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 The shuttle's deck rocked slightly from the turbulence of the area.  The biosphere of Zeta Indi III was acting up; their shuttle was passing over a storm center that originated above the equatorial ocean zone.  The Delta Flyer swayed gently, in a reassuring fashion, and Kathryn Janeway felt in danger of falling asleep at her console.  She leaned against the panel on her elbows, her eyes slowly following the steady blinking pattern of the yellow touch pads.
 Her reflection shone brightly in the black panel, and she could see herself clearly falling asleep.
 A bump in the ride jostled her back to full consciousness, and she leaned her head back in the chair.  From behind her, she felt a tap on the shoulder.  Turning her head slowly, she found herself gazing tiredly at the bushy-haired Talaxian that was standing next to her chair, holding a shiny silver tray.
 "Can I interest you in a snack, Captain?"
 Janeway sighed quietly, thinking about it.  "Yes, Neelix," she said, taking a handful of the "snack", not being quite sure what it was.  "Thank you."  With that, she took a small, nibbling bite, and found herself actually liking it.  She looked up at him, and, as though somehow telepathic, he answered.
 "It's a new recipe of mine," he explained.  "It's sort of like… guacamole, only made with various Delta Quadrant herbs and vegetables, but prepared much the same way."
 "It's delicious, Neelix," she commended, patting him lightly on the shoulder.
 "Why, thank you, Captain!" he squealed with delight.  He moved up to the pilot's chair, where B'Elanna Torres sat, gracefully pulling the shuttle in and out of the turbulent eddies that swirled through the atmosphere.  "Would you like some, Lieutenant?" he asked.
 "No thanks, I have a shuttle to fly, and this atmosphere isn't helping much!"
 "How much farther, B'Elanna?"
 Torres shook her head, "Five, six more minutes.  We're almost there."  Another bump, which Torres hastily apologized for and the shuttle burst through the upper cloud layer and into open space.  Whisper trails of cloud clung to it, and dissipated as the Delta Flyer gained more and more distance from the planet.  "And, there we go."
 "Great job, Lieutenant," Neelix cheered.  "Captain, I'm going to make another rounds of the cargo bay and catalogue what we found."
 "Double check the inventory, Mr. Neelix," Janeway said.  Neelix nodded, and the Talaxian disappeared into the Flyer's lower deck.  She turned her attention back to Torres, and ordered, "Set a course back to the Voyager, maximum warp."
 "Aye, Captain," Torres replied.  "Computer ETA is 3 hours at maximum warp.  Is that acceptable?"
 "Of course," Janeway replied.  "It gives me a chance to nap."
 "Mm, I noticed you dozing," Torres said.  "I didn't want to wake you, but that eddy curved away from me faster than the sensors could track it.  This ship, though, it's good.  Tom should get a lot of kudos."
 "Yes, it's an ingenious design," Janeway commented.  "And the Borg weaponry… Seven really outdid herself.  Not only is this ship fast and maneuverable, it's armed to the teeth!"
 The Flyer continued on its three-hour journey toward the Voyager.  Janeway yawned, and laid her head back on the headrest of the chair.  She closed her eyes, and dozed softly.  Torres chuckled quietly, and then swiveled her chair back towards the forward viewports.

 ***********************************
 "Voyager to Delta Flyer, come in," Tuvok's voice came over the cockpit speakers.
 "Delta Flyer here," Torres replied.  "Good to hear your voice, Commander."
 There was a slight pause.  "Pilot, identify yourself."
 Torres frowned.  She turned her chair to look at Janeway, who was sitting up straight now, interest piqued.  She mouthed what the hell, and turned back to the console.  "Tuvok, it's me, B'Elanna."
 "Delta Flyer, where is Captain Janeway?"
 Janeway stood, leaning against the back of Torres' chair.  "I'm here, Tuvok, what's going on?"
 "Captain, are you all right?"
 "I'm fine, Tuvok.  Why?"
 "Who is piloting your vessel?"
 "B'Elanna Torres, of course," Janeway said.  "Why do you ask?  Commander, answer me."
 Another annoying pause, during which Janeway's fright and frustration grew triple-fold.  She turned down to Torres, and said, "Hold this position for now, shields up."
 "Captain, we don't stand a chance against the Voyager," Torres replied.  "Even with the Borg enhancements."
 "That's where you're wrong, B'Elanna," said Janeway.  "You are the Chief Engineer.  You know more ways to disable that ship remotely than the computer probably does.  I'm sure you can match our phaser frequencies to the shield nutations."
 "You're right," Torres said.  "But are you really going to try and fight?  That's our ship!"
 Janeway shook her head.  "Something's wrong, though.  Tuvok obviously doesn't recognize you.  Get me visual contact."
 Torres nodded, and punched in a new set of commands into the main console.  The monitor above her head to the right blinked on, and an image of the Voyager's bridge came on.  Tuvok was not at his console, but stood behind the helm, where Janeway would normally be when on the bridge, talking to another vessel.  Tom Paris was seated at the helm, of course, looking up at the image of Janeway on the viewscreen.  At the Ops console, stood Harry Kim.  All three of them had odd looks on their faces when they saw B'Elanna on the screen.  Torres felt slightly disgusted, and frightened.
 These were her friends, one of them her lover, and they obviously had no clue who she was.
 "Commander, open the docking bay," Janeway ordered sternly.
 "Negative, Captain. There appears to be an intruder aboard your vessel," Tuvok said.  "Lower your shields, and we'll beam her into custody."
 "You will do no such thing," Janeway said.  "This is a member of my crew, and I won't have her treated like this."
 Kim spoke up.  "Wait, I recognize her!" he said, moving around his console to stand near the rail to the upper deck of the bridge.  "She's one of the Maquis!  We were held hostage in that Ocampa hospital five years ago."
Torres felt a hot flash of relief burn through her, which was quickly replaced by anger.  What kind of joke were they trying to play here?  "Starfleet, you've got a lot of explaining to do," she said with a slight chuckle in her tone.
"She's down in the brig with the rest of them," Kim finished.  Torres exploded with open rage.
"What the hell are you talking about!  Harry!  Tom, tell me what's going on!"
"Sorry, I don't associate with the criminal element anymore," Paris quipped rudely.  Torres' face flushed with anger.  Janeway put a hand on her shoulder, more to hold her down before she physically assaulted the monitor than to calm her emotionally.
"Commander, let us dock, and we'll get this sorted out," Janeway said forcefully.  "That's an order."

 ***********************************
 Tuvok met Janeway in the Voyager's main shuttle bay, flanked by three security guards with phaser rifles.  Janeway glared at them, and waved them off, but Tuvok instructed them to remain as Neelix and Torres disembarked the shuttle.  Tuvok nodded, and the guards accosted Torres, trying to put manacles on her wrists.  Torres growled with Klingon ferocity, and flung them off.  The third guard rushed forward, and smacked her on the head with the butt of his rifle.  Dazed, Torres dropped to her knees, shaking her head.  The guard hauled off to strike again, but Janeway caught him in the small of the back with a powerful kick, and the guard grunted, falling against the side of the shuttle.
 Tuvok came forward, and stepped between the Captain and his guard.
"Captain, what are you doing?"
"Defending my Chief Engineer from a mutinous security team," Janeway growled.  She stepped around Tuvok, and helped Torres to her feet.  She slapped her combadge angrily.  "Janeway to sickbay.  Doctor, report to the briefing room with your medical kit.  Senior officers, report to the briefing room."  She looked up at Tuvok, who was still standing motionless near the shuttle's airlock.  "Let's move."

 ***********************************
 There were a few surprises waiting for her in the briefing room.  First off, Seven of Nine was nowhere to be seen.  Instead, Janeway's eyes widened with surprise when Kes was in her place, sitting quietly in the chair that Seven normally sat in.  Her long blond hair was no longer as it was the last time Janeway had seen her friend.  It remained short and cropped above her ears as when Janeway had first rescued her from the Kazon Ogla.  Janeway stifled her urge to cry out in surprise, run up and hug the woman, and moved to the chair at the head of the table, her chair.
Secondly, Lt. Carey sat in Torres' chair.  Torres gazed at him with wonder and surprise, and confusion.  Carey was two years dead, his corpse, for all they knew, rotting on some volcanic rock somewhere, fifteen thousand light years behind them.  He didn't look any different from when they had last met, just after the Voyager crew had been marooned on a planet they had thought to be uninhabited.  There, he had been killed by a creature that dwelled in a cave near where the crew had set up temporary shelter.
Of course, the biggest shock of all was not Commander Chakotay's absence, but who was there in his place: the original First Officer of the Starship Voyager, Lieutenant Commander Cavit.  Janeway walked past him idly, to where the Doctor stood with his medical kit.  He stood motionless, raising a curious eyebrow at Torres, who was groggily waiting for attention.
"Don't just stand there," she growled.
"Why shouldn't I?" he asked.  "Captain, she's one of them."
Janeway glared at him.  "Treat her wounds, Doctor.  Now."  The Doctor sighed with reluctant acceptance, and opened the medical kit, and pulled out a medical tricorder.  He scanned Torres, and concluded that her injuries were minor.  She had a minor concussion that was easily treatable.  He pulled out a neural regenerator, and ran the instrument over her head after instructing her to sit down.
Janeway leaned against the table on her palms, not bothering to sit.
"Now, I want to know what's going on," she said.
"Captain, this is highly irregular," Cavit said quietly.  "Doctor, run a full neural scan on her.  She may be under some form of alien influence."
 "You will do no such thing, Doctor.  I am in perfect mental health," Janeway said.  "What I want to know is where you came from, Commander Cavit."
 "Kathryn, I've served under you for five years," he answered.  "You don't remember any of it?  Then tell us what you do remember."
 Janeway nodded.  "Seems reasonable."  Within the next few minutes, she described the Voyager's entry into the Delta Quadrant, the subsequent deaths of several crewmembers, including Commander Cavit.  She skipped ahead two years for the death of Lieutenant Carey, and then of their encounters with the Borg, the acquisition of Seven of Nine to the crew, and Kes' decision to leave the ship to protect her friends.  When she finished outlining five years worth of experiences no other starship captain in the history of the Federation could ever hope to match, the crew was silent.
"Seven of Nine became a member of the crew?"
"Yes, a valuable one," Janeway said.  "She's gotten us out of more scrapes in the last year than I could have ever imagined."
"And… she replaced me?" Carey asked.
"No, she was always the Chief Engineer," Janeway said.  "And you were second in command to her."
Carey glared at Torres with a great deal of contempt.  "Friggin' Maquis.  She probably doesn't even know what a warp drive is, let alone how to take care of one!"
"You little worm!" Torres exclaimed.  "I know more about the Voyager's engines and systems than you could ever in your entire life!"
Carey grunted with disbelief.  "Right," he said.
"That's enough," Cavit said.  "Mr. Tuvok, escort the Maquis back to the brig."
Tuvok grabbed Torres by the arm, and hauled her out of the room.  Janeway started to protest, but she was gone before she could do anything.  Cavit stood up.  "Dismissed, for now," he said.  The rest of the crew filed out slowly, leaving only Cavit and Janeway in the briefing room.  Janeway turned away from him, and leaned against the window.
"Kathryn, what happened on your mission?"
She was perturbed by his use of her first name, but answered his question without protest.  "The shuttle flight was a little bumpy.  There was some unknown radiation in the atmosphere that was causing atmospheric eddies that the engines had trouble cutting through.  But Torres is a good pilot, she got us out.  The foods we collected were undamaged.  Mr. Neelix ran a full inventory check on it on our return trip.  And then…  This."
Cavit nodded.  "The Maquis are not members of this crew.  They've lived out this five-year journey in the brig.  Every day they get more irritable.  It was good of you to let them use the holodeck.  You've always been a very… compassionate woman."
Again, she felt irritated by his choice of words.  She didn't know this man.  And he didn't know her.  Whatever Kathryn Janeway this man had served with for five years, she wasn't the same.  Janeway turned away from the window, and walked slowly around the conference table.  She bit her lip.  "All the things I've done, all the things this crew has gone through, the Maquis have been an integral part of the crew since day one!  They've meshed perfectly with the Starfleet members of the crew.  Five years ago, I didn't think it was possible, but now…  I can't imagine a day without them.  Chakotay and B'Elanna especially."
"Chakotay, the ringleader?"
"My First Officer, and my friend," Janeway said.  "I want to talk to him.  I'm going down to the brig."
"You won't find him there," Cavit said as she neared the door.  "He's been in the holodeck all day.  It's a Maquis day today."
She nodded.  "Thank you."

 ***********************************
Torres sat down on the bunk, fuming with anger.  All of her Maquis friends were there in the brig with her, all of them bitter, and angry.  They wore nondescript civilian coveralls, and had uniform haircuts.  Any injuries they had had been healed, though probably not with any sort of careful measures.  The Doctor gave them the once-over, to make sure that they weren't dying, and then shuttled them off into the brig.  They lived comfortably enough, given plenty of good food and drink, and they were allowed to use the holodeck.  But they were confined to the brig and to the converted Cargo-Bay 2 which served as a secondary brig and gathering place for them.
But they were generally unhappy.
Torres' head was feeling better, though she was still a little woozy.  The Doctor had not given her his usual treatment.  Normally, he was professional, and would not give up until the patient was in perfect order.  It came from his programming, he was a computer, and everything had to be perfect.  But for her, he'd given her only the bare necessities of treatment to get by.  His lack of compassion angered, and worried, her.
But there were larger things to consider at the moment.  Like, how the hell she was going to get out of the brig.  The cells themselves were cut off from the rest of the brig by over-powered force fields.  Apparently, the Starfleet crew didn't want to take the chance of the Maquis forcing their way out.  Two guards with phaser rifles stood at attention at the entrance to each cell.  They weren't stupid like most prison guards were; they stood facing the cell.  B'Elanna had never seen anything like it, especially on Voyager.
There didn't seem to be a way out, just yet.  But she knew that ship like the back of her hand.  She tried to move inconspicuously, but the guards faced the cell.  There was nothing she could do that wouldn't attract their attention.  Unless…
Torres laid herself down on the bunk, with her head at the foot, where a small maintenance access panel was located.  Normally, she would have a tool that would remove the force screws from the panel in a matter of seconds.  But with her bare hands?  It would take hours to get a single one off.  She leaned down, and started feeling about beneath the bunk for the panel.  Her finger brushed over the first screw, and she jabbed her fingernail into it, and started to twist slowly.

 ***********************************
It was a small, two-man fighter.  A Peregrine-class escort, not like the larger Maquis vessel he'd commanded five years previous, but faster, and moderately armed.  The co-pilot's chair was vacant, the console deactivated.  But the pilot was fully armed and ready.
The Cardassian vessel loomed in the forward viewport, it's Disruptors flaring brightly.  Intense white beams of energy lashed forth from the warship's disruptor banks, striking glancing blows at the Peregrine fighter's shields.  The fighter shook quickly, rocking from side to side as he dipped it and swung the ship around the disruptor beams.
The warship stopped firing for an instant.
"Now it's my turn," he muttered, pumping the fighter's engines up to full impulse.  The fighter rocketed forward, phaser banks unleashing their stored energy.  The shields of the warship absorbed every blast easily, and the warship's forward disruptor banks returned that fire.  He swore quietly, and dodged the quick blasts, loosing a volley of torpedoes from the aft launcher.  The three orbs of antimatter slammed the warship's shields, crumpling the sheet of energy that protected the fragile hull.  The shock wave shook the warship, and some buckling occurred in the outer hull bulkheads.
Grinning from ear to ear, he turned the ship around, and locked his phasers onto the section of the shields he had hammered with the torpedoes.  Unfortunately, the pilot of the warship anticipated that move.  The warship turned on its axis, bringing its fully powered port shields to bear, and a fresh batch of disruptor banks.  His eyes opened wide with surprise and fear, and his hand slammed the control panel, throwing the fighter into a wild spin.
Cardassian disruptors flared past, missing by only meters as his ship flung itself about through space in a haphazard pattern.  Finally, his phasers came to bear on the weakened shields once more, and he loosed a fierce string of phaser shots that pierced the shields, and speared the hull beneath.  A fiery explosion blossomed from within the warship, tearing through the decks, and ripping outward through the hull.  It blew the warship off course, causing it to spin wildly.
 He followed the warship on it's downward spiral, striking again and again with his phasers, until the warship erupted into an immense cloud of debris and flame.  His skillful hand pulled the fighter up away from the remains of the warship, and into the wide openness of space.
"Nice shooting," came a voice from behind.  He knew the voice, and didn't bother to turn and face its owner.  It was a voice he had come to hate from afar, only having spoken to the owner a few times.  But he always heard the voice over the ship's intercom, barking orders or telling them of some new god-forsaken danger the ship had gotten itself into somehow.  He hated that voice, and the voices of every other Starfleet officer on the ship.
"What's stopping me from killing you right now?" he asked angrily, his knuckles turning white on the control panel.
"Your compassion as a good man, and a good commander," the voice said.  It was nearer now.  The owner had sat down in the co-pilot's chair.
"You're probably right, Captain Janeway," he said.
"You're probably right, Chakotay," she replied.  She looked at him, trying to notice the differences between this man and the Chakotay that she knew.  They were physically identical.  This Chakotay's hair was a bit longer; he probably didn't cut it very much, having spent the last five years in the brig.  But he was the same height, the same mass.  He didn't look any larger than when she last saw him, perhaps a bit smaller.  Was he eating right, she wondered?  Hell, she thought, have these people been feeding him right?  The Voyager she was o right now appeared to be what the ship would be like if she had not thought to merge the two crews into one.  But could things have gotten so bad between them?  Chakotay wanted her dead.  Where she came from, she couldn't imagine such a possibility.
"How are you?" she asked.
"Why should you care after all this time?  I mean, you didn't seem to care much before," he replied angrily, resetting the program for another battle.  "You never, in five years, came down personally to check on our welfare before.  You always had one of your Starfleet lackeys do it, or maybe that traitor Paris."  He spat the name of the Voyager's helm officer with a great deal of distaste.
She took in a deep breath, not sure how to respond to that question.  The rest of the crew knew that there was something different about her.  The fact that she had defended B'Elanna so adamantly told them that much, and the way she seemed confused and bewildered by the crew roster was also a telltale sign that something was wrong.  They had her under guard.  Tuvok thought she didn't notice, but she did.  And, she knew Tuvok well enough to anticipate such a move.  But it was surprising that they still followed her orders and gave her freedom to move about the ship.  They didn't think that she was an alien spy, or under some sort of alien influence at all.
"I'm a different person," she said softly, "than the Janeway you knew.  I don't know what happened to her.  I'm telling you this now because I need your help."
"My help?"
"I remember you differently," Janeway said.  "The last five years have been different for me than for you.  Where I come from, you're my First Officer."
"What about Cavit?"
"He died, five years ago, when the Caretaker brought us here," Janeway explained slowly.  "The shock wave knocked him off his feet, and he hit his head on the helm."  The deck rocked beneath them as the fighter came under attack by a squadron of small Cardassian fighters.  Chakotay swore for letting them get so close and banked hard at full impulse.  Janeway grabbed hold of the arms of her chair to keep from being thrown out of it by the seemingly wild, yet fully under control maneuver.  The fighter took several glancing blows on the starboard side.
"What do you want?" Chakotay asked again, veering the fighter to the starboard side, taking hits on the port shields.  He reached across the panel, and tapped the phaser controls.  Three short bursts of phaser fire lashed out from the forward banks, slapping the shields of the enemy vessels.
"Is this something you do normally?"
"Yes," Chakotay replied simply, throwing the ship into a port-wise spin.  "Five years and running.  The program is continuous."
"Impressive," Janeway said.  "Well, I'll be… seeing you."  With that, she stood up and left, confused.  She had lost the point of her visit, and could not understand how it had happened.  Somehow, he had evaded the conversation she'd hoped to have with him.  But, did he do it on purpose?  There was no way to tell, she concluded as the holodeck doors closed behind her.  A slight flash of yellow told her that the security detail that was following her around was attempting to hide their presence around the corner to her left.
Glancing around, not seeing any others, she slipped into the next alcove.  The computer terminal access that was installed on the wall lit up at her touch, and she accessed the internal sensors.  They rounded the corner to follow her.  Their icons moved slowly, carefully down the corridor towards her position.
Janeway frowned, and thought back to the time months before when the Hirogen had attacked her ship, and taken it over.  They'd forced Harry Kim to install holographic projectors in the corridors outside the holodeck to let the simulations they forced the crew to participate in roam through the ship.  In essence, to turn Voyager into one big holodeck.  It hadn't worked out that way when Janeway regained control of her ship.  But she'd never removed the holographic projectors from the corridors surrounding the holodeck.  Biting her lip, she accessed the ship-wide holographic database, and cheered in silence when she found the holographic projectors on that deck in perfect working order.
Quickly, she scanned herself, and created a holographic Janeway in the database.
"Computer," she whispered, "initiate program Janeway-Alpha."
The holo-Janeway appeared out of thin air in the middle of the alcove, and Janeway entered the behavior parameters for it.  In another second, the holo-Janeway slackened its posture, and began to walk.  Janeway programmed it, within the next couple of minutes, to smile and wave at passing crewmembers, and respond to them by their rank.  She told the holo-Janeway where to go, and set her on a route that would take her everywhere but the major centers of the ship, just roaming the corridors.  By the time anyone realized it wasn't her, she will have completed her task, and deleted the holo-Janeway.

 ***********************************

Torres grunted with frustration and pulled out the second screw.  She wiped sweat off her brow with her sleeve, and resumed her work.  A stolen glance at the door revealed that the guards still weren't paying attention to her.  Two fingernails ruined, two screws done.  She was still hours away till she got any real work done on her escape.  Until then, all she was doing is twisting screws, praying that the guards didn't look at her very closely.  She'd shifted her position randomly over the last hour, trying to look as though she just couldn't get any sleep.
"C'mon, damn it," she muttered, hearing the dull snap of another nail breaking.  She swore again, switched fingers, and started turning the screw again.  One of her Maquis friends always stood in the way of the guard, but the guard didn't seem to care much.  Her Maquis compatriots could obviously tell that she was planning an escape.  But none of them had talked to her about it yet.  She wondered if they thought she had any chances of success.  She knew she did.  Being Chief Engineer gave her special access to everything.  Not only did she have generalized access codes that any officer could use, but she knew the ship's systems in and out, better than the back of her hand.  No one was more familiar with the tiny nuances of the Voyager's technology than B'Elanna Torres.
"Do you really think that's going to work again?" someone asked.  Torres looked up at the man who had addressed her.  His name was Phil, but everyone in the Maquis called him "Mack" for some reason.  She didn't know why, but it was just the way of things.  Mack was tall, with light brown hair and a mustache.  He knelt down by the edge of the bed, where the panel was located.  He began to twist away at the fourth and final screw while Torres still worked on the third.  Within the next twenty minutes, neither of them said a word, they just unscrewed.  Finally, Mack picked up the last two screws, and dropped them into his pocket.  Quietly, he lowered the panel to the floor, and let Torres reach in to do her work.  The small power relay wasn't enough to take out the force field, but if she overloaded the system it was connected to under the bed, they would fry the electrical systems in the entire cell, including the force field.  It was the one design flaw of the Intrepid-Class Starship Voyager that B'Elanna Torres was ever thankful for.
She dug her fingers into the relay, switching wires and circuit pathways.  A spark flew from the panel as the electrical systems flared up.  It burned her hand, and she yanked it out quickly, gasping in pain.  The lights in the cell flickered and went out, so did the force field.  Torres pulled out the tiny, Type-1 phaser she kept in her belt, and fired, taking out the first guard.  Mack rushed the second guard, and ended up beating the man into unconsciousness with the butt of the guard's rifle.  Torres picked up the first guard's rifle, and put her hand phaser back into her belt.
"Let's go," she said.  The Maquis in the cell fanned out, locating the phaser cache in behind the guards' desk.  Torres darted out into the hallway, waving the rifle about, prepared to fire at anyone who would stand in her way.  The corridor was empty.  Red lights began to flash overhead, and Torres knew that they had been discovered.  Cavit probably had the brig under constant surveillance.  She started to run down the hall toward the turbolift that would take her to the shuttlebay.

 ***********************************

Neelix looked around when the red alert klaxon sounded in the mess hall.  When he queried the computer as to the nature of the emergency, the softly stated reply was "Security breach in the Brig."
"Oh my," he said, and picked up a phaser from behind the counter.  "I hope I don't have to use this."  Sounds of footsteps pounded through the corridor, and he looked out the window to see who it was.  Uniformed security officers with phaser rifles marched past, and soon a new sound filled the corridor: phaser fire.  Neelix saw several of the security guards fall quickly beneath a fierce barrage from a well-positioned Maquis contingent.  This was something he never thought he'd see.  A Maquis rebellion aboard Voyager was a possibility that had been ruled out years before as the two crews had meshed together so well.  Obviously, wherever they were now, the same was not true.
Neelix jogged over to the other entrance to the mess hall, and saw the Maquis, led by B'Elanna Torres, hiding behind a turn in the corner from the returning phaser fire of Starfleet Security.  Biting his lip, he knew that whatever B'Elanna was fighting for was the right side to be on.  Moving to the other door again, he opened it, leaned out, and fired.  He caught three of the six security guards completely by surprise, but the remaining three drove him back into the mess hall.  He dove behind the counter, into the kitchen as another patrol charged into the mess hall, trying to get around the field of fire.
"Stop right there!" Neelix shouted, aiming his phaser at them.  "Oh… I'm sorry, I thought you were Maquis!"  The security officers lowered their rifles, and again started towards the door.  Neelix caught them by surprise when he opened fire, taking all six of them down with one sweep of a phaser beam.  From the window in the door, he motioned for B'Elanna to move her people into the mess hall and circumvent security.  The firefight continued outside, but it was diversionary as Torres and three of her people circled around security through the mess hall, and took them out from behind.
"Come on, Neelix," she said, waving him out into the hall, "we're getting out of here.  Computer, locate Captain Janeway."
"Don't bother, B'Elanna, I'm right here," Janeway said, coming up to her, phaser rifle in hand.  Torres' Maquis fighters aimed their phasers at her, but Torres waved them off.
"She's with us," B'Elanna said to them.  They stared at her in utter disbelief, but followed her orders nonetheless.  "Captain, we need to get to the Delta Flyer.  If we go back to that planet with the irradiated atmosphere, we might be able to find out what happened."
"Agreed," Janeway said.  Together, they marched off down the hall toward the shuttle hangar.
"Cavit to Janeway," came the voice of her new First Officer over the com system.  "Just what the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Getting to the bottom of the situation, Commander," Janeway replied.  "I'd suggest you stay out of my way.  I'm not in a happy mood."
"Kathryn…"
"Are we forgetting protocol, Commander?" Janeway said angrily.  "I don't remember ever saying you could call me by name.  Since when have we been on a first name basis, Bob?"
There was a pause.
"Captain, please…"
The tinny sound of phaser fire filtered through her combadge.  Janeway looked over at B'Elanna.  "Did you send anyone to the bridge?" she asked.
"No," Torres replied.  "I sent them to auxiliary control because engineering and the bridge were too heavily fortified.  I figured they could break through the lockouts if I gave them some engineering codes."
Janeway nodded.  "Good idea.  But who the hell is on the bridge?"
"Chakotay to Janeway."  Janeway smiled.  Without knowing it, she'd just been handed the answer to her question.
"Janeway here."
"The bridge is ours.  The Delta Flyer is prepped for flight, and you're cleared for takeoff.  But you'd better hurry.  Some security is on its way, and most of my men are busy.  I can't protect you any longer."
Janeway nodded, even though she knew Chakotay couldn't see or hear it.  "You've done more than enough, Chakotay.  Thank you, and good luck."
"You too.  Chakotay out."  The six rebels started to run, headed toward the hangar deck.  When they got there, a contingent of security officers was waiting for them.  Security opened fire, taking out two of their Maquis guards, but they hesitated when they saw Janeway marching up from behind the Maquis, holding a phaser rifle to B'Elanna, who had her hands over her head.  Neelix had his hand phaser up against the neck of the third Maquis guard.  Security lowered their rifles when they saw that their Captain had the situation under control.  Janeway thought something evil about their intelligence, and then aimed her phaser at the nearest security guard.  She fired.  Neelix took out the other, and then Janeway gave B'Elanna her rifle back.  Janeway unslung her own rifle from over her shoulder, and the doors to the hangar were clear.
The Delta Flyer was exactly as they'd left it.  B'Elanna dismissed her two Maquis soldiers, and Janeway, Torres and Neelix boarded the Flyer.  The ship was already powered up and ready to go.  Janeway opened the hangar doors by remote, and activated the launch turntable.  The deck beneath the Flyer rotated, until the bow of the vessel was pointed toward open space.  There was no need to fire the maneuvering jets inside the hangar.
The Flyer rocketed out into open space, headed straight away from Voyager.  The relatively starship seemed massive compared to the tiny shuttle.  Voyager turned to give chase, loosing shots from the main phaser arrays.  Torres had the helm again; she dipped the ship onto an evasive course beneath Voyager.  Janeway returned fire, running her phasers across the ship's ventral hull.
"We're no match for Voyager's weapons, and we can't put a dent in her shields with this thing," Torres complained as another hit ground into the Flyer's shields.  "We've got to get out of here.  It's obvious that Chakotay has lost the bridge."
"I know," Janeway said, sounding sorry for the man.  He's been through a lot, she thought.  "We need to get that ship off our backs.  Any ideas?"
"You're the Captain," B'Elanna shot back angrily.  "Use a command code to shut down the engines or something!"
Janeway paused, considering it.  She wanted to get that ship away, but did she want to leave it defenseless in an unknown area of space?  She would have to take that chance.  It wasn't really her Voyager, but she still felt responsible for it all the same.  They weren't really her friends, but she still felt responsible for them all the same.  Torn between the knowledge of who they were, and who they weren't, she was.  Finally, she made her decision.
"Com channel open," the computer told her.  Janeway transmitted Voyager's command prefix code.  Almost immediately, the code triggered the starship's computers, and lowered the shields.  Janeway loosed three shots at Voyager's port warp nacelle, destroying the ship's ability to go to warp for a few days.
"Captain!" Neelix shouted from the other console.  "They've locked onto us with photon torpedoes!"
"B'Elanna, engage warp engines now!"

 ***********************************

The Delta Flyer put itself into orbit around Zeta Indi III, and the ship's scanners reached out to find whatever clues they could about how they came to be in this strange, new world.  Neelix gave Torres and Janeway mugs filled with coffee, and then dumped the tray into the recycling slot.  Janeway sipped her coffee, and started a log entry.

"Captain's Log: Stardate 52467.1
Aboard the Delta Flyer, we have returned to Zeta Indi III, in order to determine the cause of our arrival here.  Our time is limited, as long range sensors have detected the Voyager headed this way.  Also, a number of heavily armed vessels are patrolling this space.  I believe we have transgressed into an area of space that may not be very friendly to us."

"Captain, one of those warships has entered this system!" Neelix cried out.  "They're headed right for us!"
Janeway turned to face the helm.  "B'Elanna, take us to the southern pole.  The magnetic distortions should mask our signature."
"Aye, Captain."
The Flyer shot off toward its new destination, and Janeway continued her analysis of the planet's radioactive atmosphere.
"There must be something down there that affected us," she muttered.  "But what?  All the sensors can detect is an odd form of radiation that doesn't seem to be affecting our systems that much at all."
Neelix heard her, despite the softness of her voice, and suggested, "Well, what if it's how our systems affected the radiation, and not how the radiation affected our systems?"  Janeway paused.  She hadn't even considered that possibility.  Some scientist I am, she told herself, frowning.  Tapping away at the console, a schematic of the Delta Flyer appeared on the screen.  The main computer analyzed the ship's systems, and came up with nothing.  Still frowning, but thinking that she was on the right track, Janeway scanned all the systems with radiation clogging them, and then ran a second analysis on how those systems reacted to the radiation.
The computer beeped when it was finished, and Janeway put down her mug of coffee to look at the results.
"That's it!  Neelix, you're a genius!"
"I… I am?" Neelix stammered.  "Why, yes…. I suppose I am."  Janeway smiled, and went forward to stand over B'Elanna's shoulder.
"Plot a course along our original escape vector, and engage at full impulse."
"Aye, Captain," Torres replied.  "That warship that entered this sector is hailing us, Captain."
Janeway swore in her mind.  She didn't need this.  "How close is Voyager?"
Torres tapped a few keys for computer confirmation.  "About 12 minutes.  That warship will be here in 8 minutes."
Biting on her lower lip, Janeway said, "Put the warship commander on screen."  She looked over Torres' shoulder at the wall-mounted screen as the image of the alien commander popped up.  He was an ugly looking man, if it was indeed a man.  His skin was rough, and dry as though it completely lacked moisture.  It flaked off disgustingly when he moved.  Janeway's expression went from angry and depressed to disgusted and horrified.  The alien captain immediately sensed her change in mood, and got angry.
"This planet is ours!" he shouted.  His booming voice filled the cabin, and Torres was forced to turn down the speaker volume.  "Go away, or be destroyed."
"I'm afraid I can't do that right now, Mr., I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."
"Ti'Kra'oN," the alien spat.  Janeway frowned.  How the hell was she supposed to pronounce that?
"Look, Mister… To-Cry-On, or whatever, I don't have the time to deal with you right now," she said, trying to sound as menacing as possible, and holding down her gag reflex as the alien cracked his neck, shedding another layer of skin fragments.  "Because this planet did something to my ship that screwed it all up, and I'm going to find out what."
"How dare you speak to me in such an insolent manner, you wench!"
Janeway looked down at Torres.  "What did he just call me?" she whispered, softly enough so that the speaker did not pick it up.
"A 'wench', Captain," Torres said, sounding angry and disgusted.
Janeway looked back up at the alien on the screen.  "Slimy toad."
"I am not slimy!" he whined.
Torres retorted, "Obviously, you're like a beached whale."
"A beached WHAT?"
"You heard me, Shamu!"
The transmission ended, and the ship was thrown off course by a hard hit to the starboard shields.  Janeway was slammed against the port stations, and got the wind knocked out of her.  Torres pushed the ship forward, out of the line of fire while Neelix helped the Captain back into her chair.  Neelix sat down across from her as Torres pulled a wild evasive that threatened to splatter them against the aft bulkheads.  The massive alien warship loomed ahead of them.  Janeway quickly activated the Borg weapons systems aboard the Delta Flyer, and locked on.
"Firing photonic missiles," she said, and hit the trigger.  Four bright green bolts were loosed from the Flyer's missile launchers.  They streaked forward through space, and slammed into the shields of the warship.  The field of energy that protected the warship shimmered brightly, spraying energy of all sorts into open space.  Torres turned the tiny ship and ran at full speed along the length of the warship while Janeway landed phaser shot after phaser shot.  "B'Elanna, we can't fight them.  We have to make a run for the planet."
"What about Voyager?"
"I don't know.  If they see that we're gone, maybe they'll leave the area."
"Do you think Cavit would really do that?"
Janeway paused.  "I don't know.  I never knew that man.  I can't even begin to predict what he'll do."
"If he's even one iota like Chakotay, he'll stay and fight until he knows for sure that we won't be back."  The deck rocked as the Flyer took another hit.
"Captain!" Neelix shouted.  "The shields are down!  Another hit and…"
"Thank you, Mr. Neelix, I think I can finish that sentence on my own," Janeway said.  "B'Elanna, take us toward atmosphere, full impulse!  Engage!"  The warship loomed behind them, threatening to overtake the tiny vessel and destroy it, as they had promised.  "What's Voyager's ETA?"
"Two minutes!"
"How much longer till we hit the upper atmosphere?"
"Four minutes!"

 ***********************************

Chakotay held on to the arms of Janeway's chair as the ship shook around him.
"I said stay away from that planet!"
"And I said, I can't do that!" Chakotay shouted back at the disgusting alien on the viewscreen.  "I'm not going to give up, so you might as well just back off!"
Chakotay made a slashing motion across his neck, and the alien disappeared from the screen.  The ship shook again as Tom Paris, the helm officer, plunged her deeper into the atmosphere of Zeta Indi III.  The energy blasts from the warship trying to stop them caused the ship further course misalignment, and Chakotay began to feel his grip on the arms of the chair slipping.
"Paris, hold our course!"
"Aye, sir!"
"Prepare for rapid ascent in 25 seconds!"

 ***********************************

"Captain, I'm picking up something strange from the planet's surface," Neelix reported.  "It looks like a ship!"
Torres squinted through the forward viewport, through the writhing clouds and atmospheric eddies at the massive object that was rising to meet them at an extreme speed.  It began to take shape as it neared her, and the thought to change their course didn't even occur to her as she studied the vessel as the details began to clear.  Janeway saw it, too.  She jumped up from her chair, and slammed her palm down on the helm controls, throwing the Flyer into a port side spiral as the starship Voyager roared up from beneath the cloud layer.
Janeway smiled proudly as she watched her ship rocket away from the planet's surface at full speed, powerful phaser arrays slicing through the menacing warship's shields like vibro-knives through butter.  The warship pulled away, damaged engines straining, and plotted an escape course that took it right to the alternate Voyager.  It was then that the other warships decided it was prudent to attack.  One of them put itself between the Flyer and its Voyager.  The warship's boxed in Janeway's Voyager, pounding her mercilessly in revenge for the humiliation of their comrade.
Torres pulled the Flyer over the top of the warship, and lined herself up with Voyager's hangar door.
"Janeway to Voyager!  Open the hangar, we're coming in!"
"Chakotay here!  It's good to hear your voice, Captain."
Voyager's shuttlebay door opened, but the shields stayed up.  Chakotay was playing a dangerous game; he was only going to lower the shields when the Flyer got close enough.  Alien warships surrounded the Voyager, taking hit after devastating hit to the shields.  But Voyager fought back valiantly.  Janeway smiled when she saw that Chakotay had expertly maneuvered the warships into opening up their formation, to let the Flyer in, and to let the Voyager out.

 ***********************************

"Tom, reverse course, full impulse!" Chakotay ordered, working out the maneuver in his mind.  "Tuvok, let the shields down as soon as the Delta Flyer is within range."
"Aye, Commander," came the steady reply from the Vulcan Tactical Officer.
The Voyager roared backward at full impulse, aft phaser banks firing.  At the same time, Torres pushed the Flyer forward.  Janeway held on to the sides of her console, listening to the rattle of the deck plates and bulkheads as the shuttle pushed forward through the line of fire coming from the warships.  Voyager's phaser blasts cleared the path for them both, and the Intrepid-class starship's shields went down.  The Flyer sailed right into the ship's hangar bay, and stopped dead, reverse thrusters keeping it from slamming into the forward bulkhead.
Janeway looked at the bulkhead, with an identification plate shining through the window.  "USS Voyager, NCC-74656.  United Federation of Planets."  And she finally decided to breathe again.

 ***********************************

As soon as Janeway stepped off the turbolift, she started barking orders.
"Mr. Paris, set a course toward that other Voyager," she said loudly, sitting down as Chakotay got out of her chair and sat in his own.  "Tuvok, how many of those tricobalt torpedoes do we have left?"
"Eight."
"Ready two of them," she said.  The weapons she had just ordered Tuvok to prepare were the most powerful in Voyager's inventory, and hadn't been used in five years.  Not since Janeway had been forced to destroy the Caretaker's array to protect the Ocampa had she even thought of the massive torpedo payloads that were sitting in Voyager's weapons bay.  "And lock on to the warship nearest the other Voyager, and prepare to fire.  Open a hailing frequency."
"Frequency open."
Ti'Kra'oN appeared on the main viewscreen, looking quite angry still.  More skin flaked off of him, and his uniform looked slightly singed.
"Just who in the hell do you think you are?"
"Captain Kathryn Janeway, Federation starship Voyager.  It's nice to make your acquaintance.  Now, back off from that ship.  I've got two tricobalt torpedoes aimed right at your midsection.  Armored as your hide is, you can't withstand that kind of blast."
Ti'Kra'oN looked confused.  "Tri…Co…Balt…?"
Another voice came over the speaker, a human's voice.  Janeway immediately recognized it.  It was Cavit.  "A powerful explosive, Mr. Ti'Kra'oN.  Just one of them can rip through your shields like they weren't even there.  I'd listen to her.  She knows what she's talking about."
"It's a trick.  Some kind of trick.  Well, I'm not falling for it.  Now get out of our space, or I'll destroy you."
"Mr. Tuvok, prepare to fire."
"Torpedoes ready."
"We've got two of those mean things on you, too Ti'Kra'oN.  I don't think you want to risk us using four tricobalt torpedoes on your hull.  Do you really think you can stand up to us?"
Ti'Kra'oN set his jaw, and took in a deep breath.
"Please, Ti'Kra'oN, listen to me.  I don't want to destroy your ship.  I just want to get my ship home.  And I need this planet to do that.  I'm asking you to let me get my crew home."
"Destroy them."
"Why?"
"Because if I let you go, other ships will want to be let go.  I can't keep your one example a secret, even if I did want to help you.  It is my way.  I have my orders to destroy you.  And I will follow those orders."
Janeway cut the transmission, and closed her eyes.  "Mr. Tuvok, prepare to fire," she said, slowly.  "Aim for the ship's midsection."
"Aye, Captain.  Torpedoes locked."
She took a deep breath, and looked up at the ship on the viewscreen.  "Fire."

 ***********************************

"Captain's Log: Supplemental.
We've completed our survey of the planet Zeta Indi III, and have discovered the wreckage of the alternate Delta Flyer on the planet's surface.  I'm sorry to report that of the alternate Janeway, Torres and Neelix… that there were no survivors.  I sympathize with the crew of the other Voyager for their great loss, and commend their heroism in the battle against the aliens."
"I'm sorry, Captain Janeway.  We should have listened to you," Cavit said, his bloodshot eyes looking down sadly at his feet.  Janeway nodded in acceptance of the apology.  She wasn't completely sure what to say to this man.  He'd just lost his Captain, a prisoner, and chef/morale officer.  He wasn't even certain how the alternate Torres got aboard the Delta Flyer on that mission.  The manifest for that mission stated that only Janeway and Neelix were going to go.  It was his theory that she'd stowed away aboard the Flyer, probably to kill Janeway, and had somehow ended up causing the accident that destroyed the ship.
"It's ok.  There was no harm done to us.  I'm sorry, as well.  We caused a Maquis rebellion, something that you've been worried about for years.  It may be a little late now, but perhaps you should consider merging the crews."
"Do you think so?  We've been treating them horribly for five years.  I don't think they'll trust us now."
Janeway shook her head.  "I know those people.  Talk to Chakotay.  Tell him what I've said.  He's a good man, and a great leader.  I know it will work out.  Like most things, it will take time."
"I will.  Thank you, Captain.  And… Good luck, getting home."
"You too, Captain Cavit.  Janeway out."  The screen winked off to show the other Voyager veering off, and streaking into warp.
Janeway sat back down in her chair, and looked around.  Her gaze settled on each of the Maquis crewmembers that were stationed on the bridge, Torres, Mack, and finally, on Chakotay.  She smiled at each of them, and then turned back to Paris.
"Mr. Paris, condition Blue.  Take us down."
Paris entered his commands into the helm, and said, "Yes ma'am."

 ***********************************

"So," Chakotay asked, putting down his fork.  "You never told me what that holo-Janeway was for.  Your report didn't mention it, either."
Janeway chuckled softly, and swallowed before answering.  "I knew that whatever B'Elanna was doing to escape the brig probably wasn't going to work.  Those Starfleet guards had been watching her and the Maquis for five years.  And I knew she was going to try something to break out.  So while the holographic Janeway was strolling aimlessly about the ship, I was in the computer core, trying to overload the electronic systems in the brig, to lower the force field."
"So, Torres didn't do it?  Have you told her."
"No," Janeway said.  "She deserves it.  No one else could have instilled a Maquis riot over there."  She smiled, and winked at Chakotay before picking up her fork again, and stabbing it into the fresh greens on her plate.  Chakotay chuckled, and did the same.

END.