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“And so will I,” B’Elanna said, and fell in behind.

Seven of Nine sighed as her awareness of Torres’s consciousness slipped away. What a strange, solitary, angry person the engineer was. Why would she protest the joining with a greater whole so vociferously? What did she gain from her behavior? Seven could not see the sense of it.

“Are they all right?” One of Kaytok’s associates, Pad, stood nearby, holding a small brown paper sack.

Rising, Seven said, “They are currently undetected. How likely are the Emergency Council to have forces out in the field?”

Pad shrugged. A tiny, gnarled creature, he, like Kaytok, seemed either unable or unwilling to join into a hara. Though he followed in the wake of the group, Seven never sensed the soft fading of the edges of his persona that she saw in many Monorhans. The difference between Kaytok and Pad was that she never sensed desperation from the former. “Maybe not so likely. What’s the point in putting a lot of people out in the field when the world’s coming to an end? I figure if the council hasn’t sent anyone out looking for us by now, they’re not going to.”

Seven nodded. She had been pondering their situation and wondered why the Emergency Council had not sent out a team to investigate the energy wave. “Why not?” she asked Pad.

“Because they’re all too busy trying to figure out how they’re going to live another day,” Pad said. “Word of the ships breaking up has probably leaked by now. Some of the council members will try to keep panic from spreading, but a lot of the others will be looking for a crack where they can hide their…Well, you get my meaning.” He looked down at the small bundle in his hand and asked, “You want some lunch? I brought you something.”

“No thank you,” Seven said. “I do not currently require nutrition.”

“I haven’t seen you eat since you got here.”

“I do not need to eat very often. Please give the food to someone else.” Seven looked at Pad with what she hoped was a meaningful expression. “Yourself, perhaps. You look as if more sustenance would do you good.”

Pad poked a single gnarled digit at the oily package. “Don’t seem to matter too much whether I eat or not. What with the world coming to an end.”

“Why die on an empty stomach?” Seven asked. “And who knows what tomorrow may bring?”

Unwrapping the package, Pad muttered, “Now you sound like Kaytok. Pretty soon you’ll be telling us all that the Fourteenth Tribe’ll be coming back to collect us all up and take us to Gremadia.”

Seven had heard more than one of the Monorhans speak of a Fourteenth Tribe, usually in a manner that was meant to incite a cynical lack of belief, but this was the first mention of Gremadia.

“Gremadia?” she asked.

Pad picked at the blob of food. “Just a story some folks’ll tell you. Kaytok—his people were Fourteenth Tribe—he could tell you more if you like.”

“But Kaytok is not here,” Seven said. “You are. And neither of us appears to be doing anything of significant value.” She hated to admit this, but it was true. After Torres and Kaytok left for the shuttle, she had found appallingly little worth doing. Any adjustments she could make to Kaytok’s shield generator had been completed long ago, and she could discern nothing else of value from the sensor recordings the Dissenters had taken before she and Torres had inadvertently damaged the system. When they had the equipment and tools from the shuttle, they should be able to link into Kaytok’s device quickly and efficiently. Seven was pleased with this, satisfied with the work she had completed, but continued to experience an uncomfortable urge to return to the device and—she knew no other word—tinker with it. Sighing despondently, she attributed this to the influence of Torres’s psyche on her and attempted to remain calm. They would be back on Voyager soon and then they could be rid of each other.

“Do you know the story of Dagan?” Pad asked. “Picked up any of this along the way?”

“Assume I have not.”

“All right,” Pad said and settled down on his haunches.