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Janeway checked the ship’s chronometer and logs. It coincided almost precisely with Neelix’s estimation. In fact, the Doctor’s program had been altered and the backup module activated just a few seconds before Janeway had left sickbay.

Given the fact that only Neelix, Ensign Wildman, and herself were present and conscious at that time, and that none of them would have had a motive or vested interest in damaging the one person on board who could save Naomi’s life, the only other likely suspect was Phoebe. But Phoebe didn’t know the first thing about holographic programming. Something like this was far beyond her rudimentary skills. She recalled the first time she had introduced Phoebe to Master da Vinci, one of Janeway’s favorite simulations. Phoebe had been amazed and impressed with the depth and reality Janeway had achieved and had immediately set about studying with the Renaissance master.

No she hadn’t.

There it was again. That strange voice of doubt that had been pestering Janeway almost every time she talked with or thought about her sister.

“Captain,” a soft voice interrupted her thoughts.

Across the room, Naomi had regained consciousness.

Both Janeway and Neelix walked quickly to her side as her mother stirred awake and smiled with relief.

“How are you feeling, Naomi?” the captain asked gently.

“I have to speak to you… alone,” Naomi said.

Janeway cast a questioning glance toward the others, then nodded as they all moved away from the biobed. This seemed to cost Samantha dearly, but Neelix quickly put a protective arm around her shoulders, whispering silent assurances.

Janeway bent closer to Naomi to limit the exertions the child would have to make in continuing their conversation.

“What is it?” she asked.

Naomi’s eyes were alert. She did not seem in any way deranged or incapacitated by her ordeal or the medications the Doctor had given her to relieve any residual pain. Nonetheless, Janeway found it difficult to accept the child’s next words.

“Captain,” Naomi whispered solemnly, “there was a monster in the mess hall.”

Harry and Chakotay paused for a confused second after Tom disappeared before their very eyes.

“Where did he go?” Chakotay was the first to give voice to thought.

Harry turned first to his tricorder.

“I’ve got him, Commander,” he said with definite relief. “He’s in the other ring. And he’s within a few meters of Tuvok’s signal.”

“The system is obviously automated,” Chakotay theorized. “It’s probably set to transport directly to a similar area in the other ring. Tuvok must have made it this far. He might have transferred to the other ring accidentally.”

“Or, he might have been trying to reach one of the medical bays situated there,” Harry added.

“I’ll go next,” Chakotay offered. “Confirm my transport, and then follow me,” he ordered, stepping toward the first pair of alcoves.

“Yes, sir,” Harry replied.

As Chakotay vanished in a second flash of light, Harry gave his tricorder a cursory glance to confirm that the commander’s life signs were still present, and with a deep breath and a silent hope that they would not be too late to save Tuvok, stepped into the path of the alien transporter.

A second later, Harry found himself in the middle of one of the most horrifying scenes he had ever witnessed.

The room was easily a hundred meters wide and at least half again that high. It was lit by a faint blue glow and filled, floor to ceiling, with the skeletons of countless dead Monorhans. Unseeing eyes peered at him from every corner. Many had been piled facedown, and from some of their backs the strange secondary arms indicative of female Monorhans hung lifeless, like broken insect wings.

Months earlier, Voyager had been boarded and briefly occupied by a pack of Hirogen hunters. They had used the ship’s holotechnology to create brutal scenarios used to stalk the crew over and over again for pure pleasure. Time and again Harry’s friends and comrades had been placed in these grisly fabricated realities, hunted to near death, revived