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Kaz said nothing, but he thought that being thrown in the brig might be the least of their worries, if what he suspected was the case. He just hoped they survived.

Satisfied, Gradak? he thought.

Not yet came the reply from the dead Maquis whose consciousness vied with his own. Not quite yet.

Tom Paris noticed a slightly distracted expression on Admiral Janeway’s face when she returned to the conference. He himself was screamingly bored and doing his damnedest to feign interest. A species that, for some reason beyond his fathoming, spoke a language that could not be translated by the apparently misnamed Universal Translator was holding forth, and the process of human translation was excruciatingly dull.

As Janeway slid into her seat beside him, he asked softly, “Anything I can assist you with, Admiral?” Tuvok, with his extremely sensitive hearing, gave him a glare. Tom ignored the Vulcan.

“You sound almost hopeful, Mr. Paris,” Janeway whispered, keeping her eyes on the furry yellow alien and pretending to be interested in his laboriously translated diatribe.

“Well, actually…” he admitted.

“As a matter of fact, there might be. Keep on your toes, Mr. Paris. I may need to send you on a secret mission.”

Tom felt happier at that pronouncement than he had all day.

The Changeling awoke feeling as if he hadn’t slept.

Ever.

He hated this period of time, when he was as locked into Solid form as if he had never met Moset. Fortunately, it was time for another dose of Moset’s concoction, and he reached eagerly for the hypospray. He closed his eyes as he felt the stuff hit his system, felt it changing the very molecules of his body. Breaking them out of the prison of Solid form and releasing them to fluid freedom.

How had he endured it for so long? Sometimes he marveled at the strength of his own will. He was made of sterner stuff than the Vorta who had enforced the punishment; he had resisted the seductive call of suicide. And now he was finally starting to reap the rewards of his determination.

He had barely stepped onto the bridge and greeted his crew when Campbell said, “Incoming message, Captain.”

“Source?”

“Admiral Janeway, sir.”

He covered his surprise. “I’ll take it in my ready room.” He felt puzzled eyes on him as he rose. Half the people on this bridge had served under Janeway and liked and respected her; they would have been pleased to see her.

“Chakotay” reached the ready room, and the doors closed behind him. “Put her through, Lieutenant,” he told Campbell. He smiled with what he hoped would be perceived as pleasure as the image of Admiral Janeway appeared on the small computer screen.

“Admiral Janeway. I hope things are going well at the conference. Looking for an excuse to step away from it for a bit?”

She smiled. “Something like that. It’s going as well as can be expected. I hadn’t heard anything from you, so I thought I’d just check in and see how you were doing. Were you able to locate the colonists?”

He put a sorrowful expression on his face. “Unfortunately. They’re all dead, Admiral.”

Her face softened in sympathy. “I’m so sorry to hear that,” she said. “Do you know what happened?”

“Not yet, but we’re conducting an investigation. I’ll be keeping Voyager here until we’ve got enough evidence to figure it out.”

She smiled sadly. “This reminds me of the time we came across those bodies on Amasri. Do you remember that?”

The name of the place was unfamiliar to the Changeling. He was sure he hadn’t seen it in any of the official logs. Was this something that Chakotay and Janeway had kept between themselves? He had suspected that they had shared more than they’d reported in the official logs.

“How could I forget?” he said, stalling.

“All those poor people.” She sighed. “We never did find out what happened to them.”

“Chakotay” shook his head in utterly faked remembered sorrow. “No, and I know we both felt pretty bad about that.” It was a safe guess.

“How’s your sister? Are you enjoying her company?”

He smiled. “Of course. She’s got her hands full with the colonists, though, after this bad news.