It had been three days since she last had a decent start to her morning.  One night with poor sleep, whether she’d known it or not, was one thing.  Three nights in a row had simply become exhausting. Her head was pounding and she knew she’d already had too much caffeine today. That sick feeling in the pit of her stomach told her as much, but she sipped from the still warm mug regardless.  It was the only way she was going to get through the stack of reports covering her desk. 

And God help Chakotay if he suggested the caffeine was probably contributing to her not sleeping well. She doubted he would.  The man had better preservation instincts than that. Much like the rest of her staff, all of whom had made themselves extremely scarce during the afternoon.  Her poor assistant had been left to fare on his own against her bad mood.  When she’d stormed out an hour earlier to dump PADDs off for him to deliver, she’d thought the poor man had been about to faint he’d gone so pale.  He’d managed to squeeze five “yes ma’am’s” into a two minute conversation. If she hadn’t been so irritated at life in general, she would’ve been amused. 

Rubbing a hand across the back of her neck, she tried to pinpoint the source of her displeasure.  She’d finished all of her physical therapy sessions, she didn’t have any lingering aches or pains, all of her department’s projects were proceeding apace, and even Voyager’s refit was moving along on schedule.  No one was stressing about any of her work and she wasn’t frantically rushing to meet any deadlines.  Voyager’s former crew had all checked in with an overwhelming eighty percent recommitting to her future voyages. Her mother and sister were doing well, happy, healthy, and hardy as ever.  And she was sleeping, or not sleeping as the case seemed to be, next to the love of her life every night. 

So what was she so angry about?

Her comm. console pinged with an incoming priority message.  If the console had been human, it would have melted under her glare. Instead, the indicator flashed with the harsh orange staccato she’d come to despise. Chief Presidential Aide Marcek had sent her another message. Granted, the orange priority indicator could be any one of a number of high ranking officials wishing to speak with her, but it wasn’t.  It was him. She knew it without having to even open the message. 

She took a deep breath and tried to center herself to a place of calm before reading the communiqué.  When the console pinged again, her calm was shattered and she mashed the control with her thumb to open the message.  Marcek’s face appeared on the screen and without a word of greeting he began reciting the rules of etiquette for speaking with the president and any of her dignitary guests. 

Kathryn felt her eyelid twitch and she ground her teeth together. At the five minute mark, she’d gone completely deaf to the man’s officious voice. The message was still playing but she thumbed it off and with a remarkable show of restraint managed to not throw a PADD across the room. She tossed it onto the coffee table instead and began to pace, shaking out her hands, and trying to roll the stress out of her neck and shoulders. 

The comm. console pinged with an incoming call. Her hand twitched at her side, itching for a phaser.  “Computer,” she said through gritted teeth.  “Activate call.  Audio only.”

“Admiral Janeway.” 

Kathryn paused, frowning towards the console.  She hadn’t been expecting a woman to call.  She’d been expecting Marcek. “Go ahead.”

“I’m calling from Chief Presidential Aide Marcek’s office. It is requested that you finish viewing the message you were sent and acknowledge receipt and understanding of the etiquette expected of you,” the woman’s voice continued, simultaneously freezing Kathryn to the spot while making her blood boil.  “If you are unable to access the message for confirmation, you are hereby requested to appear at Chief Marcek’s office at -”

“Tell him I’ll be right there!” Kathryn said, cutting off anything further the woman had to say.  “Computer disconnect.”  She grabbed her uniform jacket from the back of the chair, threw it on, and checked her appearance in the mirror.  “It’s past time I had a nice personal chat with Chief Presidential Aide Marcek.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chakotay looked up from the vegetables he was dicing as Kathryn glided into the kitchen. He raised his eyebrows when she lifted his glass of wine and took a deep drink from it.  “You look relaxed.”

She moved around behind him, one hand still holding the wine glass as her other snaked over his shoulders. “I am.”

He turned around, watching her as she moved further into the kitchen.  “That’s a pleasant surprise.  You looked like you were ready to spit nails when I talked to you earlier.”

Kathryn topped off the glass’s contents from the open bottle and then leaned back against the counter, cradling the glass in front of her. “I had a very productive afternoon.”

“Oh?” He wiped his hands off on a towel and crossed his arms over his chest.  “What did you do?”

She grinned over the wine glass like the cat that had caught the canary.  “I went over to Chief Marcek’s office and read him the riot act.”

Chakotay’s mouth dropped open. “You didn’t.”

“Oh, I most certainly did.” She took another sip of wine.  “I told him in no uncertain terms that since I have managed to conduct over fifty first contacts across the entire span of the Delta Quadrant, I am quite capable of shaking the President’s hand and receiving an award from her without embarrassing the entirety of Starfleet or endangering the security of the Federation.”

Chakotay burst out laughing. “And?” he asked when he was able. “What else did you say?”

“You think I had more to say?” she asked, grinning more broadly.

He nodded, closing the distance between them, grinning himself as he plucked the wine glass from her hand.  “I know you had more to say.”

She shrugged. “I may have mentioned that if he didn’t leave me alone that he could take the President’s medal and shove it where-”

Chakotay kissed her, cutting off what he was sure would’ve been something Tom Paris would’ve paid good latinum to hear. After a moment, he leaned back from her, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “I’m surprised I didn’t receive a call telling me to come pick you up from security.”

She draped her arms over his shoulders.  “Actually, for a Vulcan, he took my emotional outburst quite well.”

“Uh huh,” he said, dropping his hands to her hips so they were swaying slightly together. “What did he have to say?”

“He invited me into his office so we could talk a bit more privately.  I think his staff was quite taken aback at my sudden appearance in their midst,” she admitted.

Chakotay laughed again and shook his head.  “I bet they were.  So then what happened?”

“He and I talked.”

Chakotay waited for a minute.  “And?”

She dropped her hands down from his shoulders, frowning slightly. “And we…settled things.”

“Settled things?”

She nodded.

“How?”

“We are both adults, Chakotay,” she said. “I can even manage on occasion to act like an officer.”

“On occasion,” he repeated, earning a smack on his arm. “So, he isn’t going to keep pestering you with communiqués?”

“Well,” she pulled back, reaching for the wine glass on the counter, “apparently, he still has to send me some messages, keep me focused on the task.”  She sipped the drink. “But he won’t send as many.”

He plucked the wine glass from her hand. “And that’s enough for you?”

“It’s a start, at least.” Kathryn tried snagging the glass back from him. “Are you stealing my wine?”

“You stole it from me.” He laughed as he moved back to his vegetables. “Get your own. You know where the glasses are.”

Mertek,” she muttered, opening the cabinet.

“Traitor? It’s my glass.” He picked up his cutting knife. “And since when do you speak Bajoran?”

“I don’t,” she said, upending the wine bottle and barely filling the bottom of her glass.

“But you just called me-”

“Just because I know a word or two doesn’t mean I know the language, Chakotay,” she said, walking past him and out of the kitchen. “I’m going to change out of this uniform. Be back down in a few.”

“Take your time,” he called after her. “Dinner won’t be ready for a half hour.”

He heard her soft laughter in response and shook his head.  She was so relaxed that maybe he’d actually be able to get some decent sleep tonight. The way she’d been tossing and turning lately had kept them both awake for more hours than they’d like. He reached for an onion and finally noticed what she’d been laughing about as she’d left. The only remaining glass of wine on the counter was almost empty.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The faint blue lights of the transporter dissipated and Chakotay nodded his greeting at the ensign manning the controls.

“Welcome aboard, Commander,” she said, locking down the console.  “If you’ll come with me, Doctor Crusher is expecting you.”

The corridors were deserted as they moved between decks, and it still caught Chakotay off guard on occasion to remember that they were home and the availability of ships, crewmen, and supplies bordered on being overabundant. Ships could run on skeleton crews inbetween missions not because they had to but because there was no reason not to. Given the Enterprise’s current inaction, he considered himself fortunate that Doctor Crusher was working at all.

The ensign escorted him as far as the doors and he walked into the spacious sickbay.  His eyes strayed to the center biobed where he’d first seen Kathryn after they’d located her and Picard on the moon.  The Enterprise’s medical team had been swarming around her unconscious and battered body while Counselor Troi had gently but firmly guided him out of their way. 

He heard footsteps and looked up to see Beverly Crusher approaching.  She gave him a warm smile. “Commander, it’s good to see you again.” 

“Thank you for seeing me, Doctor,” he said, turning his back to the bed, “and please, you can still call me Chakotay.”

“Chakotay,” she said, inclining her head slightly. They had carried on more than one conversation at Starfleet Medical as they’d waited for Kathryn to recover. His knowledge of Janeway’s medical history had been sadly impressive.  His devotion to her had made Beverly like him all the more.  She indicated her office. “Shall we sit down?”

“I’m surprised you aren’t planetside,” he commented, following her.

“I had a few experiments running that I wanted to finish up before transporting down,” she admitted.  “Would you care for some tea?”

“Thank you.” He accepted the warm beverage and took a seat opposite her with her desk between them, trying the tea once he was seated. “This is a lovely blend.”

“Thank you, it was one of my Nana’s recipes,” she said, clearing a few PADDs off to one side of her desk. “How is Admiral Janeway doing?”

He took another sip of tea, giving himself an extra moment before answering.  “She completed her physical therapy appointments a week ago.  She was definitely glad to be done with those.”

“Most people are,” Beverly agreed easily. “But that doesn’t really answer the question.”

“She’s all right.” Chakotay leaned forward, placing the cup on the desk, “I was wondering though if you’ve noticed any…odd behavior with Captain Picard?”

It wasn’t what she’d been expecting, and it was her turn to hesitate.  “What do you mean by odd?”

“Has he done anything out of the ordinary? Maybe said something that you thought was strange?” he asked.  “Has he been different at all?”

“You mean since the accident?”She clarified.

He nodded. 

“Has Admiral Janeway been different since the accident?”

Chakotay leaned back in his seat away from her. “No. Not really.”

Crusher propped one elbow on top of her desk.  “But you have some concerns.”

He tried staring her down but gave up quickly with a frustrated sigh.  “It’s probably nothing.”

“But?”

“But I have some concerns,” he admitted.

She nodded.  “Okay, like what?”

He exhaled heavily.  “When they were beamed up from the crash site, was there anything suspicious about their injuries?”

“Suspicious?” He’d managed to surprise her again.  “Nothing I noted at the time,” she said then frowned, “but there was one thing. It wasn’t suspicious just odd, really.”

“What?” he asked, straightening in his chair.

“The crush injury to the admiral’s pelvic area,” she said.  “It was a fresh break compared to their other injuries, only a few hours old, but given the state of the shuttle’s wreckage it wasn’t completely surprising.  It’s likely structural damage occurred during the crash and the bulkhead finally collapsed under the stress.” She shrugged. “She was incredibly fortunate.”

“Why do you say that?”

“An injury like that is life threatening.  If it had occurred at the time of the crash, the admiral would probably not have survived the three days until we found them.”

“And you’re sure they were unconscious the entire time?”

“You believe they weren’t?”

“I’m not...there’s been a few moments…” he hesitated again, clearly frustrated. “She has…unguarded moments when I’ve noticed…incongruous behavior.”

“Incongruous behavior?” she repeated, and then ducked her head until she got her smile under control.  She was still grinning when she looked up at him but it was much softer.  “Chakotay, may I be blunt?”

He appeared reluctant but nodded.

She leaned forward on her desk. “This conversation will be a lot easier if you and I both admit that we are sleeping with our captains.”

For the briefest of moments, he looked like a little boy with his hand caught in the cookie jar.  Then the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes tightened and a flush crept into his cheeks as he ducked his head, hiding his impossible dimples from her sight.  He tugged on his earlobe as the first chuckle escaped his chest and he finally looked up. “Actually, she’s an admiral.”

Beverly laughed, grateful he wasn’t going to try and deny it.  It had been obvious to every member of the hospital staff, but doctors and nurses were very accustomed to pretending they didn’t see all the very personal moments of their patients’ lives.  It also simply wasn’t something one asked an admiral.

“Is it that obvious?” he asked.

She shrugged, not willing to be the one to shatter his delusion.  She moved the conversation back to the subject at hand. “So these unguarded moments of the admiral’s?”

The amusement quickly drained from his expression. He sighed, “She’s having nightmares, and more than once she’s said Picard’s name.”

“That’s not entirely unexpected.  They survived a traumatic event. Even if she doesn’t remember her time in the wreckage, she could have been in and out consciousness,” she reasoned.

“And this is her subconscious’ way of dealing with it?” He nodded. “I tried telling myself that, but there’s been urgency in her voice when she says his name. It’s almost like she’s afraid for him.”

“Maybe she was in a position that she could see him, but couldn’t reach him.” Beverly frowned.  “Has she said anything else?”

Chakotay shook his head.  “Not that I’ve been able to understand.”

 “Hmmm.” She pulled up Janeway’s medical record, skimming through it. “Has there been anything else?”

He looked distinctly uncomfortable. “She hasn’t been sleeping well so she’s been a bit…short-tempered lately.”

“Trouble in paradise?” she asked, giving him a half smile to assure him she was teasing.

“It’s not just me,” he said. “Her entire staff at Headquarters is avoiding her. One minute she’s fine and the next she’s biting someone’s head off.”

“That sounds more like mood swings then simple frustration. And this isn’t usual for her?”

“No. When Kathryn gets stressed out and lives on a diet of caffeine and no sleep, she gets testy and stays that way until she crashes. There are no ups and downs,” he explained. “Besides, there’s nothing going on right now that would have her stressed out.”

“That you know of,” Beverly suggested.

He nodded in acknowledgment of her point. “So, anyway, that’s why I wanted to ask about Captain Picard. See if you or your staff has noticed anything out of the ordinary with him.”

Beverly wrapped her hands around her own mug of tea, noticing that all the warmth had already drained away. “Well, I can’t really say. I haven’t seen him in almost two weeks.” She held up a hand at Chakotay’s look of concern. “He’s fine. He’s just taking vacation down at his family’s vineyard in France.  I’m supposed to join him in a few days.”

“I don’t suppose you could be convinced to join him a few days earlier?”

“I might,” Beverly admitted, smiling briefly. “In the meantime, keep an eye on Admiral Janeway, and if anything gets worse, contact me.  This may just be her system working through a traumatic event and she needs time.”

“I hope it is,” he said, getting to his feet. “Give Captain Picard my regards.”

Beverly stood as well walking with him out of her office. “I would, but I think we should probably keep this between us for now.  Captains and admirals don’t like being coddled.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Janeway awoke to the taste of blood in her mouth.  She swallowed thickly, her stomach lurching as the coppery taste slid down her throat. Her face felt swollen, as if she’d taken a hard hit to the jaw, but the first pain she felt was her shoulder, a throbbing pulse that echoed its beat inside her skull. Something was tingling, itching on her forehead and she wanted to wipe it away. 

She couldn’t lift her hand. She blinked open her eyes and found herself staring up at a ceiling of jagged rock. She blinked again, trying to focus but the rock didn’t change. Lifting her head, she could see why she couldn’t move her hand – it was restrained.  Both hands were as well as her feet when she tried to move her legs.  A wide band ran across the tops of her legs and there was another over her ribs that bit into sore muscle as she tried to pull free. The pain in her shoulder twisted and spiked, eliciting a cry of pain from her.

“By all means, Admiral, continue struggling,” a voice from her right said. “You’ll only cause yourself more pain.”

She turned to see who was taunting her. “Jean-Luc?”

Picard wasn’t the one taunting her. He was strapped down to a table in similar fashion. She could see a metallic band with lights encircling his forehead. A dark figure she couldn’t quite make out stood on his far side. 

“Who are you?” she growled, ignoring the hitch in her dry throat. “What do you want?”

She thought she heard a chuckle as the figure bent over Picard. She heard the hiss of an injection and saw the muscles in Picard’s neck strain as he arched against his restraints.

“What the hell are you doing? Leave him alone!” she yelled as Picard jerked again. “Picard!”

The dark figure moved up to the head of the table, his shadowy hands manipulating the band covering Picard’s head.  A series of lights moved along the band from right to left and Picard relaxed against his restraints. The figure bent down close to Picard’s ear and began speaking too softly for Janeway to hear.

“Jean-Luc, don’t listen to him!” she tried.

The low chuckle sounded again and the figure straightened away from Picard, making another adjustment to the headband, slowing the lights.  Then it turned its attention towards Janeway.  Her breath caught in her throat as it moved closer. There was nothing but a shadow descending towards her, blotting out all of the light.

Behind the darkness, Picard began to scream.

She lashed out; forgetting the pain in her shoulder, ignoring the restraints that held her down, she threw herself backwards. The restraints slipped and she fell from the table; the darkness followed her down. She began throwing punches and kicking her feet loose.  Pain shot through her knuckles as she made contact but she barely felt it.  All she felt was triumphant when she heard the grunt of pain she caused.  Then all the air was crushed from her lungs as she was smothered by a heavy mass pinning her down.  She growled in frustration as her arms were pinned down despite her muscles burning with her effort to break free. 

“KATHRYN!!”

She froze; she knew that voice.  She’d only ever heard it yell her name like that once before but she knew it all the same. She opened her eyes to find Chakotay looming over her, his face inches away from hers, his hair tousled from sleep, and his lip cracked and bleeding.  She blinked, feeling his weight pinning her down, his strong hands encircling her wrists. They were both breathing heavily, staring at each other. 

“Kathryn?” he asked, and she felt his grip on her arms loosen.

She gave him a quick nod and felt him release her arms completely as he sat up, still straddling her but taking his weight on his knees.  She looked around, seeing only the side of the bed and the darkened walls of their bedroom, a spilled glass of water on the carpet beside her that had toppled from her nightstand.  She swallowed, “Chakotay, why are we on the floor?”

He laughed nervously, running a hand through his hair as he moved off of her completely.  He leaned back against the side of the bed and took a deep breath.  Her heart was still pounding in her chest as she pushed up to her elbows. “Chakotay?”

“You were having a nightmare, Kathryn.”

“Another one?” she asked, finally sitting all the way up.  She tried to remember, but it was all fading away so fast.  All she could remember was being scared. 

He was watching her.  “You don’t remember, do you?”

She shook her head, bringing her knees up to her chest.  She could feel the effects of adrenalin bleeding off, leaving her shaky and spent. “I just...” she tucked her hair back behind her ear and realized her hand was hurting. She looked at it in the dim light of the bedroom, flexing it, and she could see a smear on one of her knuckles.  She remembered his lip bleeding. 

She jerked her head up, peering at him across the small space between them.  “Did I hit you?”

He ran a thumb over the split skin, wiping away a bead of blood. “There’s nothing wrong with your right hook.” He didn’t move as she leaned in, examining the damage. “Do you know who you were swinging for?”

Kathryn frowned, sitting back on her heels. “No.” She closed her eyes, trying to visualize, something, anything that had set her heart racing, but there was nothing.  “I’m so sorry, Chakotay.”

He sighed. “Kathryn, I know you don’t want to hear this-” He caught her by the wrist as she pushed up to her feet, clearly intending to leave. “This isn’t normal. You need to go to Medical.”

She didn’t immediately pull away from him, but she didn’t sit back down either. “I’ll be all right, Chakotay.”

He got to his feet, keeping her hand in his. “Please,” he pleaded, “think about it.”

“Just let me get through this weekend,” she said. “I’ve got rehearsals for the president’s ceremony on Friday and then the event on Saturday.  After that, things will slow down.” She stepped in closer to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Maybe then we can take a few days off and just relax.  After that, if I’m still having nightmares, I promise I’ll go to Medical.”

He kissed the top of her head before resting his chin on it. “It’s three o’clock in the morning. Today is Friday.” He heard her groan into his chest and chuckled. “Think you can get back to sleep?”

She nodded and they turned as one back towards the bed. Lying once again under the covers, she fell asleep almost instantly.  But he stayed awake, staring up at the ceiling, listening to her soft breathing at his side.  If she wouldn’t go to Medical, then he would.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We have to stop meeting like this,” Beverly said, welcoming Chakotay into her sickbay. She indicated the biobed. “Take a seat.”

She’d met him in the transporter room and immediately insisted Chakotay let her treat his swollen lip.  “Believe me, Doctor.  I’ve had worse.”

“I’m sure you have, but there’s no reason to suffer through it when there’s perfectly good medical equipment here to treat you with.” She scanned him with the tricorder. “Next time you’re in the middle of a red alert and you want to go without treatment, be my guest.”

He sat still and let her use the regenerator, healing the split lip and reducing the swelling.  He moved his jaw around and stretched his face muscles as soon as she was done earning himself a look of amusement.  “Thank you, Doctor.”

“Hmm.  Do I dare ask how you came by this injury?” she asked, storing the equipment back on its proper shelves. 

“You said to contact you if things got worse.” He gestured to his face. “I think this qualifies.”

“Admiral Janeway hit you?”

“To be fair, I don’t think I was her intended target,” he said, sliding off the bed onto his feet. “She was having a pretty bad nightmare.”

Understanding dawned in the doctor’s eyes. “I see. Do you know who she was swinging for?”

He shook his head. “She says she doesn’t remember anything from the dreams.”

She gestured for him to follow her into her office.  She secured the space and settled behind her desk before speaking.  “Jean-Luc isn’t sleeping well either.” She held up a hand to forestall his interruption.  “He isn’t swinging for the fences like the admiral apparently is, but he didn’t sleep for more than a couple of hours each night I was with him.”

“Did you notice anything odd with him?” Chakotay asked.

“Yes. He was muttering in his sleep,” she said.  “At first, I couldn’t understand him at all and thought it was just nonsense, but then he kept repeating a single phrase.  I still don’t know what it means or even what language it is.”

“What did he say?”

“Pok Temp Far Botany.”

Chakotay felt his eye twitch and his gut clenched in cold fear and memory.  It was not a phrase he had ever wanted to hear again.  He still had nightmare visions of Kathryn dead on the floor of her ready room, a phaser blast burned through her chest. 

“Chakotay?”  Crusher asked. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

He swallowed thickly.  “Pagh’tem’far, B’tanay.

A chill ran down her back at his chilling intonation. “You know what it means.”

He nodded. “It’s a time of awakening. The mind awakens and focuses on its task.”

“What task?”

“Whatever task has been assigned.” He got to his feet, running a hand over his chin as he worked through the possibilities. The ramifications and possibilities of Teero resurrecting himself in the Alpha Quadrant made a cold sweat break out on the back of his neck. He glanced at Crusher, knowing he needed to try and explain. “On Voyager, we had an incident involving mind control and the phrase “Pagh’tem’far, B’tanay”. Under the direction of this control, the former Maquis members of the crew staged a mutiny.  Kathryn almost lost her life in the process.”

“How?”

“A Bajoran vedek and Maquis fanatic by the name of Teero Anaydis had captured Voyager’s chief of security several years earlier and performed mind control experiments on him.  Teero programmed Tuvok to respond to the command pagh’tem’far, b’tanay.  Years later, in the Delta Quadrant, Tuvok received a message from Teero and began carrying out Teero’s instructions.”

“And his instructions were to take over Voyager?”  Crusher asked.

“At that point, we were the only real source of Maquis left in the universe.  We were a prime resource for a fanatic like Teero,” Chakotay said. “Had he succeeded, he would’ve been in control and directing the actions of a fully functional Starfleet vessel.”

“To what end?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know, but it wouldn’t have been anything good. He could’ve used us to make enemies against the Federation across the entire Delta Quadrant.”

“And upon your return, you would’ve been unknowingly welcomed home with open arms,” Crusher added.

“We could’ve flown Voyager straight into Starfleet Headquarters before anyone ever suspected a thing.”

Crusher sat back in her chair. “We’re making a very large assumption here. I mean, we have nothing to connect the somewhat aberrant behavior of two Starfleet officers to mind control by some heretofore unheard of vedek.”

“You’re right,” he agreed grudgingly. “But all the pieces fit. They were missing for three days in a section of space not known to be dense to sensors.  Neither of them remembers their time on the planet. Kathryn has displayed signs of post traumatic stress. Captain Picard has said the exact phrase Teero used before.”

“That’s all circumstantial. We need proof,” she insisted. “Were there any medical anomalies? Something we could identify currently in Admiral Janeway or Jean-Luc?”

“Nothing showed up on scans. The programming was initiated on individuals through a forceful mind meld. It was intrusive enough that it sent people into comas for twenty to thirty hours.” he explained. “Our doctor was completely puzzled by not only the reason for the comas but also the miraculous recovery. It wasn’t until afterwards that we knew mind melds had been involved.” He looked up.  “You could review the medical histories and know better than I would if there’s anything similar though.”

She nodded, making a mental note to herself. “How did your people recover?  How did you defeat the mind control?”

“Tuvok was able to break free of it somehow. He then had to perform a secondary mind meld on anyone affected,” he explained. “Tuvok was programmed by Teero by some other method, but he was able to force that programming onto everyone else through the mind melds. Luckily, he was also able to remove it.”

“I suggest you contact him.  We may need his help.” She started pulling up records on her computer.  “In the meantime, if we work on the assumption that Teero is behind this, we need to figure out why.”

“That’s easy,” Chakotay said darkly. “Kathryn and Captain Picard will both have direct access tomorrow to one of the people Teero would hold most accountable for the destruction of the Maquis.”

Crusher felt the blood drain from her face.  “The President of the Federation.”

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