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“Sir, I have an incoming message,” Campbell said.

Kim’s stomach clenched and his hands began to tremble slightly. Through sheer willpower, he forced them to steady, forced himself to continue to stare at his console, revealing nothing. He felt sweat gather at his hairline.

“Who’s it from?” Chakotay’s voice was sharp. He sounded as tense as Kim was feeling. Surreptitiously he glanced over at Campbell. She was grinning and winked at him.

“It’s for Lieutenant Kim, sir. Libby Webber.”

Kim blushed furiously. He usually loved hearing from Libby, but of all the times she could have tried to contact him, this had to be the worst. He felt every pair of eyes on the bridge staring at him.

“You’ll take it here, Mr. Kim,” said Chakotay. “Please keep it brief.”

Libby’s face appeared on the screen, and she seemed startled and embarrassed to realize she’d be talking to the whole bridge crew.

“Um, hi, Harry,” she said. “I just wanted—”

“Libby, I can’t talk to you right now,” he said, aware that Chakotay was watching him intently.

“Oh,” she said, trying not to look surprised and hurt and failing. “Sure. I’m sure you’re very busy with your new duties.”

Against his better judgment, he said, “Libby, I’m sorry. There’s just a lot going on right now. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

She blinked hard and smiled courageously. “I understand. Okay. Talk to you later.”

The screen again filled with stars streaking past as they continued on to Loran II. Kim kept his eyes on his console, but he wasn’t surprised to hear Chakotay say, “Until this mission is concluded, let’s have no more personal messages in or out, shall we?”

“Of course, sir. Understood,” Kim said. Lyssa looked uncomfortable, and the newcomers to the bridge, Patel and Tare, studiously attended to their stations.

Suddenly Lyssa made a small sound of annoyance. “Another message, sir.”

“Please tell me it’s not a personal one.”

A frown marred her pretty face. “I wish I could, sir, but…sir, it appears to be from Irene Hansen.”

Kim’s head whipped up, but Chakotay appeared not to have noticed.

“Irene Hansen,” Chakotay repeated. “On-screen.”

Was it Kim’s imagination, or was Chakotay drawing a blank at the name? Chakotay—the real Chakotay—would know exactly who this was. Everyone knew Seven’s jovial aunt. But why would she be—

Irene Hansen’s lined face appeared on the screen. Normally, she always had a hint of her smile and her eyes twinkled. Now, however, she had put on no makeup. Her hair was unkempt, and her eyes darted about.

“Chakotay?” she said in a shaky voice. “Chakotay, is that you?”

“Yes, ma’am. What can I do for you?”

“Annika…I want to talk to Annika….” Her gaze wandered off to the right, and she fell silent.

For the briefest instant Kim was terribly worried. Then he realized what was going on—what had to be going on. Irene Hansen had a sharp mind and was in full possession of her faculties.

“Ms. Hansen,” said Chakotay, his voice starting to sound harsh, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Seven isn’t on Voyager anymore.”

Irene set her mouth, looking like a stubborn child. “That’s just silly. You shouldn’t try to trick an old woman like that, Frederick. I want to talk to Annika, and you should put me through to her right now.”

“Mute,” Chakotay said to Campbell, who quickly obeyed, looking surprised and embarrassed for poor Irene Hansen.

Kim swallowed and followed his gut hunch. “Sir,” he said, “Seven’s aunt has been this way for some time.”

Now I’ve done it, he thought. If somehow this really is Chakotay, he’ll know I’m lying. Irene Hansen was at his send-off party, for pity’s sake…. Good thing no one else on the bridge was there….

“I’m sorry about that, but she’s got no business interfering with a starship on an important mission,” Chakotay snapped irritably.

A huge wave of combined relief and horror washed over Kim.

It really wasn’t Chakotay.

“May I alert Seven? She’ll want to talk to her aunt,” he said, shocked at how casual his voice sounded.