustrating. She gave him a wink. "I was kind of hoping that you'd scrub some hard to reach spots for me."

"It's a deal," he chuckled. He released her hand so he could cup her face in his palms. "I'll be right there with you when you wake up. I love you."

Ezri closed her eyes, savoring the gentle pressure of Julian's mouth as it came down on hers. Her lips parted to allow his tongue to slide between them, deepening the kiss. When they finally pulled apart, she reached out to caress his lips. "I love you, too, Julian."

Just then LaForge and Randall exited the turbolift, both of them wearing phasers clipped to their uniforms. They headed up the corridor toward the surgical bay. "Doc, Lieutenant," LaForge greeted them.

"Where're we at?" Randall asked the head of the strike team securing the corridor.

"Deck 13 is clear," he reported. "Your people are almost through evacuating Deck 12 and other than the doctor here, this deck is clear of non-essential personnel. They'll be locking down all but that one turbolift shortly."

LaForge looked at Bashir. "That's our cue, Doc. Why don't we head to your office to wait? Good luck, Lieutenant."

"Thank you, Commander," she smiled as she acknowledged both the encouragement and his intention to wait with Julian during her surgery.

......................................................

Will and Deanna had waited with the others until the Pasteur informed them that the surgery was a success and Ezri Dax was in stable condition. Unfortunately, as far as Riker was concerned, the hybrid had survived the transfer. Madden had confirmed with the strike team on the Pasteur that it was secure in the incubation tank. Transporter Room 10 here on the Enterprise was nearly half-filled with personnel waiting to beam back to the Titan when they entered and it was obvious that the expedition's grapevine was in full gear. Everyone was talking in hushed tones, the news that the alien hybrid was being removed from Dax had apparently re-ignited the debate over what should be done with it. Will personally agreed with those in favor of dissecting it.

'That would mean killing a sentient life who has done nothing,' Deanna pointed out through their link.

Being able to have discussions telepathically with his wife was sometimes fun, occasionally critical and, like now, frequently convenient. 'You didn't nearly end up as a host for one of them nor did you see what was left of Remmick when it was over. They've done more than enough.'

'This one particular life is not responsible for that,' she countered. 'It's only half-parasite.'

'Half a threat is still a threat,' Riker thought back. 'I would have expected more from someone with Dax's experience.'

Regular counseling sessions with Ezri over the past few months had given Deanna insight into Dax's decision. She had made a similar decision once, Ian had been on her mind a great deal lately. 'It's much easier to make big decisions when you're outside looking in. Those decisions aren't nearly as simple from the inside.'

'Ian nearly destroyed the Enterprise,' he reminded her.

Tears sparkled in her eyes at the memory. 'He didn't mean to and he left as soon as he realized what was happening.'

'I doubt this thing will be as accommodating.'

Deanna took a deep breath, calming herself. Around her, the Titan personnel knew that the two of them were having a silent conversation and they were all studiously averting their gazes. 'This *thing* is a baby as far as Dax is concerned. Ezri understands the need for precautions because of the experiences of the previous Dax hosts, but this is the child of the Dax symbiont and the Dax symbiont is as much a member of this expedition as anyone else.'

Will furrowed his brow in confusion at what he was picking up in the background of Deanna's mind. 'You *want* this?'

'No,' she assured him. 'Dax wants this baby.'

'Imzadi,' he arched an eyebrow at her.

She reached for his hand as they moved toward the transporter pad. 'I don't want an alien baby. I do want your baby. Lately I've been feeling like it's time for us to start a family. You don't need to answer right now, I know this situation with Dax and the Theoena threat has been preoccupying you. Take some time to think--'

He leaned down to interrupt her thoughts with a quick yet passionate kiss. Picking her up, he gently set her on the transporter pad and stepped up beside her. "Yes," he said in every way he could.

.......................................................

"What did you say this was?" LaForge eyed the bowl in front of him somewhat dubiously. He was having lunch with the chief engineer of the Pasteur. It was partially a working lunch to discuss the progress of their project; it was also a lunch date.

Across the table, Commander Chekova took a big spoonful of her own lunch. "Borscht, it's a traditional Russian dish. Try it."

LaForge took a small taste. "That's not bad, Irina, that's actually pretty good."

"Try not to sound so surprised, Geordi," she laughed. "My great-great-grandfather always said that everything of value in the universe originated in Russia."

"Well, if you're any indication then I'm inclined to agree with him." He grinned and winked at her as a sweet blush slowly spread up her face. They had started spending time together when they were working on a project to improve the Pasteur's hull integrity. He'd had an idea for using the dermal properties of space-dwelling species to reinforce the Pasteur's hull and she had helped him refine it into a practical application. Their working relationship had slowly been growing into something more ever since.

She dabbed her mouth with her napkin. "That would be sweet if I didn't know that the duty roster is about to come out and you're just buttering me up before I see how many times I'll have to pull bridge duty."

"I know Commander Kole kept your bridge duty rotations to a minimum and exclusively on Gamma shift. I have continued to honor that arrangement," he countered. Irina was a senior officer and qualified as a command officer, but the fact that she hated pulling bridge duty was no secret. Her engine room and the lab she'd set up in place of the traditional Chief Engineer's office were where she wanted to spend the majority of her time.

"That's all right, Geordi," she assured him. "The latest data stream included the most recent issues of Engineering Today and Federation Scientist so the bridge duty will give me a chance to read them."

He took a drink and wiped his mouth. "I'd like to take a look at those myself, if you don't mind."

As she ate her lunch, she gestured to a PADD on the table. "We ran into a problem with the lattice. It kept interfering with the intake on the Bussard collectors. Considering all of the problems the lattice was causing with the warp field calibrations anyway, I just told them to remove all of the lattice from the nacelles."

LaForge studied the PADD. Irina was a great engineer, she excelled at applied theoretical engineering. Taking theory and finding practical ways to make it work was her idea of fun. If she couldn't find a solution to the problem, it was doubtful he could. "So that leaves what, 18% of the hull still exposed?"

"12.7%," she corrected. "I managed to figure out a way to get the access hatches, cargo bay and shuttle bay doors all covered with the lattice without interfering in their functions. Both the main and auxiliary deflector dishes, the sensor palettes, the transporter emitters and the nacelles are the only exposed areas of the ship. I splurged a little with the Enterprise's offer of assistance and designed retractable shutters based on that retractable armor Voyager came back from the Delta Quadrant with for all of the windows and viewports on the ship. It'll add a couple of days to the application schedule, but whenever the ship goes to red alert, the shutters can be closed to protect them with the lattice as well."

LaForge whistled, nodding in approval. "Nice; by the way, did you ever figure out how to connect the bio-plasma to a power cell to drain and store the energy?" The Theoenas had attacked the expedition using a bio-plasmic gel that drained power from their shields as part of their attack strategy. Reg Barclay, who took over as Chief Engineer on the Enterprise when Geordi accepted his promotion, had found a defense to the substance but Geordi had seen the potential for the bio-plasma to improve the 'skin' that he was developing to improve the hull of the Pasteur. In theory and in simulations, the bio-plasma-infused lattice had absorbed energy from weapons fire in the same way that it had absorbed the energy of their shields when it had been used against them. Irina had suggested that, rather than discharging the energy back into space, the energy could be collected in power cells and stored for later use.

"Not yet, I still haven't solved the power transfer problem."

"Over our weekly first officer's breakfast," he said, "Marty suggested that we make about a dozen more of those targets that we used to test the effect of weapons fire on the lattice. If they were outfitted with power cells, then the Titan could use those targets for practice drills and the energy could be put to good use. If you want any help on that project, Data said to just contact Commander Hawking in the Physical Sciences Department on the Enterprise."

Irina acknowledged his suggestion. "You know, some of the academics on the Enterprise have decided to put together a publication devoted to Delta Quadrant research. The Delta Quadrant Quarterly will include papers from throughout the different disciplines on the expedition. It'll be distributed here and included in the data stream transmissions back to the Alpha Quadrant. If this lattice and the bio-plasmic gel works the way we think it will, I'd like to write it up and submit it for publication--if my collaborator on this project agrees, anyway. This was originally your idea."

"I think that sounds like we'll be spending a lot of time together."

......................................................................

Beverly entered the Central Medical bay, scanning the room until she saw who she was looking for. This was the nexus of the hospital ship's facilities. There were biological and some botanical research labs on several decks of the ship in addition to the usual ship operations departments, offices and crew quarters. At its core, though, the Pasteur was the medical facility for the entire expedition with two-thirds of the ship devoted to facilities for extended patient care, treatment, rehabilitation, surgery and medical research. There were triage bays on every deck, but the Central Medical bay was where many of the doctor's offices were located. Both of the other ships had basic Sickbays with their own Chief Medical Officers who in turn reported to Julian. In addition to being the Pasteur's Chief Medical Officer, he also served as the Chief of Medicine for the Delta Expedition. At the moment, however, Beverly was heading for one of the treatment beds lining the far wall of the room. "Lieutenant Dax."

Ezri was reclining back on the bio-bed, engrossed in a novel that Vash had loaned her during a recent visit when Beverly's voice startled her. "Captain."

"Don't sit up," Beverly put her hand on the young woman's shoulder to keep her down and noticed the story she was reading. "You know there's a holo-program for that, don't you? Vash got Data to write it not long after Deanna and I picked that up for her."

Ezri gave an impish grin. "I'll definitely have to remember that."

"I just wanted to stop by and see how you were doing."

Scooting herself up a little on the bed, her hand reflexively covered her stomach. "I'm fine, really. No ill effects, at least not physically. I remember what Lela felt like after delivering a four and half kilogram baby. This is nothing. Julian's just being a mother hen wanting to keep me here for a couple of days."

Beverly winced in sympathy, gesturing questioningly toward the foot of the bed. When Dax nodded consent, she sat down. "I'm sure he's just being cautious. I am a little surprised that he hasn't moved you to a private care room yet."

"That was my doing. After being confined to my quarters for so long, I just really wanted to be out in the open here, surrounded by people. I understand why I had to be isolated," she rushed to assure Beverly.

Out of habit, Beverly reached back and picked up the PADD attached to the foot of the bed containing Dax's medical records. She scanned through it. "Everything looks good, has Deanna been by yet?"

"No, she called to see if I was up to a counseling session," Ezri answered the question that the captain had indirectly asked. "She's bringing lunch over from the Bajoran restaurant in a little while, Julian said we could use his office for some privacy. He's been hovering and driving everyone crazy all morning, but right now he's off dealing with a medical emergency. The Enterprise transported two dozen people over with severe skin burns after someone at the spa accidentally mixed up Teldarian dermal cream with Tellurian moisturizer."

There was a time when her instinct would have been to head for the medical emergency. Becoming a captain had been a much harder process than just pinning a rank insignia on her uniform. It had taken some time to stop thinking like a Chief Medical Officer pulling the occasional bridge duty and start being a captain. Now her first thought was to look for Julian's report on the matter. "Well, based on these readings, Lieutenant, I am expecting to see you in person at the next senior staff meeting. No more excuses."

Ezri just chuckled. "Aye, aye, Captain."

"I'm glad everything's all right," Beverly said as she got up.

"Captain," Ezri stopped her. "Can I ask . . . I just . . . how's the hybrid doing?"

Studying the young woman's face for any indication of why she was asking, Beverly made a mental note to mention it to Deanna. "Its condition is stable. They're still evaluating it."

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[Whoa Nellie]

..........................................................

Diseneye was a planet devoted to recreation and relaxation. It had a variety of museums, entertainment facilities with games, several amusement parks, shopping and dining. Their 'living museum' was essentially a zoo and Chakotay, along with a group of expedition members, was spending the day there. Several members of the group were exobiologists who were animatedly scanning and recording each exhibit, explaining to the other members of the group some of the more interesting aspects of the species' physiology. The specimens, according to one of the museum's staff, were all exotic animals that had been collected from different planets and systems throughout the quadrant. Travelers from distant systems brought specimens that they encountered on their journeys to sell to the museum and, as a result, it boasted the largest collection of unusual fauna anywhere. Each display was a re-creation of the animal's natural habitat, a diorama of the world that each exhibit came from originally. This alien zoo was providing them with enormous quantities of information on not just the animal life in the quadrant, but also the different worlds they were traveling toward. This part of the Delta Quadrant was not an area that Voyager had traveled through. While there were some known races that they had already encountered such as the Vaadwaur, this was as much a journey of discovery for Chakotay as it was everyone else.

"Take a look at this DNA structure," one of the exobiologists exclaimed after scanning one of the exhibits. "The genetic coding is unbelievable; I wouldn't have thought this level of density possible."

Dr. Pulaski, along for a day of relaxation away from her duties as the Enterprise's Chief Medical Officer, was standing beside him and peered over his shoulder at the tricorder display. "Is that a triple helix?"

"Incredible," another of the exobiologists said. "Large, tripedal with what must be extreme physical power given these readings for the ratio of musculature to skeletal structure. The environment it's in doesn't really fit with the evolutionary development that would have created these characteristics, though. I wonder how accurate this display is."

Chakotay overheard their comments and wandered over to check out the exhibit that had caused such a stir. The environment within the display was a depiction of a barren, rocky wasteland and standing in the middle of it staring back at him was a Species 8472. He looked around, finding a museum guide nearby and motioning him over to where the group stood. "What is this doing here?"

"That is a triform," the guide explained.

"That is a sentient being, not an animal," Chakotay said.

The guide disagreed. "I'm sorry, sir, but you're mistaken. It is a beautiful and fascinating creature, but it lacks the ability to communicate. There is no evidence of any ability to reason much less any indication of self-awareness."

The other members of the expedition group gathered closer. Dr. Pulaski stepped up beside Chakotay and looked at him. "You're familiar with this race, Chakotay?"

"Somewhat," Chakotay said. "Voyager encountered them a couple of times. I know enough about them to know that they're a highly intelligent, very advanced, sentient species. That individual does not belong in a zoo or this 'living museum'."

The guide pulled out a tablet and began taking notes. "Do you know where they live or what they're called?"

"They're native to a region called fluidic space," Chakotay answered. "I don't know what they call themselves, we only knew them as Species 8472."

"Fluidic space? 8472?" the guide was obviously confused by the unfamiliar terms.

Chakotay looked around at the members of the group, unfortunately none of them had telepathic abilities. In their natural form, they had used telepathy to communicate with Kes on Voyager. "The point is, I know that these beings are sentient and intelligent. This one does not belong here, it must have gotten left behind when they returned to their realm somehow. I have the information to send it home if you'll release it to me."

"It was tested extensively before adding it to our collection as all of our specimens are," the guide countered. "It made no effort to communicate; it lacks any of the necessary indicators to be classified as a higher life form."

"I could bring a telepath down from the Enterprise," Chakotay suggested. "The 8472 can communicate telepathically."

The guide regarded Chakotay suspiciously. "Telepathically?"

"Non-verbally," Chakotay tried to explain. "They transmit their thoughts to another whose brain is capable of receiving those thoughts. It's a special means of exchanging information directly between minds without speaking out loud."

The guide put his tablet away and gave a brief, vigorous shake of his head. "That sounds interesting, but I just work here. You'll need to take this up with the curator. His office is near the entrance of the museum."

................................................................

Beverly was chatting quietly with Picard in the conference room on the Pasteur. They were gathering key personnel involved in the hybrid situation to discuss the status and next steps. At the other end of the table, Riker was talking with Randall. She assumed they were reviewing security arrangements for the quarantine area. LaForge entered the room at a brisk pace, nodding officiously to her and Picard as he took a seat at the table. The door slid open and Dr. Cindy Randall walked in.

"Captain, I hope I haven't kept you waiting," Cindy said. Her voice was soft, the Texas twang not as apparent in her speech as it was in her husband's. She had an athletic build, average height but her outgoing personality, which contrasted sharply with Mark's more laid-back demeanor, gave her a strong presence. Her long, curly blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She wasn't Starfleet so she was dressed in a simple, utilitarian jumpsuit.

"Not at all, Dr. Randall," Beverly assured her. "We're still waiting for a couple more people. Just take a seat anywhere."

Mark Randall motioned for his wife to take the seat next to him at the table just as Deanna and Bashir arrived.

"All right," Beverly sat up straighter and addressed the room. "Everyone's here, so let's get started. Dr. Bashir, what's Ezri's condition?"

Bashir slid into his seat, his body language more relaxed than it had been in months. "She's fine. We're monitoring her closely to make sure the hybrid didn't cause any changes to her biochemistry or the link between her and Dax, but I expect her to be discharged tomorrow fit to return to full duty--medically speaking anyway."

"Psychologically fit as well," Deanna spoke up. "Our counseling sessions throughout this situation have gone well. We'll continue to meet for a while, but I'm confident that she's ready to resume her normal duties."

"Very good," Beverly acknowledged. "I've invited Dr. Cindy Randall to join us. She's a molecular biologist and herpetologist on the team studying the hybrid. Dr. Randall, what can you tell us at this point?"

Cindy pulled up some information on the PADD in front of her and transferred it to the viewscreen on the wall. "As you can see from these diagrams, the physiology of the hybrid is most comparable to the dead Theoena specimen. There are differences here and here that are more analogous to Trill symbiont physiology. We've managed to synthesize a protein enzyme mixture that provides essential nutrition for it; it is taking nourishment. There's been a bit more development, it's now at approximately 80% of maturity. There has also been movement noted in the tank so it appears to be exploring its new home."

"Any communication yet?" Picard wanted to know.

"No, sir. The Trill guardian and several other telepaths can sense a presence, but nobody has been able to read its thoughts."

Riker leaned forward, looking past Mark to address Cindy. "What kind of presence have they felt?"

"I'm sorry?" Cindy was confused by the question.

"Nothin' dark," Mark Randall provided the information that Riker was looking for. "Nobody's been disturbed by what they get from the critter, they just feel it there."

Picard studied the recording of the hybrid moving around inside the incubation tank. "Can they pick up anything with regard to intelligence?"

"There's been no discernible indication of intelligence," Cindy offered. "There has been demonstrated awareness of its surroundings. We're still working on finding an effective system of communicating with it. Since the telepaths struck out, we're looking at technological means of communication. We're starting with all of the theories that don't require any direct physical proximity or contact first. Hopefully one of those will work and we'll be able to connect with the little guy without risking exposure on interaction of any kind."

Mark Randall nodded vigorously. "Amen to that. The science people have the tank sealed except for a small area where they can monitor the fluid inside and feed the critter. They're under strict orders not to open the tank without informin' security first."

Cindy gave her husband a smile and laid her hand on his before she continued with her report. "There are speakers and emitters inside the tank. We're going to try a variety of tones on varying wavelengths to see if there's any reaction. Trill symbionts communicate through electrical pulses in the pools where they live, that'll be our next attempt. I have noted fluctuations in neuron activity that correlate to our efforts to communicate. I believe that it's aware of us, we just need to figure out how to make that connection."

"What if the only way it can communicate is through a host?" Riker asked the question everyone was thinking.

Beverly shook her head. "We're just starting to attempt communication with it; it's not even fully mature yet. Without knowing more about this thing and its Theoena heritage, I won't even consider allowing a human host."

"Perhaps we could find a Delta Quadrant parrot for it," Picard suggested wryly. "The Anthropology Department found evidence that the Theoenas have merged with animals in the past."

"If we do provide an animal host," Deanna pointed out. "The telepaths may be able to make contact with it once it's merged. It may simply require a brain through which to process information."

Cindy countered their suggestion. "We're not even sure it can merge."

"Please explain, Dr. Randall," Picard requested.

"The altered genetics have affected its physiology," she said. "It's not completely Theoena or Trill."

Julian saw what she was saying. "She's right. Trill symbionts reside in the abdominal cavity, joined Trill have two cerebral nuclei each with its own brain wave pattern. The limited information we have on Theoenas show that they join with a host directly in the brain. They burrow into the brainstem and replace the host brain's pons, which is the structure in most humanoid brainstems that link the different parts of the brain. It's more or less a relay station from the medulla to the higher cortical structures in the brain. Obviously we don't know much about brain wave patterns in joined Theoenas, so we're guessing there. Given the alterations in its genetics, there's no way to know how it would affect a joining."

..........................................................

"I finally got them to understand what telepathic communication entailed and you would have thought I was suggesting a seance to speak with the dead," Chakotay complained. He had spent nearly two full days running all over Diseneye talking to one official after another about the 8472 in their 'living museum'. They refused to consider the possibility that it was self-aware. He didn't understand why the 8472 had accepted a life in captivity rather than releasing the cellular toxin into its bloodstream to kill itself. Regardless, he had to do something to free it.

Beverly was sitting on his desk listening sympathetically. She'd beamed over to have dinner with him on C-deck and found him in his office muttering to himself. He was standing in front of a workstation on the far wall of his office pulling up files and downloading them onto a PADD he was holding in his hand. As he was telling her about his frustrating turn on Diseneye's bureaucratic wheel, he would occasionally turn and wave the PADD in his hand to punctuate a particular point. "Did scans of the creature reveal significant brain activity?"

"Being," he snapped and just as quickly sighed. "I'm sorry, Fireball. I've just spent a little too much time lately arguing with people over that very concept. They don't measure sentience by the level of brain activity. Their definition of what they call a higher life form revolves around modesty, language, threat perception and the use of tools. Species 8472 in their natural form don't wear coverings of any kind, which the locals take to mean that it has no concept of personal space or privacy. It didn't attempt to communicate through vocal or written language and it was completely uncooperative in the tests involving the utilization of tools. By every standard they have, they consider it an animal."

Beverly stood up and moved to stand behind him. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she rested her chin on his shoulder. "Can't you just tell the 8472 to cooperate? That sounds like the real problem. If it's that intelligent, it should have no problem proving it."

"I suggested that they re-test it. I offered to go into its enclosure myself to prove that it wouldn't attack me if I identified myself as a friend. Once it passed that test I could explain the test for the use of tools and they could re-administer that assessment," he said. "The ability to communicate is a fundamental component of their differentiation between higher and lower life forms. Without any effort to communicate, they won't re-consider their designation of it."

She let her hands wander over the broad expanse of his chest, just enjoying the feel of him in her arms. The hybrid testing and research was ongoing, everything else was at a nice lull for the Delta Expedition. Alone with her husband in his private office; dinner could wait. "I can't say I like that first part. It has been locked up for who knows how long. It's not likely to be too kindly disposed toward any human even if you are saying nice things."

"I have to do something, Fireball. I can't leave this planet knowing that a sentient, intelligent life is in prison for the crime of not being willing or able to communicate. I convinced one of the 8472s we met that humans weren't their enemy. They'd taken me prisoner in their terrasphere re-creation, for a minute it looked like we were going to start open war on each other. One of them, Valerie Archer--I've told you about her--she listened to me, she trusted me and vouched for me with the others. They gave us a chance and we managed to establish diplomatic relations, at least with some of them. Voyager made a mess of our first contact with them and even though we got the chance for a do-over, I still feel like I owe it to them to do something here."

Her fingers nimbly opened his trousers and reached inside. "You've already done everything you could and spoken to everyone on the planet who could have any influence at all. Have you talked to Jean-Luc about this?"

His hips jerked when he felt her hand. Focusing on their conversation, he held up the PADD in his hands. "That's what this is for. I sent him a message a little while ago requesting some time."

Licking along the side of his neck, she began kissing and nibbling the tender skin right under his ear. "When?"

His body responded swiftly and forcefully to her attentions. "Um . . . afternoon . . . tomorrow afternoon after senior staff. Fireball?"

"Mmm hmm?" she muttered. Her teeth latched on to his earlobe and tugged. Her own body was beginning the familiar rise in desire. Blood began rushing to her hips, her heart beating faster and faster with anticipation. Even after all the time they'd been together, just being in the same room with him affected her whether they were in a crowd or, like now, alone. She couldn't imagine her life without him.

"What are you doing?" He braced his hands on the counter in front of the workstation.

With her free hand, she released his trousers and shoved them down his legs. "Getting your mind off your troubles, of course. Is it working?"

"Well, you're certainly distracting me," he admitted, groaning. She was right, there was nothing more he could do tonight except stew over the situation and what she obviously had in mind was a much more delightful way to spend the evening. He ripped open his uniform jacket, tossing it to the floor followed seconds later by his shirt.

....................................................................

 

[Whoa Nellie]

Beverly checked the status indicator on the control panel outside of Holodeck Two. While the majority of entertainment venues were on the Enterprise, there were a standard compliment of holodecks on both the Titan and here on the Pasteur. The program running was a biological sciences simulation. The research team working with the hybrid was pursuing a possible avenue of communication and she was stopping by to check on their progress. There were no security restrictions on the simulation in progress, so she pressed the door panel for entry. Inside was a laboratory with a large tank in the center of the room. Standing inside the tank with liquid up to his chest and clad only in a pair of swimming trunks was Jax Odan.

"Dr. Beverly," Odan was the first to notice her.

Once the initial awkwardness of her history with one of Odan's previous hosts had been addressed, their subsequent encounters had begun to take on a tone of comfortable familiarity and even friendship. In spite of Jax's efforts, he still invariably called her 'Dr. Beverly' and she had assured him several times that she didn't mind. It didn't mean anything to Jax and to her it was just a reminder of a pleasant time in her past. Jax Odan had been an invaluable resource throughout this whole experience with the Theoenas. "Dr. Odan," she returned his greeting with a warm smile.

"Captain Crusher," one of the researchers working at a computer station near the tank acknowledged her as she approached.

"Doctor," Beverly replied. "I'm just curious, actually I was looking for an excuse to get away from my desk. Captains, unlike doctors, seem to spend an inordinate amount of time in chairs. I just thought I'd stretch my legs and check in on your progress."

Another researcher joined them with a PADD in her hand. "Of course, Captain. Here are our notes if you'd like to see for yourself."

Beverly gestured toward the tank. "What exactly are you doing here?"

"The tones and pulses we attempted to use in communication with the hybrid got no response," the first researcher explained. "It was hypothesized that a possible reason was a lack of meaning in the transmitted tones. This tank is filled with the same fluid as in the incubation tank and the Odan symbiont is sending specific messages through those electrical pulses which we are attempting to record. If we can, we'll take these messages and transmit them in the incubation tank in hopes of getting a response."

"I thought Lieutenant Dax had been discharged from medical," Beverly noted. "Is there a reason she wasn't able to assist with this?"

The two researchers exchanged uncomfortable glances, looking around at the other three individuals in the room who were all determinedly focused on their computer monitors. The second researcher spoke up. "It was felt that under the circumstances it was important to be certain of the content in the messages being transmitted."

"For the sake of accuracy," the first researcher added.

What they were trying very hard to not say, Beverly realized, was that they didn't trust Dax to say what they wanted to be said. "I see."

"It's just that the Odan symbiont has no connection to the subject," the second researcher tried to explain. "We have no reason to question Lieutenant Dax's integrity, but without being able to interpret the message for ourselves, we thought it best to avoid any . . . Odan is a neutral party, preferable in the scientific method for this research."

"I understand," Beverly said. She looked over to where Odan was standing in the center of the tank. "I appreciate your willingness to help with this."

He waded through the chest-deep fluid to the side of the tank where the group was standing. "No trouble at all, I'm happy to help. Did it work?"

"I think so," the first researcher said. Looking to Beverly, he continued. "With your permission, Captain, we'd like to take these recordings and try to talk to the hybrid."

The second researcher turned to Odan. "We'll record any response we get. Would you be willing to interpret it for us?"

Odan hoisted himself out of the tank and picked up a towel to begin drying himself off. "Of course; why don't I wait here to see if there's a response?"

"Would you like to observe, Captain?" the first researcher asked.

She started to say yes but Odan caught her attention. Getting the impression that he wanted to talk privately with her, she declined. "No, that's all right."

Jax walked over to retrieve a robe from one of the chairs and slipped it on. Once they were alone, he pointed questioningly toward the chairs. "I'm glad you're here. I have a suggestion that I'd like to discuss with you."

Beverly sat down, waiting for him to take a seat beside her. "Okay."

"This," he waved his hand in the direction of the tank, "is an intriguing idea."

"But?"

Odan sighed. "If the recordings do not get a response, it might be worth a try for me to get in the tank with the hybrid."

"Absolutely not," she said firmly.

Odan placed his hand on her knee, leaning in closer. "Please, Dr. Beverly, hear me out. Science can study and learn everything there is to know about the biology of this life form, but without communication there will never be true understanding."

Even if they could put some sort of barrier to keep the hybrid and Odan separated, both of them would have to be in the same liquid in order for direct communication to occur. Without knowing the full extent of the hybrid's capabilities, "It would be too risky."

"I know the risks," Odan said. "Believe me I know the risks and it's not that I want to do this. I'm not particularly comfortable with the idea of receiving any messages from it even indirectly. Whether anyone else can understand it or not, what Ezri has given Dax is an incredible gift but she's been through enough. If there's anything that my symbiont or I can do that would make this any easier on her, I need to do at least that much."

"Getting into the same tank as the hybrid to play translator is not a small thing."

Odan nodded. "You're quite right and I'm not all that disappointed that you're rejecting the idea. I am, however, asking you to keep that option open. As frustrating as it is for us to not be able to communicate with this being, I can't imagine how frightening and frustrating this inability to communicate must be for it. I have lifetimes of experience in establishing dialogue with different races and civilizations. If my unique physiology or any of that experience can provide a bridge between this being and us, I'd like to help."

...............................................................................

Chakotay remained seated at the conference table on the Enterprise at the conclusion of the regular senior staff meeting. He had a full report prepared for Picard on every action he'd taken, every official he'd met with, the relevant parts of Diseneye's legal code and their scientific standards for life form classifications. He'd also compiled all of the information on Species 8472 from their own database. The options for solving this problem were dwindling fast.

"Commander Chakotay," Picard said. "Would you like to take this into my ready room, or can we discuss what's on your mind here?"

"Here's fine, Captain," Chakotay assured him.

Data stood up to leave. "If you will excuse me--"

Picard motioned for him to sit back down. "Please stay, Number One, unless Commander Chakotay has any objection."

"No, Commander Data is already aware of this matter," Chakotay replied. "A few days ago I encountered a member of Species 8472 in a zoo, or what they call a 'living museum', down on the planet."

"Yes," Picard nodded his awareness. "Commander Data has been keeping me apprised of your efforts. I take it you've been unsuccessful in convincing them of its intelligence."

Chakotay slid the PADD down the table to Picard, his face glum. "Yes, sir. I've spoken to every official I can get any time with. I'm pretty sure the ones I haven't been able to get in to see are actively avoiding me."

"That doesn't sound diplomatic, Commander," Picard noted wryly.

Chakotay tried to make both of them understand his frustration. Everyone else was willing to take it at face value that this 'fascinating creature' was nothing more than a tripedal animal specimen. He knew different from very personal experience. Beyond the physiological and cultural differences between them, they experienced the same basic emotions as humans. They had lives, differences of opinion between one another, they could appreciate beauty and philosophy. They were among the most fascinating races he'd encountered in the Delta Quadrant even considering how little they had learned about them. "This 8472 has done nothing, everyone admitted that it had been sold to them as an animal. It committed no crime and their own legal code forbids the practice of slavery; higher life forms cannot be bought or sold as property. They're breaking their own law by keeping it in their museum."

"If their legal system has a process by which to register appeals," Data suggested. "Perhaps this could be resolved utilizing their own laws."

Chakotay shook his head. "They define it as a lower life form, which means it has no rights under their legal code. I even spoke with one of their judiciaries--their version of a lawyer--about registering an appeal on its behalf."

"I take it that wasn't possible," Picard said.

"I don't have legal standing to make an appeal unless I can prove ownership of the life form in question," Chakotay explained. "If they accept that it's intelligent, it would have rights and they would be bound by law to release it. As long as they define it as a lower life form, they can keep it in a cage for the rest of its natural life for no reason at all."

Data offered an observation. "Starfleet Order 2 prohibits the taking of intelligent life. Having knowledge that an intelligent life form is being intentionally held captive without justification would suggest an obligation to render aid."

"Prime Directive," Picard cautioned.

"This is an advanced culture," Chakotay argued. "We wouldn't be interfering in their evolution."

Picard held his hand out. "We would be interfering in their affairs, Commander. This is a matter between two alien races, neither of whom are members of the Federation nor have they asked for our assistance."

Chakotay slammed his hands against the table in frustration. Before he could voice his objection, an idea occurred to him. "What if the 8472 on the planet asked for our help?"

"If it could request our assistance," Data asked. "Would that not automatically alter its designation as a lower life form among the Diseneye?"

Chakotay stood up, excited by the first spark of hope he'd had since his initial discussion with the curator of the alien zoo. "It can't ask them, but if I take Lar down to the planet it can make a telepathic request for asylum from us. Those aliens down on Diseneye may not believe in telepathy, but the Federation recognizes telepathic communication and accepts it as valid. A telepathic request for help would be the same as a verbal one to us."

"In the event of a request for asylum," Data said. "Starfleet regulations would require a hearing to be convened on the matter."

Picard sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Yes, Number One, I am aware of the regulations regarding asylum; however, the individual in question is currently in the custody of the Diseneye officials. If it were here seeking asylum, there could be no question on the matter. I do not have the authority to force the Diseneye to turn the individual over, which would make any decision with regard to the granting of asylum a moot point. I sympathize with this being's dilemma and with your frustration, Commander. Ultimately, this is a matter between the Diseneye and Species 8472. This is not our problem. There is nothing more we can do."

Already formulating the explanation he was going to have Lar convey to the 8472, Chakotay couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Captain Picard--"

"No, Commander Chakotay," Picard repeated. "I will speak with some of the officials on the planet, if you believe it will help; although, I can't imagine getting much further than you did. If they refuse to reconsider their position, we will have to leave it at that."

Chakotay opened his mouth to say something, his opposition and frustration obvious. Abruptly he broke off and grabbed the PADD from the table. "Yes, sir. Permission to leave, sir?"

..........................................................................

Dax stepped off the turbolift on Deck 13. The corridor in the immediate area was deserted, no one was in sight. Her heart was pounding so hard it drowned out every other sound around her. She jumped, startled by the lift doors closing behind her. Her doctor had discharged her a little while ago and she'd gone back to her quarters with every intention of taking a long, relaxing bubble bath. After months of feeling like a stranger in her own body, being rid of the thing that had been growing inside her was an enormous relief. Instead, she'd wandered aimlessly around the quarters for nearly an hour. Somehow she found herself on the turbolift calling for Deck 13.

The anxiety was making her nauseous and she swallowed hard, willing herself to calm down. Turning right, she maneuvered through the corridors, past a couple of research labs until she reached a corridor being guarded by two Titan soldiers. She paused briefly then nodded and tried to walk past them into the quarantine area. Immediately they blocked her path.

"Sorry, ma'am, restricted area," one of them said.

"I'm Lieutenant Ezri Dax."

The soldier nodded curtly. "Yes, Lieutenant, but this is still a restricted area. You're not authorized to be here."

"That's my . . . I . . . that hybrid is an offspring of my symbiont. Dax wants to see it." Not completely sure what drove her to come here, it was hard to explain her presence to the soldiers.

"Authorized personnel only past this point," the soldier repeated calmly but firmly. "You do not have permission to be here. I would advise you to take it up with Captain Riker. In the meantime, I'll have to ask you to leave the area."

Shaking and shaken, Ezri turned around and walked away.

.....................................................................

 

[Whoa Nellie]

Picard strode down the corridor toward his quarters. His discussion with Commander Chakotay regarding the 8472 situation had concluded hours ago, but the argument continued to swirl through his thoughts. This discovery of an 8472 would be noted in the next outgoing data stream transmission, but they wouldn't receive any recommendations from Starfleet on the situation for another month beyond that. Out here in the Delta Quadrant, situations developed and evolved too quickly to wait for orders from Starfleet; he had to make decisions that would impact the lives of every individual on this expedition. If Starfleet ordered him to intervene on behalf of the 8472, he could reverse his decision and, truthfully, it would be with a sense of relief. Unless ordered to do so, the safety of the expedition had to come before any personal act of conscience. He didn't like the situation on Diseneye any more than Chakotay, he just didn't have the same luxury of acting on his personal feelings here in the Delta Quadrant that he'd had back in the Alpha Quadrant. Feeling tired and much older than he'd felt yesterday, he entered his quarters with a long, loud sigh.

Vash was waiting for him, holding a glass of Aldebaran whiskey which she handed to him. "I thought you'd be needing this."

Draining the contents of the glass in one gulp, he handed it back to her and began to unfasten his uniform jacket. She was wearing a bluish-colored, softly-flowing sundress with a fitted bodice that accentuated her lush curves in all the right ways. Of course almost everything she wore flattered her figure, but she usually chose her outfits very carefully. He couldn't immediately discern what her endgame was here with her attire and solicitous greeting. "I really just don't want to know. Whatever it is, Commander Data can deal with it."

"This is actually me being the good wife," she insisted. Ordinarily she'd take mock offense at his assumption that her alcoholic offering was a pre-emptive gesture just to toy with him, but she decided to take pity. He'd been dealing with some pretty weighty issues lately. "I saw Chakotay a little while ago and considering his mood, I figured yours wouldn't be much better."

He tossed his jacket over a nearby chair and held up a hand to forestall whatever she was about to say next. "I refuse to discuss this matter with you, my decision has been--"

"Whoa nellie," Vash cut him off. "It's one thing to have my head bitten off when I actually deserve it--and I don't much care for it even then. I won't have you gloomy Guses taking your disagreement out on me when I'm not even involved. I was in his office to discuss Archaeology Department business with the head of the Anthropological Sciences Division. Chakotay didn't ask me to talk to you about anything. I don't have a dog in this particular fight so you can put your sword away, unless you want me to take that one away from you too."

In spite of his fatigue, he chuckled softly. Reaching out, he grasped her hand and pulled her to him. With his free hand, he ran his fingers through her silky brunette hair. "Je suis si desole, petite amie."

His softly murmured apology in that sexy, bedroom baritone melted her as it did every time, even after all these years. She stood up on her tiptoes to brush her lips against his, inviting him to deepen the kiss which he promptly did. His hands cupped her face as his tongue delved deep into the moist recesses of her mouth. Surrendering to his strength and virility, she let her hands slide around his waist to press their bodies closer together. After long moments, she felt him break off the kiss with a tired groan. Caressing the side of his face to smooth away the lines of worry evident there, she noted blithely. "You know, I really think there should be a regulation about people other than me doing this to you. There is absolutely no entertainment value in this for me."

"As opposed to the entertainment value when you do this to me?"

Vash placed a quick kiss on the tip of his nose. "Exactly."

Shaking his head with amusement, he watched her set their dinner out on the table. She always seemed to know when he needed to talk about something and when he needed to be distracted from thinking about something. He could barely remember his life before she came along and it paled in comparison to everything she brought into his life. He held her chair for her, seating her before sitting down across the table from her. Settling his napkin into his lap, he took a sip of wine. "So, you know how my day went, tell me about yours."

"I spent most of the day putting a team together for an away mission," Vash said. "Scans of a nearby moon showed an abandoned colony. I put in a request with the local government for permission to explore and I received a response from them this morning. They don't care if we poke around there, apparently it's sort of an interstellar ghost town."

Picard dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. "When will you be leaving?"

"I am actually not going. I'm sending Latona and Somnus with a team to check it out. If they find anything interesting, I can always join them later."

He paused with his glass of wine halfway to his mouth. She hadn't seemed upset after her misadventure with the Fen Domar--not nearly as upset as she'd been after that incident with the Vaadwaur at any rate. "Vash--"

"I'm fine," she sighed. "You can wipe that look off your face. I just thought that this would be a good opportunity to let my people do their own work. My Romulan husband and wife team are top-notch archaeologists in their own right, more than qualified to handle this."

Taking a sip of his wine, he carefully set the glass back down. "You must admit, the mature, responsible Vash puts in an appearance about as often as good wife Vash--not that I'm complaining, mind you."

"Jean-LUC!" Vash's mouth dropped open. She knew he was teasing, it simply wasn't as commonplace for him to push her buttons. She was usually the one tap dancing on his buttons. Arching her eyebrow, she grinned back at him. "That is going to cost you, mister."

"Dinner on C-deck?" he suggested. "Since you're otherwise unoccupied, I'll even throw in a show. If I recall, Mr. Yarnek has arranged an exchange program with a theater company from Diseneye. Our theater company is doing a couple of shows at their venue on Diseneye and their performers are doing a couple of performances here on the Enterprise."

Nodding, she made a show of examining her nails. "That sounds like I'll need to get a mani-pedi from the salon after a little shopping down on Diseneye for a new outfit and accessories."

"Yes, dear," he said wryly.

Vash tilted her head questioningly, keeping her voice casual. She wasn't sure how Jean-Luc would feel about her next suggestion. "You know, now that Ezri isn't under house arrest anymore, it might be nice to invite Julian and her to join us for the evening."

Her visits with Lieutenant Dax during the parasite gestation had been the source of arguments and strain between them. She had been concerned for a friend whereas he had been concerned for her safety. With the hybrid now safely ensconced in the incubation tank, he had no reservations about Lieutenant Dax. "Of course that also sounds like Lieutenant Dax will require a shopping trip and mani-pedi as well."

"Ooh, girls day out."

"Just make sure it's not girls behaving badly, ma petite."

............................................................................

Riker was having the most amazing dream. He was floating, buoyed by sensations of warmth and pure desire. Streams of light began moving down his chest, leaving tingles of pleasure in their wake. He could feel the gentle, pleasant throbbing as his body responded. His eyes flew open to find Deanna kneeling between his legs, the source of his erotic dream obvious.

'Good morning,' she thought to him.

"Good morning, I do trust that you were planning to wake me up at some point before you finished with me?"

'I've got what I need right here,' she thought to him impishly.

It was hard to think much less anything else. It occurred to him that they hadn't played on the holodeck in a while; his mind began wandering to some of the games they played in contemplation of some leisure time in the near future. While the idea of a baby appealed to him, he did realize that it would limit their amatory adventures. As that thought flashed through his mind, Deanna began showing him images of how creative they would be in keeping their sex life alive. Betazed women only grew more sexually aggressive and demanding with age, even though she was only half-Betazed, Deanna had no intention of ignoring that aspect of herself--or letting him neglect her needs. He felt her fingernails lightly grazing up his skin. Drawing her away from his body, he pulled her up and rolled so that she was beneath him. "That's not how babies are made, Imzadi," he rasped hoarsely.

Ever since she'd begun thinking about having Will's baby, her libido had gone into overdrive. Her mind sought his, his passion only fueling her own needs. Seducing him awake like that, feeling his body slowly respond without hesitation or resistance to the pleasure she gave him was indescribably precious. His weight pressed her into the mattress and she willingly yielded to him. Her hands reached for him when the communication system activated.

'Bridge to Captain Riker.'

Riker groaned, his own frustration compounded by Deanna's scream in his head. He slapped the control panel by the bed. "Riker here."

'Captain,' Commander Madden said. 'The away team is reporting in. You need to hear this.'

"Five minutes," Riker sighed. He got up and grabbed a uniform before disappearing into the bathroom.

"I only need five more minutes," she said. "Couldn't you have told him that you were in the middle of something and you'd be there in ten minutes?"

Riker answered through the open bathroom door. "Martin's a good first officer, Imzadi. He's confident in his authority and doesn't bother me with minor issues. If he thinks this is something that warrants my immediate attention, then it probably does."

Deanna whimpered briefly and swore softly under her breath.

"Did you say something?" Riker asked as he came out of the bathroom fully dressed. He sat down on the bed beside her to put on his boots.

"I said that this is Vash's revenge. I don't know how, but this is her revenge for all those years of Riker interruptus that she complained about."

He chuckled, leaning over to drop a quick kiss on her full, pouty lips. "Page number one of the First Officer's Survival Guide: If you're going to interrupt your captain, better to do it before than during."

............................................................................

Beverly materialized in one of the Titan's transporter rooms. Riker had caught her just as she'd been about to beam over to the Enterprise to catch her husband for lunch. Instead, a last minute adjustment to the transporter coordinates were made in response to a request for a meeting. Commander Madden was waiting in the transporter room.

"Captain Crusher," Madden nodded curtly in greeting.

The transporter chief spoke up. "The Enterprise is advising that Captain Picard is ready to transport."

As soon as Beverly was clear of the pad, Madden looked at the transporter chief. "Energize."

"Any idea what this is about?" Beverly asked Picard after his body shimmered and solidified in front of her.

He shook his head. "Nobody's shooting at us, but the communiqué indicated urgency."

"If you'll follow me, Captains," Madden said. "Captain Riker is waiting in his ready room."

Picard stepped down, gesturing for Beverly to precede him through the door. Out in the corridor, he fell into step beside her. With the constant threat of the Theoenas, Riker's soldiers were now a mandatory part of any away mission. Transporters had been reconfigured to scan for the neural parasites with each transport and periodic scans were completed on all three ships to detect their presence. Expedition security had become a great deal more complicated in the recent months and the responsibility for that had rested mostly on Will's shoulders. Will had proven himself to be a good captain, an excellent and level-headed choice to head up a military vessel. He had done a remarkable job of balancing the security needs with the need for people to go about the business of exploration and simply living. Beverly and Will had butted heads over aspects of the hybrid situation; both of them made valid points and it fell to him to find the balance between their perspectives. They stepped off the turbolift onto the bridge of the Titan.

 

[Whoa Nellie]

"Captains on deck," Madden crisply announced, snapping everyone on the bridge to attention.

"As you were," Picard ordered right on the heels of the announcement. Neither the Enterprise nor the Pasteur functioned under such a 'spit-and-polish' atmosphere, but the Titan, being a military ship, was run on a much tighter structure.

Madden pointed toward the ready room, stepping back to allow the captains easy access past him. He strode down to take over the command chair from the officer in charge of the bridge.

"Will," Beverly was the first to greet him once they were inside his ready room.

Riker looked up from his desk when the door slid open. "Beverly, Jean-Luc, come in. Have a seat. Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you," Picard declined, sitting in one of the chairs in front of Riker's desk with Beverly also shaking her head no as she took the chair beside him.

"We've had a development," Riker began. "The archaeology team exploring that abandoned lunar colony was approached by a lone humanoid male who surrendered himself to the security team providing escort. The archaeologists were returned to the Enterprise without incident and my people have secured the man on the moon for now."

"What was he doing there?" Beverly asked.

"More importantly, why would he surrender instead of just greeting them?" Picard wanted to know. "Is it possible there was a misunderstanding with the universal translator?"

Riker took a quick, almost instinctual look out the window before he responded. "He was there to make contact with us. According to what he's saying, the Theoenas sent him to serve as a host for the hybrid."

Beverly inhaled sharply. "They're here?"

"No," Riker answered. "At least we haven't picked up any sign of them. I've got a full detachment deployed at the lunar colony and I'm sending the Sigurd and Macha to do a scan for ships or any explanation for how he got onto that moon. We're on heightened alert here in anticipation of an assault, but there's no sign of them yet. I have launched the Rustam and Timur for tactical support just in case."

"No sign except for the convenient production of a mouthpiece through which to communicate with the hybrid," Picard noted.

"No!" both Beverly and Riker exclaimed in unison.

In spite of the seriousness of the situation, the corners of Picard's mouth quirked upward. "I think that's the first time since our initial encounter with the Theoenas that the two of you have been in complete agreement on anything with regard to the hybrid."

Beverly voiced her objection first. "Considering that those parasites back on Earth couldn't access the knowledge or memories of their host, that's a clear indication that the host is nothing more than a shell for them to exist in. This man is being condemned to a lifetime as a prisoner in his own body. I will not condone slavery, which is exactly what it would amount to."

Picard's eyebrow shot up. "Do you think I would condone it?"

"Of course not, Jean-Luc," Beverly replied apologetically. "You've already said that you wouldn't approve the implantation of the hybrid into anyone from the expedition. The fact that this man was sent by the Theoenas doesn't change the bioethical considerations."

"Yet the Theoenas have knowledge about this hybrid's physiology that we lack," Picard pointed out. "This man may have useful information."

Riker sat forward, resting his forearms on his desk. "Unlikely, those parasites have shown no regard for human life. It's more likely that this man was sent to facilitate the theft of the hybrid somehow or to distract us in advance of an assault."

"But there's no sign of them on sensors," Picard countered. "I agree that we should be alert, with the refit underway on the Pasteur, she's vulnerable at the moment. The Enterprise is close enough to extend shields around her and since we're in orbit, we can divert power from one of the warp engines to create the bubble around both ships as well. Direct assaults have proven ineffectual since that initial attack so perhaps they're taking an indirect approach."

"Which is why he's being held at the deserted colony on the moon," Riker said. "I don't think it's a good idea to bring him onboard any of the ships."

Picard nodded. "Agreed."

"So what's our next step?" Beverly asked. Dealing with external threats was Will's job and politics was Jean-Luc's; right now she didn't envy either one of them.

"Beverly, if," Picard held his hand out to forestall her objection. "*If* this hybrid were to be placed in a host, could it subsequently be removed without harming the host?"

This time it was Beverly arching an eyebrow at Picard. "In Trill, the symbiont can only be removed within the first 93 hours after implantation. Beyond that time frame, the joining is physiologically complete and the host will die without a symbiont. We don't know how the joining works among Theoenas. What we do know is that their position on the brainstem would allow it to inflict excruciating pain on its host or even kill the host with a thought. It would be a simple matter for it to cease respiration or even stop the heart before medical teams could get it out."

"Wouldn't that kill it too?" Riker pointed out.

"Yes, but giving it a host, even temporarily *and theoretically speaking*," she eyed Picard as she stressed those last three words, "would give it a hostage. Besides, if the altered genetics have affected its ability to merge with a host, the mere attempt could result in the death of both the host and the hybrid."

Picard stroked his face thoughtfully. "I'd like to meet with this prospective host. Would it be helpful in determining the possibility of successful joining if your people had access to a living Theoena and host, or at least scans of one, for comparison?"

Riker sat back in his chair, his hands rubbing his beard in obvious agitation. "I don't even know where to start listing my objections to everything you just said."

"I'm just keeping my options open," Picard assured him. "We can't be engaged in a cold war with the Theoenas indefinitely. This may be their idea of an olive branch. If there's any possibility of a truce or agreement of some sort, I have to at least consider it."

The communications system signaled an incoming message, interrupting Riker's reply. He impatiently slapped at a keypad on his desk. "Yes?"

"Incoming message from the Enterprise for Captain Picard," Madden informed him.

"Put it through, Commander," Picard requested.

Data's voice came over the comm. 'Captain Picard, there has been an unauthorized shuttle launch. Sensors are reading one life sign and scans were negative for parasitic life forms.'

"Can you identify the individual?" Picard asked.

'It is Commander Chakotay. He is not responding to hails and he has isolated the navigational controls. We are unable to override his control of the shuttle in order to assume remote command. His flight path utilized the Pasteur to block the use of a tractor beam. The Pasteur's tractor controls are offline because of the refit.'

Picard shot a glance at Beverly who looked just as startled as Riker and he were. "Is he heading toward Diseneye?"

'No, sir. His current course will take him out of this system. Should I send a shuttle in pursuit?'

Riker pointed toward the window of his ready room. "The Rustam and Timur are already out on patrol. I can re-direct one of them."

"No," Picard answered them both. "Keep trying to establish communication and let me know if he shows up anywhere near the planet. I don't know what he's up to but he'll be back."

'Aye, Captain,' Data replied, ending the transmission.

Picard tugged on his uniform jacket and regarded Beverly. "Any idea where your husband is going?"

"I wish I knew."

....................................................................

Beverly returned to the Pasteur wishing that she'd left a little sooner to surprise Chakotay for lunch. With the possibility of an imminent assault from the Theoenas, a threat that Chakotay was likely unaware of, she was concerned about him taking off on his own. He was resourceful, he could take care of himself. That thought did little to placate the worst-case scenarios flashing through her mind. She forced herself to put those thoughts aside and focus on her responsibilities as captain; she'd be a worried wife later. LaForge and Randall were having a private yet obviously intense discussion as she stepped out of the turbolift. "Gentlemen."

"Captain," LaForge said. "Anything going on we should know about?"

For a moment she was startled by Geordi's unusually intrusive question. Belatedly recalling that she'd been abruptly summoned to the Titan for a meeting, she realized that he was asking about that. Accepting a PADD that a crewman handed her with ship status reports, she sat down in her command chair. "The Theoenas sent a man to be a host for the hybrid. Captain Riker's people are holding him on the moon while we decide what to do with him. Mr. Randall, if there is an attack right now, what's the status of our defensive systems?"

Randall exhaled sharply, shaking his head in disgust. "This'd be 'bout the worst time. We got people crawlin' around all over our hull. I could probably give ya phasers and half the photon torpedo tubes. Power's offline in the areas where they're puttin' that skin on so shields would take a minute."

"Helm," Beverly directed her comment to Chilton manning the conn. "Keep us tight to the Enterprise. If there is an attack, they'll extend their shields around us. Geordi, let the crews working outside know to be alert."

Randall spoke up. "I can launch a couple of shuttles to provide some cover for them. I got some people who are behind on flight trainin' hours anyhow."

"Good idea," Beverly gave her approval. "There's no sign of them on sensors but that man was left on that moon somehow. I don't like being so vulnerable."

LaForge walked down to take his seat beside Beverly. "What about the man they sent?"

"We're going to see what he knows, what he has to say," Beverly answered.

LaForge half-rose out of his chair. "Captain! I--"

"Captain Picard," she interrupted her first officer's apoplectic fit. "Captain Picard has decided to meet with him at the lunar colony."

Sitting back down, he heaved a sigh of relief. "At least Data doesn't have to worry about blood pressure."

"I saw the results of your last physical, Geordi," she bantered. "Neither do you."

"Keep doing that and I may end up needing an artificial heart," LaForge shot back.

Randall interjected from his post at Tactical. "If she decides to do somethin' like that, she don't give ya a chance to argue with her. She just goes 'n does it."

"Thanks for the warning," LaForge remarked wryly.

"Don't mention it," Randall grinned. Getting serious, he addressed Beverly. "Are ya really thinkin' 'bout puttin' that critter in the host them parasites sent?"

"No," Beverly answered. "But, unfortunately, I can't rule it out as a possibility either. It's an option, not a good option, but still an option."

LaForge handed her a PADD. "Well, while Captain Picard is exploring that option, there's someone here you might want to talk to. We've received a formal request to be the hybrid's host."

Beverly reviewed the information. One of her Trill crewmembers was making the extraordinary request and had prepared a compelling argument. She was single with no children. She had included all of the relevant information from her initiate testing in her request, pointing out that as a surgical nurse, she wouldn't be considered a top-tier candidate for either of the symbionts on the expedition so it wouldn't negatively impact anything else. Her position also meant that she didn't have access to any sensitive or classified information that the hybrid could use against them. She demonstrated a clear understanding of all the risks involved, including the possibility of a failed joining. In summary, she stated that she believed she was the ideal candidate as a host for the hybrid and was willing to accept the risks and potential consequences. "The Trill Symbiosis Panel is refusing to recommend any Trill as a host for the hybrid," she told LaForge. "That's why she's submitting a formal request up the chain of command."

"You're not gonna do it." Randall's comment was a statement rather than a question.

"No," Beverly said firmly. "I wouldn't be comfortable authorizing the implantation of that hybrid into any living being at this point."

LaForge shrugged. "What if it comes down to a choice between one of our own people or one of theirs?"

................................................................

 

[Whoa Nellie]

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

Riker was in his ready room with his first officer and had just told him about their intention to meet with the man they were holding at the lunar colony. He could easily imagine the choice words Madden wanted to say. "If I deny it, will I end up having to reprimand you for insubordination?"

"Probably."

Settling himself comfortably in his desk chair, he waved toward Madden. "Let's hear it."

"You cannot go down there for a face-to-face meeting with an acknowledged agent of those parasites," Madden said.

Privately Riker agreed that this was a bad idea. They were already too involved with the Theoenas having a half of one onboard. Even entertaining the possibility of more involvement went against every fiber of his being. As much as he didn't want this hybrid, he also didn't want the Theoenas to have it either; not until they knew how much of Dax's knowledge it had inherited. "Captain Picard wants to hear what this man has to say."

Madden put his hands on the edge of Riker's desk and leaned forward. "Captain Picard is not my problem. You are my problem."

Stroking his beard in a thoughtful gesture gave him the chance to hide the smirk that crossed his face at his first officer's remark. While he didn't want to admit that there was a time he might have said exactly those words in a similar situation, if he were being completely honest Madden was a younger version of himself. "I am responsible for the safety of this expedition against external threats and, as you noted, this man is an agent of a clear external threat to this expedition. What that means is Captain Picard's safety at this meeting is my problem."

"You're sure it wouldn't be safer to bring him up, put him in our brig and let Captain Picard talk to him here?" Madden suggested.

Riker shook his head. "I thought about that, but that could be what they're waiting for. Scans have been negative for any transmissions and they haven't found any isotopes or unusual anything in his physiology, but I don't like it. They sent him to be a host, which means they want him to be in proximity to the hybrid. They could have some way of tracking him and as soon as he's onboard they launch some sort of offensive. These things don't use direct assaults, they use subterfuge, sabotage, sneak attacks."

"I see your point," Madden conceded. "So meeting on the moon that we've already secured is the least bad option. I still say that your being there is unacceptable."

"If there's any chance at all of this man actually coming onboard any of these ships and being a host to the hybrid," Riker said. "I want to look him in the eye first and one of the prerogatives as captain is to ignore your first officer's advice when it suits you. It's called pulling rank."

Madden slammed his hands on the desk in frustration. "It's bad enough to have the fleet captain of this expedition down there, it would be worse for two of the three expedition captains to be there together and you know it! During this meeting, both Captain Crusher and you need to be on your ships and all three ships should be at yellow alert in anticipation of an assault. I will assume responsibility for Captain Picard's safety while he's on the moon. You cannot be there with him. If you insist on meeting this man face-to-face, at least wait until after Captain Picard is safely back onboard the Enterprise. Let's limit the number of high priority targets vulnerable at any one time."

"So now you *want* Captain Picard to be your problem?" Riker asked, not able to resist giving his first officer a hard time. He knew that Madden was right, as much as he wanted to be there for the meeting it wouldn't be wise. He'd have to trust his first officer to get a read on the man for him. He was also impressed with the way Madden had stood his ground on the issue.

Madden straightened up, adjusting his uniform jacket. "If the solution to my problem of you means accepting the problem of him, so be it."

...............................................................................

Ultimately Commander Data had responded precisely as Picard expected. He had made his case and then requested that his formal objection be noted in the ship's log. Commander Lar had invoked Tactical Directive 36 and insisted on accompanying him to the meeting. Explaining to Data and Lar why he felt he had to do this wasn't easy and Picard didn't think either of them really understood. It just seemed that maybe people, himself included, were conferring the proverbial 'sins of the father' on the hybrid. It was not responsible for the circumstances of its creation or the actions taken in the past by its Theoena brethren. So far it had not offered any sort of threat. It was difficult to consider the hybrid as anything other than a threat; it felt like a constant struggle to force himself to stop and consider this situation from every conceivable angle. He had risked his career more than once to stand up against injustice, he couldn't perpetrate an injustice just for the sake of convenience now. He needed to be sure in his own mind that he gave all involved parties a fair chance to be heard. Considering the possibility that the only way to communicate with the hybrid was through a host, he couldn't reject any option out of hand.

Picard and Lar materialized on the moon. While the moon did have an atmosphere suitable for humans, there was no vegetation on the surface. It was a barren, rocky environment with dilapidated buildings forming a compound of sorts. Interstellar ghost town was an apt description for it. They were met at the transport coordinates by Commander Madden and a team of Titan soldiers. Lar was wearing a phaser but he had opted to go into this meeting unarmed; yet another point of objection that Data had lodged.

"Captain Picard, Commander Lar," Madden stepped forward. "I have everything arranged as you requested, Captain. The prisoner has already been moved to the meeting room."

"Guest," Picard corrected him quietly. "He came to us of his own volition, Commander. If he chooses to leave, we have no right to hold him."

Madden inclined his head slightly, acknowledging his point. "Of course, sir. He's waiting for you; this way."

As they walked through the colony, Picard noted the strategic placement of sentries, all of them alert and scanning their surroundings. The Titan personnel had this facility better secured than some Starfleet bases had been during the war. They took their role in this expedition seriously and it showed. It was obviously a reflection on Will's leadership and he made a mental note to include that observation in his next log entry. The group reached a building in the center of the colony and stopped.

"He's inside," Madden said. "There will be two guards in addition to Commander Lar and yourself in the room. All due respect, Captain Picard, I will be in the room along with one of my people at all times. I cannot allow you to be alone with him."

"Agreed," Lar echoed the security concern.

Picard relented. "Hand phasers only, no phaser rifles. I want to keep any show of military force to a minimum."

Lar and Madden looked at each other, nodding.

"Given that you have a telepath," Madden said. "That's acceptable. If anything even starts to go sideways, you get beamed out immediately."

"Understood," Picard replied.

In spite of the daylight streaming in through the windows, there were several portable lights inside the room brightly illuminating every square millimeter. At the table in the center of the room sat a humanoid male. He was easily as large as the average Nausicaan and appeared to be completely hairless. Every millimeter of skin that could be seen was mottled, patches of purplish-tone skin mixing with patches of dark tan skin. His head was fairly normal-shaped for a humanoid but his ears were thick slabs of ridged, oddly-shaped protrusions on either side of his head. His eyes opened as Picard approached the table.

"Hello, I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation starship Enterprise. May I sit?"

"I care not if you do," the man said in a calm, gravelly voice.

Picard sat down across from him. "Do you have a name?"

"For a while more I am Mal Colm."

The man was difficult for Picard to get a read on and he hoped that Lar was having more luck. He wasn't frightened or defensive but he also didn't seem aggressive or hostile regardless of his size. It was as if he simply existed, perhaps an air of resignation? "Mr. Colm, we are explorers from a great distance away so we are not familiar with the beings referred to as Theoenas. I was hoping you could help me understand them and why they sent you to us."

"The Ones have many names," Colm said. "They are the Gatekeepers of the Way. I was sent to be the instrument of the new One and teach you the Way."

"Instrument of the new One?" Picard asked in order to clarify. "Do you mean what we call a host or are you able to speak for it without contact?"

Mal Colm gave a strange, serene smile. "Host, yes; I am to be the eyes, ears and body of the new One when it becomes."

"You are willing to--"

"Honored," Colm interrupted. "I am honored to be chosen. I was a good laborer, I worked hard and was true to the Way. To be chosen as the instrument of a One means no more hard work. This body will live a life of leisure and I will see the Way. I will know the thoughts of a One and speak the words of a One."

Picard realized that among the usual religious beliefs, the man had said something significant. The Theoenas didn't know that the hybrid had been removed from Lieutenant Dax. If they were spawned fully formed, they must have assumed that Dax's position in Ezri's body created a difference and that her uterus was intended for symbiont gestation. They had only had a week to arrive with her at their planet, impregnate her and observe the rate of development. The hybrid had been removed before reaching full maturity, which they couldn't have known. They might have even attempted a spawning prior to creating the hybrid fetus. Deciding to keep that information back, an ace up his sleeve so to speak, he focused on the man's stated purpose. "What if we refuse your offer? What would happen to you?"

"I have been chosen and sent to serve the new One," Colm repeated. "I am the new One's instrument, I am required."

"What if we refuse to allow the new One to be put in your body?"

Colm sat forward, his gaze a direct, intense stare into Picard's eyes. "The Others were unhappy with you. You killed a queen One and took the new One but they will not allow any One to suffer for the actions of us lower forms. When the new One becomes, the Others demand to know that it has a voice. I am required."

.............................................................................

 

[Whoa Nellie]

Beverly threw the pillow to the floor in frustration. When there hadn't been any messages from Chakotay on the communications system, she had hoped that he at least left a note in their quarters for her. She had searched every centimeter of their quarters and turned up nothing. He was gone without any indication of where he was going or when he'd be back. She knew that he'd been upset about the Species 8472 in the alien zoo, but he'd had bridge duty last night so she hadn't had a chance to ask him how his meeting with Picard had gone. Heading back into the main room, she made a beeline for the computer terminal intending to call Jean-Luc when the door chime sounded. "Come."

The door slid open and Ezri Dax walked in almost hesitantly. "Captain Crusher, is this a bad time?"

"Lieutenant," Beverly greeted her. "No, it's fine. Please, come in. Would you like something to drink?"

"No, thank you. I'm sorry to bother you, it's just . . . I've given it a lot of thought and . . . I went to see the hybrid before and the guards wouldn't let me in."

Beverly had been expecting this ever since Randall had noted her attempt to enter the restricted area in his security report. Deanna had certified her psychologically fit for duty, there was no indication that the hybrid had affected or influenced either her or the Dax symbiont. That didn't explain why her ship's counselor wanted to enter a restricted area. "Why don't we sit down?"

Ezri took a deep breath and nodded her assent before joining her captain on the sofa. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, Tobin's urge to bite her fingernails an irritation. Collecting her thoughts, she tried again. "As I said, I've given this a lot of thought and I feel that I should be allowed to see the hybrid. I'm asking for authorization to enter the restricted area."

"May I ask why?"

"It is my symbiont's offspring," she argued. "If this were a human infant, no one would question my right to visit it."

Beverly acknowledged her point, inclining her head in a gesture of agreement. "What I'm more curious about is why you want to. This isn't a human infant and its creation was very traumatic for you."

"You're right," Ezri said. "It was awful and getting that thing out of my body has been a huge relief. It's just that Dax has participated in the creation and raising of human children in several lifetimes as both a mother and father. This is all kind of turned around, but now Dax has been a part of creating a life and since I chose to participate in that, it's not really fair of me to say 'that's that' just because it's out of my body. It's not like my symbiont can take off and go visit junior without me."

She had known that there was a chance Dax would choose to assert parental rights over the hybrid. It was a bit disconcerting to have that possibility present itself given the potential complications it created. In researching the ramifications of Dax's paternity in the event of this very situation, she'd determined that they would now have to get consent from Dax for every experiment or test that they conducted on the hybrid. Dax wouldn't have the right to remove it from quarantine or demand that it be placed in a host, but as a parent Dax would be entitled to a say in everything they did. "We still haven't been able to communicate with it."

"I know and I realize the risk that I've put everyone in with this whole thing," Ezri said. "I'm sorry for that--"

Beverly held her hand out to stop Ezri's apology. "You are not responsible for anyone else's safety on this expedition. I am responsible for everybody else on this ship, including you. I was unable to protect you and the consequences for you were horrific. You made your decision about an unimaginably difficult situation based on what was best for you; whatever your reasons, it was still your decision to make. So far the hybrid has not actively threatened anyone. If you wish to claim parental authority for the hybrid, I recognize your right to do so. You are entitled to be consulted on all aspects of the research on the hybrid and you are entitled to have visitation access. You will not be allowed physical contact under any circumstances. The incubation tank is to remain sealed during your visits."

"Not a problem," Ezri assured her. "I don't want to get any closer than absolutely necessary. To be honest, I haven't felt this confused since Dax and I were first joined. Dax feels a connection, a bond that I remember from how Lela, Audrid, Emony and Tobin felt toward their children. For me, that thing makes my skin crawl and I still feel a little sick when I think about how it came about. I chose to give this experience to Dax and I have to see it all the way through, but there's a limit to how far I'm willing to go with it. Visiting it, hopefully being able to communicate from a safe distance one day, being a part of its life--that's enough for both of us."

"All right," Beverly said. This conversation had answered a lot of her concerns about Ezri's desire to see the hybrid. "I'll have Commander Randall add you to the list of authorized personnel with the restrictions that I've already stated."

Ezri got up, a mixture of relief and consternation playing across her face. "Thank you, Captain."

Beverly stood up as well. "I'll note in the ship's log your request to exercise your rights with regard to the hybrid. You'll be kept informed on everything involving it and consulted before they perform any tests."

Pausing just before she got to the door, Ezri turned around. "Captain?"

"Yes, Lieutenant."

"Would it be all right if I took Julian with me to visit the hybrid?" she asked. "I'm not sure I want to go alone."

It actually made Beverly feel a little better to know that Bashir would be with her in the quarantine lab. "That would be fine. I'll see that he's placed on the authorized personnel list along with you."

...........................................................................

Riker took a quick sip of his coffee before continuing. The three captains were having breakfast in Picard's private dining room. These weekly briefings allowed them to discuss expedition matters and keep up with the details of ship operations on all three vessels. "Thanks to the extended deployment situation on the Pasteur, their routine security evaluation was completed ahead of schedule. There were no issues noted in the final report. The Enterprise's security evaluation was postponed due to the recent developments. Still no signs of Theoena vessels on sensors."

Picard spoke up. "According to Mr. Colm, he was left on the other side of the moon by a passing ship and walked to meet us. It took him more than a day."

"They were there and gone before we knew it," Riker concluded. He made a note on his PADD. "I'll have the sensor logs reviewed to determine what we can about the ship that dropped him off. There's a lot of traffic in this system--"

"Which is likely why they picked this opportunity," Picard finished his thought. "They've probably been following for a while, looking for a chance like this."

Beverly pushed her plate away, her appetite gone. "That's a pleasant thought."

"What's the status of the refit?" Picard asked when Riker had concluded his update.

"Seventy five percent done," she answered. "They've added a couple more work crews from the Enterprise to speed it up. Geordi estimates two more days but I'd like to give the work crews some down time on the planet to relax if that's possible. They've been putting in some long hours on this."

"Agreed," Picard said. "Any word from Chakotay?"

She shook her head, sighing. "No. Much longer and I'll be tempted to take my yacht out to look for him. He doesn't have the best track record with shuttles in this quadrant."

Riker arched an eyebrow at her. "I'll trust that you intend to take Randall and some of your security people, if not mine, on such a joyride?"

"For the sake of Geordi's heart, let's say yes."

His own joyrides with Vash flashed through Picard's mind and he cleared his throat to cover the guilty flush rising up his neck. "If there's nothing else in the category of routine business, we can move on to our last and biggest item on the agenda."

"The hybrid," Riker stated as he pushed his own plate away.

"The decision to allow this life to develop is behind us," Picard began. "Now we are faced with the responsibility for a new life. The Theoenas have asserted their connection to the hybrid through Mr. Colm. They sent him to provide a host for it in order to assure that their 'new One' is being provided for. They recognize it as one of theirs."

Beverly interjected a counter-argument. "The Trill have done the same. I received a formal request from a Trill member of the expedition to become the hybrid's host. Dax has officially asserted parental rights over the hybrid and requested visitation access."

"Which you . . . ?" Riker inquired.

"Denied the first and approved the second," she shot back, instantly on the defensive at his questioning of her command decisions. "I will not authorize the implantation of that thing into anyone without a great deal more information. The hybrid is stable in the incubation tank for now, no life is hanging in the balance here so there's no reason to make a likely irreversible, even potentially fatal decision like that. As far as Dax, there is no question that the Dax symbiont sired that offspring. As Ezri pointed out in her argument to me, if it were a human child, nobody would question her right or wish to visit. I placed the stipulation that she was to have no physical contact with it. During her visits, the tank is to remain sealed and she agreed."

Riker started to say something and switched gears. "What about the fact that Dax sired it? If the theory about genetic memory is right, three of Dax's hosts have been Starfleet officers--two of which were on the front lines of the Dominion War. How much knowledge did it take from Ezri and Dax during the pregnancy? How much has it learned about us during its time here? Given how close these things were to taking control of Starfleet Command before, imagine what they could accomplish with Dax's knowledge. What if we do give it a host and it decides to go be with its Theoena family? Can we afford to let it go?"

"If we allow a member of this expedition to be its host," Beverly said. "Then no, the hybrid would not have the right to leave against the wishes of the host."

"And if we use the host they sent?" Riker asked. "That body doesn't belong to us but the knowledge it potentially possesses could be devastating to the Federation. I don't see how we can even consider the host they sent as a viable option without knowing how much of Dax's knowledge this thing took. We have to find a way to communicate with it or find some answers in its genetic code . . . something."

Picard had been going in circles with these same arguments with himself for months. He had known that if the hybrid survived the gestation and transfer, they would be faced with these very questions. Being able to communicate with it would at least allow them to answer some questions, but ultimately he couldn't get around several important points. "This hybrid is the offspring of two sentient races, therefore we have to work from the assumption that it is also sentient, regardless of whether we can communicate with it. Will, I see your point and I agree with your concerns; however, you and I helped to define sentience and the rights of sentient beings under Federation law. We cannot ignore those rights when it suits us. The hybrid--this child--committed no crime; it is not our prisoner. The question becomes whether we willingly sacrifice another sentient life to that hybrid, regardless of how voluntary that sacrifice might be. There are still too many unknowns."

"I don't like that look," Riker said.

"I think that if the Theoena are serious about ensuring the proper care of their new One, they might be willing to provide us with information about their physiology and their history," Picard suggested. "Information that might help us find a way to communicate or understand this life in order to make an informed decision."

Riker did a double-take and then shot a glance at Beverly before looking back to Picard again. His voice slowly rose in pitch until he was yelling. "You must be out of your mind to even suggest that we open a dialogue with these things! Beverly, you tell him."

Beverly started to say something, stopped and finally sighed. "I don't know, Will. Do I want to have anything to do with the Theoenas? No. There's just so much we don't know about them and this hybrid--obviously there's a lot about this hybrid that they don't know either and no, I'm not suggesting we give them any information about Trill symbionts in exchange."

"I hope not," Riker commented, his frustration obvious.

Picard tried to explain his reasoning. "If they are willing to provide information, what they send us may tell us something about them or perhaps their motivation for creating this hybrid. Humans learn by studying, acquiring knowledge through our senses. The Borg learn by assimilating and what doesn't interest them is deemed not worthy of their attention."

"Are you suggesting that this whole thing is a matter of curiosity killing the cat?" Riker's disdain for that theory came through loud and clear in his tone.

Picard shrugged. "We know that these Theoenas don't consider humans worthy of their attention. This may have been their first encounter with a symbiotic life form other than their own kind. While it may seem like an unnatural means of gaining knowledge to us, Mr. Colm did indicate that they felt we had stolen the new One from them."

"They started it," Riker grumbled.

...........................................................................

Bashir collapsed onto the bed beside Dax, struggling to breathe. "Oh, I missed that."

"You and me both," she panted breathlessly. Lying there side-by-side and too exhausted to move, she allowed the afterglow to mingle with the comfortable intimacy, creating a warm cocoon. Safe and sated, her mind wandered to a subject she'd been looking for a way to broach with Julian. Rolling to her side, she draped herself over his body and trailed her fingers through the beads of sweat on his chest.

Julian tightened his arm around her. "If you want to go again, I'm afraid you're going to need to give me a few minutes."

Ezri giggled. "No, actually there's something I want to talk to you about and now seems as good a time as any, especially if you're too tired to say anything."

"I'm never too tired to say anything," Julian remarked. "Too tired to do anything, definitely but talking, no. What is it?"

She kept her cheek down on his chest, not wanting to look at his face. "I saw Captain Crusher and got permission to go and see the hybrid."

"Why?" he asked only to answer his own question. "Dax."

Raising her head, she defended her symbiont. "Julian, please. I got myself into this and I have to see it through. It's important to Dax."

He cupped her face with his hand, guiding her eyes to meet his. "I don't like you being anywhere near that thing."

"I don't like the idea of me being anywhere near that thing," she commented drily. "But that thing is Dax's spawn and Dax wants to see it."

Studying her face, he realized that she was dreading an argument with him over this. Not wanting to fight with her about something she'd obviously already made up her mind about, he just heaved a sigh of surrender. "When?"

"That's kind of up to you," she said hesitantly. "I was hoping you'd come with me; Captain Crusher gave permission. I just don't think I want to do this alone, at least not the first time."

Julian rolled them so that his body was covering hers and he stroked her short, dark hair as he gazed intently into her eyes. "Of course I'll go, Ezri. I told you before, no matter what we're in this together. I'll be right there with you, whatever you need."

...............................................................

 

[Whoa Nellie]

Beverly laughed at the back and forth ribbing between LaForge and Randall about their poker game the night before. She was casually scanning the incoming comm traffic and the sensor logs for the past twenty fours hours for any sign of Chakotay. Not wanting to be cooped up in her ready room staring out the window at the stars any longer, she was on the bridge with the rest of her bridge crew. The refit was nearly done, the work crews were just putting the finishing touches on them. By the end of the day, the Pasteur would be fully operational and hopefully better than ever. "So, Mark, why don't we ever see Cindy at the poker games?" she asked.

"Cause she'd read him like a book and clean him out," LaForge suggested with a big grin.

Randall laughed off that explanation. "Nah, she's jest not much for card playin'. Says at least here, given that I'm playin' poker with my bosses, she knows I can't go 'n get into too much trouble so she can relax and have our quarters to herself; herself and her pets, anyhow. It gives her a chance to let them little critters outta their cages."

"That's why you're never in any hurry to go home after the game breaks up," Beverly said. Cindy Randall's fondness for snakes was well-known not to mention the fact that she had a number of aquariums in the Randall quarters which housed several species of snakes. Mark referred to them as his wife's friends, but he obviously didn't share Cindy's love of them.

"I jest wanna make sure all them little fellers are present and accounted for safely tucked away in their beds before I get home," Randall offered.

LaForge leaned toward Beverly with a conspiratorial wink. "You just know he's got a checklist and goes through every night doing a head count before he goes to sleep."

"Wouldn't you?" Beverly asked.

Randall started to interject a comment only to be interrupted by an alarm sounding from the Tactical console. Even before he could isolate the source of the alarm, the comm system activated and the subject of their previous discussion called out.

'Mark, I need you down in quarantine,' Cindy said, urgency in her voice. 'There's a problem; it's the hybrid.'

By the time she finished, Randall was already bolting toward the turbolift. He had his phaser out, checking the setting and barely waited long enough for LaForge and Beverly to join him.

......................................................................

On the Enterprise, the ensign manning the Tactical station looked up. "Sir, the transponder on Commander Chakotay's shuttle just reactivated. The shuttle is at the outer edge of this system and he's hailing.

In the command chair Data laid down the PADD he had been reviewing and straightened himself in the chair. "Inform the captain," he instructed. "And put the Commander's transmission through."

'Commander Data,' Chakotay greeted him when the hail was answered. 'I realize that I have a lot of questions to answer. I'm fine, so is the shuttle by the way. I'd guess you've already had Captain Picard notified of my return. You should also contact Captain Riker and request that he beam over to the Enterprise for a briefing. I'd like to place that call to Captain Crusher myself if you don't mind so I can let her know I'm back. I have some people you need to meet.'

.......................................................................

The turbolift froze between decks prompting LaForge to run a quick diagnostic. He tapped several keys in rapid succession and the lift began moving again. "The hybrid security protocol has been activated," he explained to Crusher and Randall. "The ship went on emergency lockdown. I overrode the security lockout on this lift."

After what felt like minutes instead of mere seconds, the turbolift doors opened. Before any of them could exit, a security officer was pointing a phaser rifle into the lift, preventing them from stepping out. As soon as he realized who it was, he lowered the rifle and stepped aside. Not wasting any time, the three rushed past him and sprinted toward the quarantine lab. Randall's fingers flew across the door locking mechanism in his haste to enter the authorization code that would open the door. Bursting in, they found the two soldiers from the Titan who had been on guard duty with their weapons trained on a Vulcan Starfleet officer lying on the floor near the incubation tank. Cindy Randall was back against one wall of the room using a tricorder to scan the prone Vulcan. The incubation tank was empty.

"Report," Beverly demanded.

One of the soldiers spoke up without taking his focus off of the Vulcan. "He took the hybrid."

"Took?" Beverly asked. "Where?"

"He ate it," the other soldier said, his confusion obvious.

Cindy took a couple of steps forward, still staying well clear of the situation near the tank. "Something happened when Vurel touched the tank. I was getting ready to feed it so it was up against the inside of the tank. I didn't really see Vurel's reaction, I just noticed his hand flat against the outside of the tank. The hybrid got agitated and the next thing I knew, Vurel was shoving me away. He reached in through the opening where I had the feeding cap off, pulled the hybrid out and put it to his mouth. My scans show that it burrowed through the oropharynx and attached itself to his brainstem. It's joining with him."

Beverly slapped her communicator. "Medical emergency. Surgical team--"

"No," Vurel spoke for the first time. There were trickles of blood coming out of his mouth as he gingerly sat up. "I do not require surgery, Captain. I chose this."

"And you are?" Beverly asked cautiously. This thing now had a hostage, she had to proceed carefully.

"Vurel, Lieutenant junior grade; I am a linguist in the Anthropology department on the Enterprise. I assure you that I am in control of my thoughts and actions."

Randall snorted derisively. "That's debatable."

Beverly waved him to silence. "What about the hybrid, Lieutenant?"

"It is . . . here," Vurel said hesitantly. "Strange, a most remarkable experience to hear thoughts that are not your own."

LaForge had positioned himself between the Vulcan and his captain. He studied the Vulcan, seeing the hybrid inside Vurel, a distinct life within the Vulcan's image. There were two different but visually equivalent spheres of activity in Vurel's brain. "Why, Lieutenant?"

"It was . . . dianoetic," Vurel stated calmly.

"It seemed like the logical thing to do at the time is not an explanation, Lieutenant," Beverly snapped. She gestured to the soldiers. "Get him to Isolation Bay Four, I'll have Dr. Bashir meet us there."

As the soldiers escorted the still-shaky Vulcan out of the lab, Randall noticed his wife look at the incubation tank almost wistfully. He checked her quickly for any sign of injury. "You okay, honey?"

"I'm fine," she sighed. Noticing the concerned expression on his face, she stroked his cheek in a reassuring gesture. "Vurel just shoved me down. I got hurt worse teaching you to dance before our wedding."

He caught her hand and kissed her palm. "So what's wrong?"

She shrugged. "The little guy was starting to remind me of Herbie."

"Is that the big, blue--"

"Bolian, bullhead python," she corrected him with a patient smile. "Yes, the big, blue one."

Randall wrinkled his nose. "He hates me, y'know."

Cindy stepped closer to Mark, resting her hand on his chest. "He's just jealous of you. He loves me and doesn't like to share me with you. He always slithers part way up the side of his aquarium when I go to feed him. The hybrid was getting into the habit of coming over to where I put the food in whenever I took the feeding cap off the tank."

"Did you make a note of that?"

Cindy rolled her eyes at him. Grabbing a canister, she filled it with fluid from the incubation tank. "I'm not new at this, Mark. Yes, I noted it in my observations. It's a simple operant conditioning reaction that goldfish will exhibit with enough repetition. Now, I need to get to Isolation Bay Four and check on the hybrid's condition. If they remove it, I'll need to get the little guy back into its tank quickly."

Randall caught her arm as she brushed by him. He pulled her to him and dropped a quick kiss on her lips. "Cin, be careful. That's not one of your little friends you're talkin' 'bout."

......................

By the time Chakotay docked his shuttle, he was met in the Enterprise shuttle bay by Commander Data, Commander Lar and a full security team. If any of them were shocked by his guests, they kept it to themselves. Of course as a Betazoid, Lar would know their true nature and that they were not hostile; the security people would follow his lead. After a security sweep for parasites and perfunctory introductions, the group headed for the conference room. Upon entering, he saw LaForge talking with Picard and Riker but no Beverly. The three looked up when Chakotay and his guests walked in. As much as he wanted to ask where Beverly was, he had a mission to focus on. "Captain Picard, Captain Riker, Commander LaForge, may I present representatives of Species 8472. Boothby and Valerie Archer are the forms they used during our last encounter. I thought it might make this meeting a little easier."

As shocked as he was to see Boothby walking into his conference room, the instant that Chakotay began the introductions, Picard realized what he'd done. Chakotay had obviously taken the shuttle out of the system in order to send a message into fluidic space. The thrill of meeting Species 8472 in person was tempered by the knowledge that the Delta Expedition was about to be dragged into the middle of an alien dispute. He stood respectfully, his reaction as much about the face that one of them was using as it was his years of experience in diplomacy. He gestured toward the empty chairs around the table. "Greetings and welcome to the Enterprise. I am honored to meet you. Commander Chakotay has spoken very highly of you."

"The legendary Jean-Luc Picard in the flesh," Boothby exclaimed in his own inimitable manner. He plopped himself down in a chair. "Good to meet you, son; bad circumstances, though."

Archer took a seat between Boothby and Chakotay at the table. "Your reputation is known to us, Captain Picard. Commander Chakotay has spoken highly of you as well. He told us about the situation down on the planet. We'd like to get this resolved as quickly as possible."

Lar and Data sat down on the other side of the table, leaving the security team to stand along the back of the room on alert. Lar very subtly shook his head in response to Picard's unasked question of whether or not they posed a threat to the ship.

"Yes, Picard said with a look in Chakotay's direction that spoke volumes. "Commander Chakotay has been most disturbed by this since his discovery. He has made extensive efforts to win a diplomatic resolution to this matter."

Chakotay sighed, the memory of endless hours spent running in bureaucratic circles still fresh and frustrating. "I even tried to purchase it from their museum just to get it out of there."

"And?" Riker asked.

"Apparently it's a very popular exhibit and they weren't willing to part with it at any price," Chakotay answered glumly.

LaForge turned in his chair to address Boothby. "Do you have any idea how this . . . your . . . 8472 got there?"

"That's as good a name for us as any, son," Boothby told him. "You couldn't pronounce our real name so that Borg one'll do just fine. As for our wayward friend, we've determined that he's one of our young ones. A real curious fellow, full of questions about everything, especially non-fluidic space."

Archer interjected with a comment of her own. "He was too young to participate in the Borg wars or the terrasphere training re-creations. By the time he'd reached an appropriate age, we'd pulled out of non-fluidic space entirely."

Boothby snorted. "So he decided to strike out on his own and go lollygagging around the galaxy."

Picard gave an understanding sigh. "The very young do not always do as they are told."

"And look at the trouble that gets them into," Boothby challenged.

Riker looked from Boothby to Archer. "Can you just go down and retrieve him?"

"If they go down in this form," Chakotay responded. "The locals will see and hear humans and I doubt they'll get much further than I did. If they go down in their natural form, they won't be able to speak. The locals don't believe in telepathy; if they can't communicate out loud, they'll be considered lower life forms. I already tried suggesting a universal translator rigged to allow the 8472 to communicate out loud, but apparently the use of technology is cheating to the locals."

"Catch-22," Picard noted. "Which makes a peaceful resolution impossible. What about transporting the 8472 out of the museum display?"

Archer shook her head, looking to Picard with an expression of reluctance. "Our kind produce a biogenic field around our bodies. This makes us impervious to most sensors."

Data had studied Voyager's information on Species 8472 and had arrived at that conclusion. "Our transporters cannot lock onto the bio-sign; it will not be possible to utilize transporters."

Picard searched for the words he had to say. This was an easier decision when he wasn't trying to explain it to representatives of that same race. Explaining to an individual appearing with the face of a man he'd come to respect more than any other individual he'd ever known was beyond difficult. He knew exactly what the real Boothby would have to say about the answer he had to give which didn't help. "I realize that this is an unfortunate situation; however, the Federation has a clear policy of not involving itself in the affairs of other races. This is really a matter between the locals on Diseneye and your people. We could offer to mediate the dispute--"

"Captain Janeway didn't have a problem intervening to help the Borg destroy us," Archer jumped in accusingly.

Chakotay laid a calming hand on her arm, holding his other hand up to forestall Boothby's comment. "That was a misunderstanding. Voyager got caught in the middle of your war and we didn't realize that the Borg had started it. I thought we put all of that behind us the last time we met."

"Pretty convenient if you ask me," Boothby said, his eyes narrowing. "You create that damned nanoprobe weapon and slaughter us when it suits you. You turn around and say 'oh, sorry,' when you decide you want to make friends, but when we ask you for something, you can't be bothered. Targ manure."

Riker sat forward. "You held your own against the Borg and yet this is beyond your capability?"

"The Borg couldn't assimilate them," Chakotay pointed out. "The Borg--"

"Can only understand what they can assimilate," Picard finished the explanation.

Archer leaned forward, meeting Riker's gaze in an almost challenging manner. "We do have the capability to bring our bio-ships here and completely destroy that planet along with everyone on it. We could go down there in our natural form and fight our way into that prison to free our kindred, killing anyone who got in our way. In our re-creations, our people learned about humans, studying them and I became quite fascinated by humans. I even came to question whether humans were as violent and dangerous as my people believed them to be. Captain Janeway and the Voyager crew told us that the Federation wasn't our enemy, that they wanted to be friends; she asked for our trust. Chakotay contacted us to let us know that one of ours was in trouble, the act of a friend. We came to rescue our kindred and he suggested that we come to you in order to find a non-violent solution; a way out where nobody had to get hurt. He told us that Starfleet helped friends in trouble. We trusted him but obviously not all of you feel the same way toward my people."

"Ms. Archer," Picard intervened between Riker and the female 8472.

Boothby exploded at him. "Don't you 'Ms. Archer' her, Picard. Janeway said you people wanted to be our friends. Well, do you? Or is that just a load of targ manure to get us to be nice to you? We're here asking for help because we don't want a fight. We're not a violent people by nature, Captain Picard. The Borg started that little dust-up, we were just defending ourselves. There are still many of my people who don't trust humans or your precious Federation after our previous encounters with your kind. They think we should have purged the galaxy of you when we had the chance. Oh we can get ships here, we can take our young one back by force. Of course it's just as likely that others among our kind will decide that pulling out of this part of the galaxy was a mistake and them people down there on that planet won't be the last humans killed. Is that what you want? I won't beg. I'll be nice and polite, but I won't beg."

Picard took a deep breath before he responded. Half of the defensiveness he was feeling came from the face of the man he was talking to, the other half came from his dislike for the position he felt he had to take as the military governor of sorts. He was responsible for this Federation colony, his decisions couldn't be the same cavalier decisions he'd made as just one of many Starfleet captains. There was more to consider now. "Friendship is a two-way street, Mr. Boothby. You're right and you must know that I find this senseless incarceration of any sentient life to be abhorrent. You need to also understand that we are alone out here, not quite the dire circumstances that Voyager found itself in, but still far from the support of the Federation."

"We have enough to deal with," Riker added. "Especially now considering the constant threat of attack from the Theoenas."

Chakotay looked up the table to where Picard sat. "It wouldn't need to be an open assault, sir. We could take a team in for a covert extraction. I have some ideas, I'd just need some help. I was banned from their zoo after my diplomatic efforts failed. If I even show my face down on the planet, their security people will probably be watching my every move like a hawk."

"You'd also need my approval," Picard suggested pointedly.

 

[Whoa Nellie]

An unrepentant expression on his face, Chakotay's voice was soft but firm. "I would like to have your support for this rescue, Captain."

Lar met Chakotay's gaze for several seconds and nodded. "I'll volunteer, Captain. There's nothing going on security-wise here on the Enterprise at the moment whereas the Titan people have their hands full with the other on-going situations. With your permission, I can put together a team to non-forcefully liberate the 8472 from that museum-zoo on Diseneye and see them safely back to fluidic space."

"I'd like to be a part of that," Chakotay said.

Picard relented, not that he'd had a choice. Captain Janeway had begun diplomatic relations with this race. The Federation did have a history of intervening in response to direct requests for assistance from even races not particularly friendly with the Federation. That was precisely what Chakotay had been counting on. Picard could refuse to intervene in a situation that didn't involve them, but a direct request for help from a race friendly to the Federation could not be ignored. "There is a very old Earth toast, 'there are good ships and there are wood ships, the ships that sail the seas, but the best ships are friendships and may they always be.' My people have always found value in friendship and part of that is a responsibility to be a good friend. Commander Chakotay obviously feels very strongly about your friendship and that we have an obligation to help in this matter, so we will. Commander Lar, you are authorized along with Commander Chakotay to help our friends free their wanderer and return them to their space."

Riker cocked an eyebrow at Lar. "Try to avoid getting into a fight. I'm hoping to not have to test the Pasteur's refit for a while at least."

"I'll second that," LaForge threw in.

"Don't worry, sirs," Lar assured them. "With a little ingenuity and some luck, they won't even know that we were involved. I didn't spend all that time as Mrs. Picard's personal security officer without picking up a trick or two."

Picard didn't want to know what he meant by that. It was almost with a sense of relief that he addressed Boothby and Archer, giving them his most diplomatic smile. "While my people are getting things ready, perhaps my first officer, Commander Data could take you on a tour of the ship. Commander Chakotay, I'd like to see you in my ready room."

As everyone was getting up to attend to their various responsibilities, LaForge stopped beside Chakotay. "Captain Crusher said she's glad you're back. She had a situation to deal with over on the Pasteur but she wanted me to tell you that she was looking forward to seeing you later."

................................................................................

"All right, Lieutenant Vurel," Bashir was saying, "now I need you to say the alphabet backwards."

"Did you have any particular alphabet in mind, Doctor?" Vurel asked calmly. At Bashir's blank expression, he clarified. "I am a linguist and therefore familiar with a large number of alphabets."

He was in an isolation bay on the Pasteur running scans on the Vulcan along with Cindy Randall. Steps away from the bio-bed were two soldiers and watching from outside the room were Captain Crusher and Mark Randall. Through the observation window, he saw Ezri arrive and the captain begin speaking to her. They'd had to notify Dax of the development with the hybrid. "I just need to measure brain activity in different areas of your brain. Why don't you list the third letter of every alphabet you can think of."

"The hybrid wishes to know if you require the same information from it as well," Vurel said.

Bashir looked at Cindy who shrugged. "That's not an offer I usually get from my patients," she said. "Sure, why not."

"How about we start with you, Vurel, and then the hybrid can complete these tasks," Bashir suggested.

From outside the isolation bay, Beverly activated the intercom. "Dr. Bashir, Dr. Randall, a telepath is here to scan him. What have you found so far?"

Bashir spoke first. "The readings are pretty similar to joined Trill. There are two distinct brain waves and I'm seeing neural pathways being formed between them as we speak. This looks like the physiological process that a Trill host and symbiont undergo when they're first joined. If we're going to remove the hybrid, we should do it now."

"No," Vurel objected. "I do not desire removal of this individual. You cannot take it."

The telepath, who was carefully remaining behind the soldiers, provided his initial impression. "He's sincere, Captain. I'm getting two distinct individuals within the lieutenant. Neither of them are experiencing distress. There is a very strong sense of curiosity and confusion, I can't be sure which thoughts are which just yet."

"The curiosity and confusion are the hybrid's current mental state," Vurel provided. "It does possess the genetic memory of the Theoenas, but there seems to be fairly substantial gaps and there is no knowledge of Trill."

Beverly realized what they'd all overlooked in their concerns about the hybrid. "Those gaps are probably due to Dax's DNA. Since Trill symbionts don't store memories in their genetic code the same way that the parasites do, it would create holes in its knowledge."

"Dr. Randall," Dax stepped toward the intercom. "How is the hybrid? Is there any sign of rejection?"

Cindy shook her head, her blond ponytail whipping around her neck. "No. There's an increase in neural activity but the basic biological functions that I've been able to map out seem to be holding steady."

Vurel began to get off the bed only to have the soldiers motion him back. He looked over at the observation window. "Captain, I realize that my actions seem irrational but I assure you that I knew what I was doing. If I could explain, I would. I only know that I require this arrangement to remain."

"He is most sincere in his statement," the telepath noted. "I do not detect any duress in his thoughts."

Beside Beverly, Randall snorted. "He's sincerely nuts is what he is."

"Commander Randall," Beverly hissed. She was right back to square one, an alien symbiont-parasite hybrid inside a member of the expedition who was refusing to consent to its removal. If they were going to do anything at all, it had to be soon. At least with Lieutenant Dax she knew that Ezri wasn't being unduly influenced by the hybrid. The telepath didn't detect coercion between the two minds, she just wished there was a way to be certain that she was talking to the Vulcan. She keyed the intercom. "I have an idea, but I need to test it. Dr. Bashir, Lieutenant Dax, I'll need your help."

......................................................................................

The two men walked in silence during the short distance between the conference room and Picard's ready room. Chakotay followed Picard, fully prepared for the lecture he knew was coming. It wasn't that he intended to defy the chain of command or Picard's authority. There simply hadn't been any other way, that fact had been made very clear in his meeting with Picard and Data. There would be consequences, he knew that and was fully prepared to accept whatever his captain deemed appropriate. The only thing that mattered was they would not leave that 8472 in the alien zoo.

The second his ready room door slid shut behind them, Picard turned to face Chakotay. "Did it even occur to you to ask before contacting them?"

"You might have said no," Chakotay answered. "Then I would have had to disobey a direct order."

Before replying, Picard moved calmly but deliberately around his desk to sit down. "I am very disappointed, Commander. I had hoped that you would be a good influence on my wife. It seems that, instead, she has been a bad influence on you. Asking forgiveness rather than permission is utterly unacceptable conduct. I will not tolerate the Vash manuever from any Starfleet officer in my command."

There were any number of good reasons why this course of action had been necessary. Having been a captain himself for a short time in the Maquis, Chakotay knew that none of those reasons mattered here. He wouldn't want to hear them any more than Captain Picard was in the mood for rationalizations. "Yes, sir."

Picard continued with his lecture. "Not only what you did, but how you did it, Commander. Leaving the ship alone with no indication of where you were going was completely irresponsible. You of all people should know how reckless and dangerous that was. A number of people were very concerned about your absence, myself included. You are a valued member of my crew and someone I consider a friend outside of the command structure. Beverly was very worried about you, Chakotay."

"I know, Captain, and I wish that could have been avoided," he acknowledged. "If the message into fluidic space came from any of our ships, the Diseneye officials would know. By leaving the system, there is no evidence of our involvement. You have plausible deniability with the locals."

"I also didn't have a choice," Picard snapped. "You deliberately set about to force me into a position where we are obligated to help these 8472."

Chakotay couldn't stop the response that leaped to his lips, however ill-advised he knew it was. "That obligation was already there. You said you couldn't act outside of a direct request. I simply provided what you needed in order to meet our duty."

Picard sat forward in his chair, locking his gaze on Chakotay's face. "I am not Captain Janeway, Commander. I don't know how she ran Voyager, but there is nothing about your behavior that is acceptable on my ship. I decide what our obligations are. Is that clear?"

"Crystal, Captain."

"We now find ourselves involved in a jail break," Picard sighed. "Your timing could not have been much worse, Commander."

Chakotay stiffened, confusion and concern reflected in his face. "Has something happened?"

Picard sat back. He rested his elbows on the arms of his chair and steepled his fingers in front of him. "The Theoenas sent us a host for the hybrid. The man surrendered himself to the security detail guarding the archaeology team that was exploring the abandoned lunar colony."

"Were there any injuries?"

"No, Commander, your people are fine. The individual surrendered himself without incident," Picard assured him. "Although, his presence is now moot. Just before you arrived with your guests, Commander LaForge informed us that the hybrid had found its way into a Vulcan officer from the Enterprise. Beverly is attending to that matter."

Chakotay kept himself in the military attention stance, fighting the urge to pace. Evidence of Theoena activity in the area would have added an additional element of concern to his absence. Fireball must have been beyond worried. That would have to be dealt with later. Duty first. "If this host that the parasites sent is willing to talk--"

"Commander Data already assigned a team from your department to interview him," Picard said. "Mr. Colm has been very willing to teach us the error of our ways."

"I'll check with my people and get up to speed on this as soon as the 8472 matter is taken care of, Captain."

Picard tugged at his uniform jacket as he corrected him. "When the 8472 matter has been resolved, there will be consequences for your actions here."

"I understand, Captain," Chakotay replied. That was the primary reason he hadn't said anything to anyone before he left. The consequences were his alone. "In the meantime, may I suggest that you catch up to the tour? This is a rare opportunity for you to spend some time getting to know our 8472 friends."

.........................................................................

Vash was in her office reviewing the report from the archaeology team that she'd sent to explore the abandoned lunar colony. They hadn't been able to get more than preliminary scans before the alien showed up and Will's people turned it into a detention center. There was nothing of any significance on the scans or recordings of the site, at least nothing that would give her grounds to argue with Jean-Luc about letting her people go back given the Theoena risk. She was startled by the door to her office opening and more startled by who was entering her office. "Well, Geoffrey, this is a pleasant if unexpected surprise; especially since I haven't done anything that would warrant a visit from Security--at least not lately."

The barest hint of a smile was the only outward acknowledgement of her comment. Lar extended a PADD toward her. "I am actually seeking some advice."

"Romance?" Vash exclaimed gleefully, waggling her eyebrow. "But shouldn't you know exactly what a woman wants? You know, the telepathy thing."

Lar had learned long ago not to play with Mrs. Picard so he simply ignored her banter. "There is something that I need to procure without those currently in possession of it knowing."

"Ooh, what are we stealing?"

"*We* are not stealing anything," he corrected her. "You are not leaving this ship and you have so had more than your share of fun lately. Need I remind you of the incident with the Fen Domar?"

Vash pursed her lips at him and waved her hand in a dismissive fashion. "A mere failure to communicate, nothing more."

"Commander Chakotay and I are preparing a team to liberate one of the displays at the zoo on Diseneye."

"The 8472 that Chakotay's been so upset about?" she asked.

Lar nodded. "Representatives from Species 8472 have asked the captain to help them free it and he's agreed. I am simply seeking your thoughts on the best way to extract the individual without provoking open conflict as diplomatic efforts have all been exhausted."

Vash studied the schematics on the PADD. "You know, this sort of thing is a lot more fun when you don't have permission in advance."

"I'll take your word on that."

"Okay," she motioned him around to look over her shoulder. "Here's how I would do it if I were the sort of individual to engage in such illicit behavior."

.........................................................................

Onboard the Pasteur, Beverly exited Bashir's office in Central Medical where they'd been discussing the feasibility of her idea. Bashir went to retrieve the necessary equipment while she walked over to where Ezri and Jax Odan were waiting. "Odan, thank you for coming."

"Dax said you needed my help. What can I do?"

"If you'll both lie down on the bio-beds," she began. "I'd like to try putting your symbionts to sleep; if they'll allow me."

Bashir came over with a tray. Setting it down beside the bed that Ezri was stretched out on, he handed a device and a tricorder to Beverly. "Here we are."

"This is a neural caliper," Beverly explained to both of the Trill. "It's used to suppress brain activity during surgery. Since joined Trill have two brain wave patterns, I'm hoping that we can calibrate this to suppress a specific brain wave frequency."

Bashir began scanning the Dax symbiont. "If it works, we can suppress the symbiont without affecting the host at all."

Ezri realized what they wanted to do. "You want to force the hybrid into a dormant state without risking harm to either Vurel or it."

"If it works with the two of you and if they'll permit it," Beverly acknowledged. "Of course, Dax would also need to consent as the parent of one of the patients in question."

Ezri had already told Odan of the unexpected joining. He laid down on the bio-bed with his hands clasped behind his head. "By all means, Dr. Beverly, you may proceed."

"Agreed," Ezri said. "Dax has no objections to this and is fine with it being done on the hybrid if it works on us."

Beverly scanned Odan and set the neural caliper to match the symbiont's brain wave frequency. She gave him a reassuring smile as she placed the caliper on his abdomen over the symbiont. Switching it on, she began scanning. Beside her Bashir was doing the same with Dax.

Jax shivered. "This is odd."

"It's working?" Beverly asked.

"Yes; however, if you can increase the strength you should. I can still feel a slight murmur," he suggested.

Making a slight adjustment on the caliper settings, she announced. "Increasing by 5%."

Jax took a deep breath. "That did it."

Ezri gasped, reaching out for Julian's hand when he made the same adjustment on hers. "This was exactly how Jadzi felt when Verad stole Dax from her. The emptiness, the loneliness, it's . . . "

Bashir held her hand as he scanned her. "There's no change in isoboramine levels, the link seems to be unaffected. What about Odan?"

Comparing her scans of him from before and after the caliper had been activated and adjusted, she nodded. "Same here."

"It's as if Odan and all of the previous hosts are gone," Jax remarked with amazement. "There is just nothing, I am completely alone in my body."

Bashir gave Ezri's hand a comforting squeeze and then addressed both of the Trill. "I realize that this is difficult for you, but I'd like to leave the calipers on for a little while longer to monitor its effect. If anything at all starts to fluctuate, we'll deactivate the calipers immediately."

"Assuming Lieutenant Vurel consents," Beverly told him. "Have a telepath with you when you use the caliper on the hybrid. See what Vurel has learned about the hybrid, what it wants and just how much control it has over his actions. I want no doubt whatsoever about Vurel's state of mind. If there's any sign of manipulation or coercion, whether Vurel consents or not, I want that hybrid back in its tank."

................................................................

 

[Whoa Nellie]

................................................................

The atmosphere in the shuttle was one of victory. Once they were safely away from the planet and enroute out of the system, Chakotay turned the controls over to Commander Lar. The rest of their little commando unit had returned to the Enterprise while Lar and he returned the 8472s to fluidic space. In the rear compartment of the Flyer, Boothby and Archer were checking their young friend. Chakotay joined them, stopping short when the young 8472 hissed at him.

"He's a friend," Valerie assured the young 8472. "He's the reason we're here and you're free."

Boothby looked at Chakotay and shook his head, shrugging. "Nothing personal, son."

"I understand," Chakotay said. "He's been through a lot at the hands of humans. I don't blame him. Is he all right?"

Valerie smiled. "He's fine. Some minor issues, mostly malnutrition. They were feeding him but not the right nutrients."

"Well there's no sign of pursuit. It looks like we got away clean so we'll have you home in just a little while longer," Chakotay told them.

Boothby stepped over to Chakotay and clapped him on the arm. "You did Janeway proud, son. I don't know how to thank you for this."

"No need. What my people and I did was the right thing to do. The Federation does take its friendships seriously and Captain Janeway was sincere when she told you that we wanted to be your friends."

Giving Chakotay's arm one, final, light tap, Boothby perched himself on a table. "You may end up changing more than a few minds about humans when word of this spreads back home."

"My people would welcome an envoy from your people to continue our relationship. Captain Janeway is back in the Alpha Quadrant and I know she'd be happy to act as an intermediary if you'd like to make contact with the Federation. She's the captain of a ship called the Voluspa now. I've put all the information you need to get in touch with her or me on this data chip. The Delta Expedition will be exploring this region so I don't know where we'll be at any given time. We'll be remaining in orbit of Diseneye for a little while longer. If we break orbit right after your friend there went missing from their zoo, they might get suspicious." Chakotay handed him the data chip as he was talking.

"Good thinking," Boothby chuckled briefly and then turned serious. "If there's anything we can ever do for you, just contact us the same way you did this time. We'll be monitoring your frequencies."

Chakotay extended his hand for a handshake from Boothby. "I'll remember that. I just wish we could meet under better circumstances and have more time to spend together. There are a million questions I'd like to ask."

Valerie gave a wistful smile. "We do seem to say hello only to say goodbye."

Boothby spryly hopped off the table. "Your friend in there, Commander Lar, is telling me that we're clear of the Diseneye's system. It's time to go."

"We'll seal this compartment," Chakotay told them. "You can transform back and access the cargo hatch over there to leave. Just let Lar know when you're ready and we'll send the signal through for your bio-ships to open a singularity from that end for you."

Valerie caught Chakotay at the door to the compartment. "Maybe we could give that kissing thing another try before I go."

Chakotay tapped her lips with his finger. "As I recall, you were pretty good at that kissing thing. It's just that I'm married now. It happened after our last meeting. She's here on the expedition with me; you didn't get a chance to meet her."

"She's a very lucky woman," Valerie said.

Giving her a chaste kiss on the cheek, he replied. "I'm a very lucky man."

Lar didn't look up from the navigation controls when Chakotay slid into the seat at the ops station. "Aft compartment is sealed. They're ready."

"Sending the signal now," Chakotay said.

Within minutes, a singularity formed, opening a rift between normal space and fluidic space. The two men watched three forms glide gracefully toward the singularity and disappear from sight.

Lar set course back toward Diseneye and the expedition. After he engaged the warp drive, he set the autopilot and spun around to face Chakotay. "Interesting ex-girlfriend, Commander. By the way, consider yourself under arrest."

.............................................................................................

Picard retrieved the two cups of tea from the replicator in his ready room. Beverly had brought her final report on the hybrid situation and, as had become their tradition, they were discussing it over a cup of tea. He handed her one of the cups before settling onto the sofa beside her. The expedition was still in orbit around Diseneye with tentative plans to leave at the end of the week. Even though there hadn't been any actual crises since the successful rescue of Lieutenant Dax, the magnitude of the decisions they'd been forced to weigh made the past few months seem much more arduous. The situation hadn't really changed substantively, it had merely undergone a change in venue but somehow it still seemed as though the sword of Damocles no longer hung quite so heavily over them.

"Lieutenant Vurel is doing fine. Using the neural caliper to suppress the hybrid was as successful as the test run on Dax and Odan," Beverly said.

"He was able to speak freely?" Picard asked. Their ability to communicate with the hybrid was a positive as long as it wasn't at the expense of another life. Before they began studying this individual, he wanted to be sure that Lieutenant Vurel was all right.

Beverly nodded. "Two telepaths monitored the interview, he has no fear of the hybrid. Even sharing a mind with it, he is certain that the hybrid is not malevolent; there is no darkness or malice toward us in its thoughts. He swears that he has not felt any manipulation or coercion from the hybrid at any time before, during or after the joining. With the neural caliper activated, he still refused to allow the hybrid to be removed."

"Would it be possible to leave the caliper on indefinitely?"

Pausing mid-sip, she eyed him warily. "That was a question I anticipated getting from Will, not you. I am not comfortable with the idea of forcing a living being into a sort of stasis just because people have a problem with where it came from. Heritage aside, it has done absolutely nothing to anybody here. It has posed no threat beyond the threat of the unknown. Forcing it into an artificially-induced coma for no reason is excessively punitive under the circumstances. Unless it acts in a manner harmful to Vurel or forces Vurel to act in a manner harmful to others, I can't condone such an action. Jean-Luc, please don't ask me to do that."

Picard inclined his head in a gesture of appeasement. Their encounter with the neural parasites back on Earth still influenced his feelings toward the creature. She was right and he probably wouldn't have actually taken that step anyway. He just couldn't seem to shake his knee-jerk reaction to the parasites and the fact that this hybrid was spawned by those things made it guilty by association in his mind. That wasn't fair, he knew that. It was on ongoing struggle to approach this hybrid with fairness and an open mind. "It was just a question."

"Lieutenant Vurel did agree to the use of the caliper for regular counseling sessions with Deanna," she noted.

"Did he give any indication of why he did this?"

Beverly chuckled lightly and gestured to the PADD on the coffee table in front of them. "According to the initial scans that Dr. Randall ran just after he assimilated the hybrid, he appears to have been in the early stages of Pon Farr. It would have been his first, so he didn't realize what was happening."

"That would explain the exceedingly unVulcan-like behavior."

Nodding, she continued. "At any rate, according to T'Mara and Selar, the joining seems to have resolved his blood fever."

Picard arched an eyebrow at her, the corners of his mouth quirking upward as he fought the urge to grin.

"I really don't want to go there," Beverly said, closing her eyes and sighing. "Although it goes a long way to explaining why he was so adamant about us not taking the hybrid from him. They've apparently bonded quite strongly, at least on Vurel's side. We're still getting to know the hybrid. From what our medical experts have been able to determine, the difference in how Vulcan brains work is mostly likely why Vurel is able to maintain primary control of his mind and body. Vulcan brains possess the ability to reroute information at will. There have been documented cases of Vulcans bypassing damaged areas of their brains to restore full functioning, essentially lobotomizing themselves when their cognition or emotional control is compromised due to a localized problem. Vurel is able to bypass the area of his brain that the hybrid is residing in, effectively isolating it. The hybrid can't take over physical control of the body but Vurel can voluntarily allow it if he so chooses."

With his primary concern addressed, he could allow himself to think about some of the other possibilities for this turn of events. "I can't say I appreciate the manner in which this happened, there seems to be a rash of Vash maneuvers going around lately. However, as long as Vurel is unharmed and in full control of his body, it seems we've been handed a means by which to communicate. Does the hybrid possess genetic memory?"

Taking a sip of her tea, her head wavered from side to side. "Yes and no; it has some knowledge of life as a Theoena. There is knowledge of planets and races throughout this region, however, it's extremely fragmented knowledge. Half of its genetic code possesses the knowledge and memories of the Theoena who spawned it but half of its genetic code is Trill. It has no knowledge of us, Dax or anything else beyond the bits and pieces of Theoena knowledge it inherited."

"A book with half the pages missing," he noted.

"Worse than that," she corrected him. "A book with every other page missing. The hybrid is somewhat confused and probably a little frightened right now. Fortunately, the Trill symbionts are not violent or aggressive by nature, so while it remembers the Theoena way of life, it seems to take more after its Trill heritage in that regard. Vurel is working on providing us with the information that he can glean from the hybrid's memories but it's going to be a work in progress. Once we're confident that Vurel's health is not compromised in any way by the presence of the hybrid, he'll be discharged back to the Enterprise. Dr. Pulaski can monitor his condition and that of the hybrid here. It'll be up to Deanna to certify him psychologically fit to return to duty."

Picard sighed heavily. "And then the problem is right back in my lap. Do I allow him to resume his duties and wander freely about the ship or have him confined to his quarters for the rest of his natural life?"

"We both know you wouldn't go to that extreme without a very compelling reason," she said.

The problem was that he wanted a sufficient reason to justify locking this hybrid away from the rest of the population. He knew that wouldn't be fair, he would have to decide on a plan for handling the joined Vulcan in a manner that met everyone's needs in the most reasonable and least restrictive manner possible. There was also another member of the Enterprise crew whom he needed to determine the best way to handle. "On that subject, you do realize that I cannot allow Chakotay's actions to go unpunished. If my own command staff defy my authority, this expedition will degenerate into anarchy."

"That's a bit dramatic, don't you think?" Beverly asked wryly. "All he really did was go AWOL and steal a shuttle. The fact is, if he'd told me what he wanted to do, I'd have let him use my yacht and you'd only have the charge of leaving without authorization."

He set his tea cup down on the coffee table. "He intentionally involved us in an alien dispute after I expressly told him that it was not our concern."

"He sent a message to some old friends regarding a situation that he thought they deserved to know about," she countered.

"And in the process, he put us in an untenable position that was completely avoidable--"

"Avoidable if Chakotay was willing to turn his back on an innocent, sentient, intelligent being unfairly imprisoned for what would probably have been a lifetime because it couldn't communicate," Beverly interjected, her voice a little more forceful than she'd intended. "Is that really the kind of officer you want serving under you out here? That certainly wasn't your expectation of your command staff back in the Alpha Quadrant, Jean-Luc. We have all been putting so much effort into this hybrid situation in an effort to ensure that we make the right decisions, the most fair and balanced decisions, regarding it. You were the one who said that we had to start with the assumption that it was sentient and act accordingly. Yet you were pretty quick to ignore another sentient life--from a race that the Federation has diplomatic relations with--who was caught in a similar situation with people who preferred to start with the assumption that it wasn't sentient even though Chakotay knew differently for a fact."

Picard tugged at his uniform jacket in frustration. It wasn't as easy to pull rank when he was talking to both a friend as well as a captain. He could pull rank as the fleet captain and just end this discussion, but that had never been his command style. "Things are different out here in the Delta Quadrant, Beverly. We can't very well go around sticking our noses in anywhere we please. We simply don't have the resources to manage situations long-term here in the Delta Quadrant. I would much rather make friends out here than enemies."

"Species 8472 were already our friends," she pointed out. When he would have argued the point, she waved him off. "No, Chakotay is your officer and I do understand that discipline and order are paramount here in the Delta Quadrant. He did what he believed was the right thing to do and knowing him, he expects you to hold him responsible. That's probably why he didn't tell me what he was going to do or ask to borrow my yacht, so that nobody else would be involved. I do understand that you need to punish him and I won't interfere in your decision, but I am asking you to be fair. Recent events have been stressful for all of us, just don't take your frustration out on Chakotay. He left the ship and the system without permission and took a shuttle without permission. Let the punishment fit the crime, that's all I ask."

"Well, I can't very well confine Chakotay to his quarters considering that he lives with you on the Pasteur. That wouldn't exactly be punishment," he commented jokingly.

Beverly returned his light-hearted grin and gave an impish shrug. "It can be if you want me to take care of that end of it, so to speak."

Chuckling, Picard just shook his head. He was grateful for the lifelong friendship that allowed them to disagree on any subject and still be comfortable with one another. "I apologize in advance, but I am going to have to deny you your husband for a time."

"I understand," she said. "Will he be permitted visitors?"

He nodded. "No conjugal visits, mind you, but otherwise fine." Heaving a long sigh, he continued in a tone of long-suffering exasperation. "If one more person on this expedition opts for the asking forgiveness instead of permission route, I'll--"

"Spank her?"

.............................................................................................

 

[Whoa Nellie]

Riker was the last one to take his seat at the table set up in his quarters. It was his turn to host their regular poker game and he was looking forward to a relaxing evening with his officers. He picked up the deck and began expertly shuffling the cards. "All right, let's start with some five card draw and, in consideration of all of the recent excitement, nothing wild."

Everyone around the table grinned in complete agreement with that. While he was waiting for Riker to deal out the cards, Madden had a couple pieces of ship's business to clear up. "We received confirmation and a response from the Theoenas to that message the hybrid sent them."

"What did they have to say?" Riker finished distributing the cards and waited to see what draws the others wanted to make before looking at his own cards. The hybrid had offered to send a message to the parasites asking them to leave it and the expedition alone. The message had been thoroughly analyzed and approved by all three captains before the Titan had transmitted it.

"They were disappointed but would respect its decision. They provided instructions on how to contact them if it changes its mind. I took the liberty of removing that last part before I forwarded the message to the Vulcan," Madden noted.

Riker nodded approvingly as he dealt out the three cards requested by his chief engineer. "Anyone want to bet that's not the last we hear from them?"

"No bet," Kronik growled, re-arranging his cards and putting one down to exchange for a new card.

"Who says Klingons are bad gamblers?" Riker joked, sliding one card across the table and retrieving the discarded one.

Kronik picked up the new card and grimaced. "My mate after last week's game."

Chuckling, Riker picked up his own hand and drew two new cards for himself. Kronik's mate, K'mae, was a formidable Klingon warrior in her own right. She was the only person on the ship to have bested Kronik in sparring matches to date. "What about the host that the Theoenas sent?"

"We left him on Diseneye for them to retrieve," his security chief replied. "While we were there we heard that the museum display Chakotay was so interested in had just vanished. Locals can't figure out how it managed to disappear right out of its enclosure."

Riker shook his head in mock dismay, the huge grin on his face a contrast to his words. "Don't you just hate when that happens?"

Dr. Selar held up two chips. "I believe that this is a suitable amount to begin the betting."

........

Ezri Dax accepted the cup of tea being handed to her. She didn't know exactly why she was here, she just felt like it was something she needed to do. Actually Dax felt a very understandable motivation to be here and Ezri could tell herself that she was just accommodating Dax, but truthfully she felt some strange sense of obligation as well. "Thank you for agreeing to see me, Lieutenant."

Vurel poured himself a cup of tea and sat down facing her. "Not at all, Lieutenant Dax, I am quite glad that you are here. I wished to speak with you on a personal matter, but I was unsure if you would be comfortable with such a discussion."

She was in the isolation room on the Pasteur where the Vulcan was being held while they conducted various tests and evaluations on both him and the hybrid. The room was identical to the one she'd spent several days in when the fetal hybrid was initially discovered. Under the circumstances and in large part due to the fact that Vurel was a member of the Enterprise crew, Deanna had taken over as the counselor assigned to his case. Ezri was here for personal reasons. She took a sip of her tea. "Mmm, I haven't had Vulcan tea since Emony, she loved Vulcan spice tea."

"I find it relaxing," Vurel said, taking a sip from his cup.

She cast about for something to say, anything. "This is a beautiful tea set."

Vurel inclined his head in acknowledgement of the compliment. "It is my own. Dr. T'Mara was kind enough to retrieve some personal items from my quarters for me."

Julian had told her that the Vulcan's readings indicated the early stages of Pon Farr. Dax knew that the first Pon Farr was typically when a Vulcan marriage ceremony occurred if it had not already happened. "Is Dr. T'mara your . . . "

"No," he said. "My betrothed chose to dissolve our bond after she was informed of recent events."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

Vurel gave a slight shrug. "It was a logical decision given the circumstances, I do not fault her decision. Dr. T'Mara is a physician assigned to the Pasteur. As a Vulcan healer, she was brought in to evaluate the effect of the joining on my Vulcan biochemistry."

For a counselor, Dax was having unexpected trouble making simple conversation. There were just so many questions, so many things she wanted to understand. "You're well, I hope."

"Yes, Lieutenant, quite well. Thank you."

"What about . . . I'm sorry, do you have a name? The p--hyb--symbiont, I mean," stammering about for the right words, she was briefly tempted to give up and leave.

Vurel took a drink of his tea before setting the cup and saucer on the table in front of him. Pressing his index fingers together, he closed his eyes for several seconds. "I'm sorry, this was a mistake."

"What was a mistake, the joining?"

He shook his head almost wearily. "No, this meeting. Vurel tried to tell me that it would be awkward--"

"No," she rushed to assure him, almost missing the fact that he referred to himself in third person. Obviously she was speaking directly with the hybrid now. "It's not . . . okay, well maybe it is a little awkward . . . odd awkward not bad awkward. I mean, you were just in my body and now you're pouring me tea. I don't really know what to say here. Please, whatever it was you wanted to talk to me about, go ahead."

Seeming to have an internal debate for a long moment, he fixed his gaze on the tea cup in front of him and said softly. "I do not have a name; that is what I wanted to ask you about."

"Me?"

"Vurel explained to me that names are given to offspring by their parents. My memories of those you know as Theoena do not include any proper names for myself or any of them. Vurel knows that Trill symbionts have a name that is unique to them but he is unsure how they are named. Since you are my Trill parent I thought perhaps it would be appropriate--"

Dax almost dropped the delicate tea cup. "You want me to name you?"

"Part of who I am comes from the Dax symbiont and I grew within your body," he explained. "According to what I have learned from Vurel, that would make you both my mother and father--to be honest he's not sure how gender works in the symbionts so we're not clear on the father part. Regardless of terminology, you are one of my parents. We know that the Theoena are a part of me as well, I have some of their knowledge. I do not understand it and based on the memories I have from them, I have no wish to seek their assistance. Vurel is trying to help me as best he can and I was hoping that you could also help with things that Vurel can't."

It saw her as a parent, someone to look to for answers. Dax felt that parental connection which had led her to officially request that status from the captain. To hear those words coming from the hybrid was more than a little disconcerting. She wasn't sure how Julian would feel about being a stepfather to a symbiont-parasite hybrid in the body of an adult Vulcan, but given her refusal to terminate the pregnancy she did, in essence, give it life. Now both Dax and the hybrid were looking to her to be responsible for that decision. Thinking back to Lela, the first Dax host, she recalled the challenges of learning to balance the personality of the symbiont and host. At least the Trill symbionts had the elder ones and the guardians in the Caves of Mak'ala to guide them in their formative years before they were joined with their first host. Even then, a symbiont's first host was carefully chosen, someone of calm and mature nature to help ease them into the joined existence. This hybrid had been thrust into life and joining without any preparation or understanding beyond the genetic memories of its parasite heritage. Maybe since it did see her as a parent, she could apply a bit of nurture to the questionable part of its nature.

After a long pause, watching her carefully set her own tea cup and saucer down, he spoke up. "I'm sorry, Vurel explained that you might be uncomfortable with this. I understand that my creation was forced upon you; you didn't even want me."

"That's not true," she argued. "It was my decision to . . . Dax wanted you. Granted you didn't come into being under the most ideal conditions, but Dax wanted you."

"It was your decision to not kill me," he finished the sentence she had stopped herself from completing.

Wishing she'd brought Julian or even Deanna with her for this meeting, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Yes, it was my decision to let you develop inside of my body and be born because it was so important to Dax. What those creatures did to me was awful but it wasn't your fault."

He sighed, nodding. "What they did was most unfortunate. I would apologize for them, but my knowledge of them suggests that they would not feel remorse for their actions. I do regret that I am a reminder of them, for you especially, Lieutenant Dax."

"Thank you, that's kind of you," she said. "Please, just call me Dax or Ezri. I do understand that you're looking for understanding of who you are and I would like to help. A name is very important and I'm honored that you want my input on your identity. Would it be all right if I gave it some thought? I'd like it to be special and significant to you."

"That would be acceptable, Dax," he smiled.

She returned his smile with a reassuring one of her own. "I realize that this must be overwhelming, having armed guards around, everybody asking you questions and scanning you. You need to understand that our encounter with the Theoenas wasn't positive; not to mention the legacy of fear they left in an entire system of people who are paranoid about any type of symbiotic life form because of their experience with the Theoenas. People here are scared of them and of you because they're not sure if you mean them harm."

He frowned. "That is why others of your kind wanted to kill me. Vurel told me that there were many of your people who thought--"

She cut him off. "There were also many who didn't. A lot of people here are curious about you and want to get to know you. I'm sure Vurel explained to you that we are explorers who seek out new life, new civilizations. You are the embodiment of that, a whole new life. Every sentient life we encounter has rights under our laws. I had the right to decide what medical treatments I did or didn't want regardless of what anyone else thought and now you have rights of your own as does Vurel. That was why they used the neural caliper, to make sure that Vurel could exercise his own rights freely. That's also why they haven't done anything to cause you harm even after they removed you from me. You haven't done anything to threaten anyone here and, as long as you don't threaten anyone, your rights will be respected as well."

He reached for his tea cup and drained it, pouring another cup for himself and re-filling her cup. "I have the same rights as Vurel?"

"Yes, and Dr. T'Mara, Dr. Randall, Captain Crusher and me, we all have the same rights. It gets a little complicated when you're dealing with a joined individual, but every sentient individual has the same rights. The Dax symbiont, the Odan symbiont and now you have the same rights as any other individual." She picked up her tea cup and inhaled deeply. He was right about the tea, even the aroma of the Vulcan spice tea was relaxing.

"I am confused by this. I know from my Theoena knowledge that humans are lesser creatures and yet I don't understand why or how. Vurel has great intelligence, he has a very complex mind with much knowledge and understanding. He has already taught me a great deal about life. How is the host a lesser being, especially if you give them the same rights as yourself."

Shaking her head, she kept her voice calm. He genuinely seemed confused by the cognitive paradox. "The Trill have existed as a symbiotic race, joined symbiont and human, for millenia. Nobody even remembers how the relationship began but the one thing every symbiont is mindful of is this: we need human hosts in order to live outside the caves, they don't need us. Joining is a gift of life that they give willingly to us and that is a gift to be cherished, never taken for granted. They benefit from our centuries of knowledge and acquired skills, symbionts are considered a very precious treasure among the Trill; so they do get something in exchange for this relationship. The thing is, what would even the Theoenas be able to accomplish without a host body to exist in?"

"That seems logical."

Dax suppressed a small grin. He was sounding very much like a Vulcan; Vurel was apparently having a strong influence on the hybrid's developing personality. "The bond between host and symbiont is special," she told him. "The way you speak of Vurel suggests that you admire him, you like him."

He nodded vigorously. "That is why I couldn't understand how he was a lesser creature and he didn't believe that he was."

"Because he's not and if you both respect one another, that bond will grow stronger than you can imagine," she promised. "You have to treat him with respect, it's his body just as he has to respect you for what you bring to him. If you had been spawned on Trill, you would have spent decades in the Caves of Mak'ala learning and developing your own identity before joining with another. Many of these questions would have been answered before your first host added to your existence. It must be a struggle to understand life as a part of another and as a separate individual at the same time."

"Caves of Mak'ala?" he asked. "Vurel is not very familiar with Trill culture. He knows about many different cultures and is quite an expert on Vulcan culture, but I wish to know more about the Trill world than he can tell me."

She'd need to talk to Deanna, get her guidance on how much involvement would be healthy for the hybrid's development, but helping him explore his Trill heritage couldn't be harmful. "The caves are where unjoined Trill symbionts live and spawn. We're tended to there by guardians, unjoined humans who possess the ability to communicate telepathically with symbionts independent of a host. If you like, I can write a holo-program to re-create the caves here so you can see them for yourself."

 

[Whoa Nellie]

...........

Chakotay stood up when Picard entered the room. Beverly had stopped by briefly a little while earlier. She hadn't known what action Picard was planning to take with him; she just wanted him to know that she understood why he did what he did and she wasn't upset with him. Not being able to touch her or even kiss her was the hardest part. He didn't regret his choice, but talking to his wife through a forcefield was difficult. The door slid shut behind the security officer as Picard dismissed him. He remained standing, respectfully waiting to hear what his captain had to say.

"The locals requested permission to scan our ships," Picard told him. "They're looking for their missing exhibit. Needless to say, they didn't find it and are still trying to figure out what happened to it."

Chakotay was relieved that they, along with Boothby and Archer, had managed to accomplish their mission without implicating the expedition. He did understand the delicate position that Captain Picard was in, but that didn't change what he saw as their obligation in the situation. Whatever the consequences, it had been worth it. He had to live with himself and every decision he made. As hard as the bunk here in the brig was, he'd sleep much easier on that than he would have been able to sleep in his own bed if he'd stood by and done nothing.

Picard gave his uniform jacket a tug. "You put me in a difficult position here, Commander. I understand why you took the actions that you did and you showed remarkable restraint in not going directly after the 8472 in that zoo yourself in spite of my decision. While I may admire the principles behind your actions, I cannot condone them. You deliberately contacted Species 8472 in order to force me into a decision that you knew I was loathe to make."

Chakotay started to say something and abruptly stopped himself. "Permission to speak, Captain?"

"Granted."

"Truthfully, even if that individual were a member of a race Voyager had never met, if I knew it was sentient and being kept in a cage for amusement, I don't know that I could have turned my back on it. What if it had been a member of a humanoid race being kept in a cage by a non-humanoid race as an 'interesting specimen'? Could you have walked away from that simply because it was inconvenient to involve ourselves in an alien dispute?" he challenged Picard.

Picard eyed him with displeasure. "That is not the point, Commander."

Chakotay nodded in acknowledgment. "Fine, here is my point. Voyager made her share of enemies out here, the Kazon, the Vaadwaur, the Devore. We also made our share of friends, some of whom came through for us when we needed help out here. Those friendships must be respected, at least I have to respect the friendships that Voyager forged out here. I resigned my commission once before when I was forced to choose between my conscience and this uniform. If you're here to ask me to make you a promise that I won't do anything like this again--"

"I'm not," Picard assured him. "Obviously you'll do what you think is right regardless of any abstract oath you've given. I do ask that you give me a chance to support your position on a matter and argue your case with me face-to-face rather than simply going behind my back the way you did. I don't know what I would have said if you'd suggested contacting Species 8472 before, I just wish you would have given me the chance. Off the record, I admire the strength of your principles and your loyalty to your friends. On the record, I cannot and will not tolerate any of my crew, much less my command staff, going off and doing whatever they please in this manner."

"Understood, Captain."

"For the unauthorized use of a shuttle, you are sentenced to two weeks confinement in the brig. For leaving the ship without authorization, neglecting your duties here on the Enterprise, you will work extra duty shifts. Specifically, you will work Gamma bridge duty shifts in addition to your regular duty shifts for thirty days after your time in the brig. If you feel this is unfair, you have the right to request a hearing--"

Chakotay waved off the rest of what Picard was saying. Under similar conditions, Kathryn had sentenced Tom Paris to thirty days in the brig and stripped him of his rank. Two weeks in the brig and a month of Gamma shift bridge duty was less than he'd been expecting. "It's more than fair."


"To be honest, I'll also be saddling you with the hybrid situation," Picard said. "The Vulcan whom the hybrid joined with is a lieutenant in your department, a linguist by the name of Vurel. I'll have a full copy of Beverly's report made available to you. I have decided that once he has been medically cleared and certified psychologically fit, he will be permitted to return to his duties. He will be required to wear a cortical monitor for a while as a precaution, but there will be no other restrictions on his activities. Considering Kathryn's propensity for collecting strays out here in the Delta Quadrant, I'm confident that you will be more than capable of handling the responsibility for overseeing the young man and the hybrid. I have no idea how she managed to keep her sanity out here in the Delta Quadrant for seven long years."

While Chakotay had wondered on more than one occasion how any of them kept their sanity, there were also the memories of good times the Voyager crew had shared out here. Some of those 'strays' turned out to be valuable assets and good friends like Neelix and Seven of Nine. He offered Picard his perspective. "She had a good crew behind her, as do you."

**FINIS**