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“What I am certain of is that he was unable to receive the complete message,” Seven said, her fingers flying over the pads. “Even though he is no longer head of operations on Voyager, I have no doubt that he has remembered his skill at that post. It is entirely up to him now.”

“At least we can get this to Admiral Janeway,” the Doctor said.

Janeway wished she could have been aboard the Delta Flyer instead of being forced to sit in a conference hall and listen to the same argument being played out again and again.

The hope had been, on the Federation’s part, to convince the planets that had expressed a desire to secede to remain. Unfortunately, the plan was not achieving that goal. If anything, it was causing those who had been on the fence to opt with the Secessionists. Janeway knew that the representatives of at least two member planets had gone from unsure to certain—about leaving. She desperately hoped that there would be no more added to that number, especially not Merin Kol.

She spotted the Kerovian amar in one of the front rows and vowed to somehow find a few minutes to talk with the woman. She seemed to want to have a reason to stay, but if Janeway didn’t give her one, and a good one at that, Janeway knew that Kerovi would also turn its back on an alliance of over forty years.

The presentation ended. Janeway blinked. She’d been so lost in thought—about Chakotay, about Paris, about Kim and Kaz and the colonists—that she hadn’t paid much attention to what was going on right in front of her.

Break time, she thought. As she rose, stiff from sitting, she caught Merin Kol’s eye. The other woman smiled in acknowledgment, but was quickly obscured by the exiting crowd.

Janeway tried to make her way toward the amar, but she felt a light touch on her shoulder and turned to see Tuvok. He looked even graver than usual.

“You have another message, Admiral. Priority channel gamma one.”

Her eyes widened. Not only was this an urgent message, but it came from an untraceable source. She tasted disappointment at once again being unable to talk privately with Kol, but her duty was clear. Tuvok followed her, his silent presence a comfort, as she reached the private room where she could take the message.

“No, stay, Tuvok,” she said to her old friend as the Vulcan turned to leave. “I have a feeling I may need you, now that I’ve dispatched Paris.”

Tuvok inclined his head. “As you wish, Admiral.”

She licked lips suddenly gone dry and entered her personal data code. Old-fashioned lettering, white against a black background, scrolled across the screen.

Admiral: There is a traitor on Voyager, a mole who has been accessing confidential information about the crew and ship for several months and who has been active for years. He is Commander Andrew Ellis. He is believed to be dangerous. Take all precautions when apprehending.

The message was signed: Peregrine.

“Our elusive friend from a few months ago,” Janeway said. She recalled that the mysterious “Peregrine” had appeared before at a crucial time, his or her untraceable messages always accurate, always helpful. Previously Peregrine had given them information that had helped save their lives—and, perhaps, the lives of everyone on Earth.

“This could be a trap of some sort,” the ever-cautious Tuvok warned his former captain. “There is no way to document that this is the same Peregrine. And whoever it is, is not as up-to-date on the situation as we are. Commander Ellis is dead.”

Janeway listened to Tuvok; she always listened to Tuvok. But she was also thinking furiously, staring at the white lettering as if trying to brand it into her brain.

“Yes, Ellis is definitely dead, according to both Kaz and Kim. Not, apparently, according to Chakotay.” She turned to regard him with an intense gaze. “Dead by cuts inflicted by someone or something wielding a scalpel and leaving no trace of himself behind; dead just recently but somehow showing signs of long-term stasis.”

She pointed at the screen. “Peregrine says he’s been active for