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“The port is still active in order to allow us to send commands to the array’s systems.” She paused before adding, “Since I’m assuming we’ll want to leave the array at some point, I don’t think we should disengage it. I’m seeing limited command controls, including those that control the docking clamps and forcefield active in this bay.”

“Understood,” Janeway replied. “Leave it active for now.”

She turned her attention to the sensor displays. “Seven, life-form readings are still unclear. Take B’Elanna and go as quickly as you can to the Monorhan ship. If you encounter any of them, contact me immediately.”

“You do not trust me in a first-contact situation?” Seven asked innocently.

“It’s not that, Seven,” Janeway chided. “It’s a matter of protocol.”

Though obviously dissatisfied with Janeway’s curt response, Seven nodded dutifully and directed her steps toward the turbolift. Once Janeway had given B’Elanna her orders and set about overseeing repairs in her absence, she silently wondered whether or not it was a good idea to send B’Elanna and Seven into a potentially hostile situation again, so soon after their misadventures on Monorha. Brilliant as they both were, they usually mixed as well as matter and antimatter. In controlled amounts, they generated significant power, but it was a delicate balance. Not for the first time, she wondered how they had survived as a mini-collective.

Once she had assured herself that repairs were progressing at an appropriate pace, Janeway retreated to the solitude of her ready room. Replicating a cup of coffee, she took a moment to pause over the drawing that Naomi had left her. She made a mental note to check in with sickbay as soon as possible, then turned her attention to the schematics of the array’s power systems.

Prickling at the back of her mind was the coherent tetryon scan that had preceded the energy transfer. The Caretaker had used coherent tetryon technology to pull Voyager across seventy thousand light-years in the wink of an eye. The Key was generating a subspace dissonance field, possibly in response to the presence of another Nacene. All of the evidence at hand certainly pointed to the possibility that the Monorhans, like the Ocampa, might have been unwitting victims of Nacene manipulation. But any substantive understanding of the Nacene’s intent in designing the system and the miraculous array eluded her.

Her musings were interrupted by a call over the comm system from Neelix.

“What is it Neelix?” she asked.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Captain, but I believe there’s a problem with the Doctor.”

Chakotay, Tom, and Harry stood tensely as the ramp lowered from Voyager’s lower hull. They walked quickly down, once it had settled firmly on the floor of the docking bay. Chakotay and Tom were armed with compression rifles. They walked on either side of Harry, who carried his phaser in one hand and his tricorder in the other. Harry couldn’t help but feel an unreasonable sense of vulnerability. If his brief history aboard Voyager was any guide, he was certainly the crewman most likely to suffer a painful and violent death at the hands of an unknown hostile alien. But he had to acknowledge that this arrangement was the most practical. Chakotay and Tom were better shots than he was, and he would more efficiently gather as much sensor data as he could along the way. As tense as the knot in Harry’s stomach was when they stepped onto the solid plating of the docking bay’s deck, he was also certain that they were going to need as much information as possible at their disposal to safely leave the monstrous structure. Falling into step beside Tom and Chakotay, both dimly illuminated by the reassuring glow of the bay’s forcefield separating the atmosphere within from open space, he struggled to put his fears and doubts aside. Maybe this time it would be different.

“Welcome to Black Hole City,” Tom said quietly, as they started toward a ladder which climbed toward a cat-walk