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"Ask away," Rabinowitz told him. "Answering questions is what the seder is all about."

"I heard your sister speak of the bread of affliction-clearly, a reference to the matzoth she was holding up."

"That's right," said the lieutenant.

"And she expressed the ethic of charity which you mentioned in connection with the prophet Elijah."

"Right again."

"But," the Doctor noted, "she spoke of a wish to be in the land of Israel, though-as you told me-she and her family live in North America. Also, she referred to herself as a slave ... ?"

"When she appears to enjoy the same freedoms as any other Federation citizen."

The Doctor nodded. "Exactly."

Rabinowitz picked up the padd in front of him and tapped in a command. Then he read out loud.

"In every generation, each individual is bound to regard himself as if he himself had gone out of Egypt. As it is said, 'And thou shalt relate to thy son this very day, this is what the Lord did for me when I left Egypt." Thus, it was not our ancestors alone who were redeemed, but us as well."

"Hey, link-no skipping ahead," Naomi insisted.

"Sorry," said the lieutenant, feigning contrition. Then he turned to the Doctor. "You see? In a sense, we are slaves, just like our ancestors. And just like them, we yearn to leave Egypt and be free."

The Doctor looked at him. "So ... you're asserting a bond of kinship with those who came before you."

"Actually," Rabinowitz told him, "it's more than that. We're saying, in a literal way, that we are the people the Pharaohs enslaved in Egypt-and that those people are us."

The Doctor thought about that for a moment. Obviously, this was a rather considerable leap of faith.

"What if one doesn't feel that way?" he asked. "What if one merely sees the liberation from Egypt as an intriguing historical event?"

Rabinowitz looked at him with a touch of sadness in his eyes. "One would still be welcome at the seder, Doctor."

The Doctor felt as if he had lost something important. "Thank you," he told the lieutenant.

"Glad to be of service," said Rabinowitz.

PARIS TRIED TO IGNORE THE STARES HE AND HIS COMPANION were getting as they negotiated one of Voyager's corridors. Apparently, people still weren't used to the idea of a Borg with the run of the ship.

"I've never navigated a transwarp conduit," he told Seven of Nine. "Any problems I should be aware of'?"

She gave him an imperious glance. "You'll have no idea what you're doing. If we attempt to enter a transwarp conduit, I will have to take conn control. Any other course would be foolish."

Paris shrugged good-naturedly. "I am a quick study."

But the Borg was persistent. "There will be a number of gravimetric instabilities in the conduit. If they're not handled in precisely the right manner, the ship will be torn apart."

Paris chuckled. I can be persistent, too, he thought.

"Just out of curiosity, I'd like to take a look at the field displacement parameters. Could you set them for me?"

Seven of Nine glanced at him. "They will be of no use to you."

"Even so," he said, turning on the charm.

The Borg frowned ever so slightly. "All right."

There, the helmsman thought. We're having a conversation. A productive conversation. This isn't nearly as difficult as I thought it might be.

Of course, from the moment Seven of Nine had been disconnected from the Borg collective, Paris had had less trouble accepting her than some of his crewmates. He had been inclined to treat her as a person, not someone who might try to assimilate him at the drop of a nanite probe.

There was a corner up ahead. As they approached it, Paris tried to think of what other data he might need from Seven of Nine.

The flight controller was still thinking when he and the Borg made their turn-and saw two people walking in the opposite direction. One was Lieutenant Tuvok. The other was a Caatati.

Paris wasn't surprised to see the visitor. He hadn't been present on the bridge when Voyager encountered the Caatati ships, but word spread quickly on a starship.

Then Paris