"Captain," he said, voice sharp with urgency. "I have an idea."

Every head turned. Silence shifted into something electric.

Hope, just barely, beginning to stir.

Janeway stepped forward, her look steady. "Go ahead."

Icheb nodded once, eyes flicking to Seven before locking on Janeway again. "Astrea, Mezoti, the twins, and I—we came from the same cube. Our neural architecture was calibrated together. That means if I can get close enough to all three of these cubes at once, there's a chance I'll recognize her signature."

Chakotay raised an eyebrow.

"If she's alive, there will still be a pattern. A resonance," Icheb said. "One I'd recognize. One I was trained to hear."

Seven moved toward him slightly, cautious but curious. "And you believe you can do this from Voyager?"

"Not alone," he admitted. "But if we amplify my interface—use your link to stabilize it—I think we can create a neural tether strong enough to locate her. You can guide me through the corruption."

Seven studied him. Her silence stretched a moment too long.

"It will be dangerous," she said finally. "The connection could overload your cortical node."

"I know," Icheb said. "But it's worth the risk."

Tuvok stepped forward. "You believe proximity to the three cubes will allow triangulation."

"Exactly," Icheb said. "The signal is fragmented. But if I tune to her frequency—not through sensors, but through what remains of the Collective inside me—I can follow it."

Janeway nodded slowly.

"Prep it. Both of you. We'll keep Voyager here."

Seven straightened, already calculating. "We'll need time. At least an hour to modify the interface."

Janeway looked to the rest of the table. "Then we hold course. Everyone else—stand by."

Icheb didn't move at first. Then he exhaled, his shoulders just barely relaxing. Seven met his look—cool, but resolute.

The two of them turned and left together.

And behind them, for the first time in 6 days, the room began to breathe again.

Janeway remained by the table, her hands pressed flat against its surface.

"We've mapped the distance between all three cubes—each one is no more than ten light years apart. Picture a triangle. Cube Three sits at the strongest signal point, but we sit at the center—like Katskot. Connect the threads. Follow the resonance. That's how we find them."

She looked at Chakotay. "You have the bridge. If we're not back in four hours, send a team."

He nodded solemnly. "Aye, Captain."

Janeway turned to the others. "Tuvok, Seven, Icheb, Harry—you're with me. We depart on the Delta Flyer in thirty minutes."

Before she could continue, Tom Paris stepped forward.

"You're going to need the best pilot you've got," he said simply.

There was a flicker of something behind Janeway's eyes—then the barest nod.

"Then suit up, Lieutenant."

The room began to clear. Chakotay moved toward the exit to the bridge. Seven, Icheb, and Harry followed in quiet formation, already discussing loadout and modifications. Their words were low but precise—compression phaser rifles, internal dampeners, localized signal boosters.

Only Tom and B'Elanna lingered.

She watched him in silence.

"Don't be stupid," she said quietly.

He gave her a crooked smile. "I won't. I've got too much waiting for me."

She stepped closer, reached into her pocket, and pressed something into his hand. A tiny object—familiar and worn. He didn't look down. Just held it.

"Come back," she said.

He nodded. "Count on it."

—

Janeway stood outside the door to Samantha and Naomi's quarters, collecting herself.

Then she stepped in.

Samantha Wildman looked up from the viewport, her eyes hollow but alert. A warm mug of something untouched sat in her hands.

"We're readying a mission," Janeway said. "We have a plan."

Samantha's breath caught.

"We don't have them yet," Janeway said gently. "But we have a lead. And we are going to follow it."

Samantha stood slowly, setting the mug aside. "Do you really think they're still alive?"

Janeway stepped closer. "I have no reason to think they otherwise."

Samantha gave a tired smile. "She looks up to you. Naomi I mean"

"Well right now we should all be inspired by her," Janeway said softly. "And I have no intention of coming back without them."

The door chimed again, and Neelix stepped in, his expression anxious but hopeful. He held a container of something warm and fragrant.

"I thought you might need a little something before departure," he said to Janeway, then looked at Samantha. "And maybe someone to sit with, while you wait."

Samantha's eyes welled just slightly, but she nodded.

"Thank you."

Janeway gave Neelix a look—grateful, trusting—and turned back to Samantha.

"I promise, we'll do everything we can."

Samantha touched her arm briefly. "I know you will."

Janeway nodded, then stepped out, leaving the two of them in the quiet, together.

And then she went to finish what she started.

Janeway entered the launch bay, boots echoing against the deck. The Delta Flyer loomed ahead, its hull gleaming under soft lighting. Seven and Icheb were already aboard, running interface diagnostics. Tom stood at the console near the boarding ramp, tapping through flight readiness.

She paused halfway up the ramp, then tapped her comm badge.

"Janeway to Lieutenant Torres. Report to the launch bay immediately."

There was a pause—then B'Elanna's voice crackled back.

"On my way, Captain"

Tom turned. "Change of plans?"

Janeway nodded. "We're going in with two ships. I want you with me, seven, and Icheb on the Flyer. Harry and B'Elanna—take the Sacajawea. Stay close. Monitor from outside. If things go wrong, I want a second a second exit plan."

Tom gave a low whistle. "Smart move."

Janeway met his eyes. "Let's make sure we don't need it."

The launch bay doors opened, and B'Elanna entered at a brisk pace, pulling her engineering jacket closed as she approached.

"Captain?"

Janeway turned to her. "You and Harry will pilot the Sacajawea. Follow our trajectory and stay sharp. We'll maintain an open but silent channel unless there's an emergency."

B'Elanna gave a firm nod. "Understood." Then, after a beat, she added, "We could deploy a localized dampening field inside each ship—mask our comms interference without severing the connection between them. Keep the signal stable, but hidden. It'll require power redistribution and subspace phase tuning, but I can do it on the fly."

She looked toward Tom just once—briefly—then turned to Paris and walked him through the dampening field's routing adjustments. "Keep the subspace channel narrowband and route power through the secondary EPS taps. If the field fluctuates, you'll need to reroute manually."

Tom gave her a small salute. "I've got it."

Only then did she move toward the Sacajawea's boarding ramp without another word.

The team split—Janeway, Tom, Seven, and Icheb boarding the Flyer; B'Elanna and Harry heading for the Sacajawea.

The bay thrummed as engines came online. Lights shifted from standby to active. The deck shuddered slightly beneath their feet as both vessels powered up.

"Delta Flyer and Sacajawea ready for launch," came Tom's voice over the internal channel.

"Voyager to launch control," Chakotay replied from the bridge. "You are cleared. Bring our girls home."

Both ships lifted in tandem, rising in perfect sync. The launch bay doors split open, revealing the waiting stars beyond.

And then they were gone—two bright sparks vanishing into the stars.

Space was quiet—unnaturally so. No subspace echoes. No plasma trails. Just three derelict Borg cubes floating like broken teeth.

The Delta Flyer and Sacajawea held position at the center, hovering in the stillness between.

Inside the Flyer, the console blinked green.

Seven's voice cut through the tension.

Icheb leaned over the console, his voice steady but low. "The neural interface is holding. Seven's enhancements stabilized the link—we're getting clear signal separation now."

He tapped twice. The screen pulsed with a slow, synchronized waveform.

"Cube Three," he said, pointing. "That's the one. Her pattern resonates strongest there. Astrea is alive, that's where she is."

Seven glanced at him, then at the readout, and gave a small nod of agreement.

Tom glanced back from the helm. "Then that's where we go."

Janeway nodded once. "Inform Harry and B'Elanna."

Seven tapped her console. "B'Elanna, we have a match. Cube Three."

"Understood," B'Elanna's voice came through, clear and steady. "We're right behind you."

Tom's fingers danced across the helm. "Coordinates locked. Engaging warp seven."

With a sudden burst of light, both ships jumped to warp, streaking through the void in perfect tandem. Stars blurred around them as they cut across space.

Moments later, they emerged near Cube Three—the one pulsing faintly in the dark, the one holding the signal. Their engines quieted as they dropped back into formation, gliding forward into final position.

Janeway looked to Icheb. "Are you ready?"

Icheb glanced at the waveform again, hesitation flickering in his eyes. "Captain... if I go over there and something disrupts the signal, we could lose it. I think I should stay here. Maintain the link."

Janeway turned slightly toward him. "No, Icheb. You're staying here. Watch the patterns."

"You're not coming into the cube," Janeway said. Her voice was firm, but not unkind. "We need you here. If anything changes—if her pattern shifts—we'll need you to track it in real time."

She turned to the helm. "Paris, run him through energizing protocols. He'll keep the signal alive from here."

Icheb looked between her and Seven, clearly struggling with the decision, but he nodded slowly.

Janeway exchanged a look with Seven. The former drone gave a subtle nod of agreement.

Janeway tapped her comm badge. "Janeway to Sacajawea. B'Elanna, beam Ensign Kim to the Flyer. We'll need him with us."

"Stand by," B'Elanna responded.

A moment later, Harry materialized in a shimmer of light, already adjusting the strap on his compression rifle.

Tuvok stepped forward, his own weapon slung across his back, calm and ready.

Janeway gave him a nod. "You'll lead the tactical sweep. Standard containment pattern—nothing gets past us."

"Understood," Tuvok said.

Icheb moved to the transporter controls. "Coordinates locked. I'll maintain the link from here and monitor all biosigns."

Janeway slung her rifle across her shoulder and looked at the others. "This is a recovery mission. We find them and get out. No distractions."

"Energizing," Icheb said, fingers moving across the panel.

In a flash of blue light, the away team beamed out—compression rifles ready, nerves taut. And the Delta Flyer fell quiet behind them.

The cube was dim. Cold. The walls whispered with dormant energy—low, pulsing hums that vibrated through their boots.

Janeway tapped her tricorder. "Still nothing strong. Trace biosigns only."

Seven and Chakotay peeled off toward the power junctions. Tom watched them go, then followed Janeway and Harry down a different corridor, their steps muffled on the grated floor.

Every shadow felt too deep. Every step too loud.

After 20 minutes, Harry stopped.

His tricorder chirped once—quiet, but sharp. He froze, staring at the reading like he wasn't sure if it was real.

"Captain," he said. Barely more than a whisper.

Janeway's pulse spiked. She stepped beside him, scanning quickly. The signal was weak, erratic, but there. Ktarian-Human hybrid. Small. Nearby.

They moved forward in silence, each footstep echoing just a little too loud against the grating. The corridor narrowed, twisted. Wires dangled like vines. The cube groaned—metal straining against itself.

And then—behind a shattered alcove wall, half-hidden in flickering shadow—movement.

A small form, curled into itself. Thin arms wrapped around a blanket. Dirty. Pale. Watching them.

"Captain," he said. Quiet. Urgent.

Janeway moved beside him and followed his look. Behind a fractured wall partition—curled into herself, eyes wide—was Naomi Wildman.

She was clutching a blanket. Astrea's.

Janeway moved slowly, lowering her tricorder, crouching in front of the girl.

"Naomi," she said gently. "It's me."

Naomi looked up—saw her—and flew into Janeway's arms.

She sobbed. Shaking. Her voice broke. "I haven't seen her. Not in hours. They took her. I tried. I'm sorry."

Janeway held her tightly, one hand around Naomi's back, the other resting against her head. "You did everything right," she whispered. "You kept her safe as long as you could."

"I tried. I really tried."

"You did more than try," Janeway said. Her voice cracked, heavy with grief and awe.

She looked at Harry over Naomi's shoulder. He nodded, lips pressed into a firm line. Ready.

Janeway tapped her comm badge, her voice trembling but clear.

"B'Elanna—two to beam out. Naomi and Ensign Kim."

Naomi jolted. Her fingers tightened around Janeway's jacket like she was bracing for a storm. "No—I won't leave her—"

Janeway pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. "Naomi, listen to me. You've already saved her more times than we can count. You made it this far. You survived. You're brave, and you're strong, and now it's our turn."

Naomi shook her head. "But what if—what if she's scared? What if she wakes up and I'm not there?"

Janeway's own eyes shimmered. "She'll know you kept going for her. She'll know you fought. And she'll know I'm not leaving without her."

Harry stepped forward without being asked. He gently scooped Naomi into his arms, careful not to startle her. She didn't fight him—not really—but she clung to Janeway's jacket until the last possible second, her fingers slipping away like the end of a tether.

As the shimmer of the beam began to wrap around them, Naomi reached toward Janeway one last time, a final plea bursting from her chest.

"Please—please find her."

Then they were gone.

Janeway didn't move at first. Her eyes stayed on the spot Naomi had disappeared from, her breath still catching in the echo of that final plea.

Then she straightened. Her spine lifted, her shoulders squared. The grief didn't vanish—but it folded back into resolve.

Paris stepped up beside her. "Ready, Captain?"

She met his eyes, calm and cold as starlight. "We finish this. Astrea's still here. Somewhere."

The cube vibrated with a deeper hum now, the walls tightening around them like a held breath.

Weapons raised, hearts set—they moved forward, deeper into the dark.

The cube vibrated with a deeper hum now, the walls tightening around them like a held breath.

Weapons raised, hearts set—they moved forward, deeper into the dark.

The corridor twisted into a circular chamber lined with blackened conduits. Janeway tapped her badge.

"Janeway to Tuvok. Report."

Static, then Tuvok's voice: "No biological traces in our quadrant. No indication of recent movement. Seven concurs."

Janeway exhaled. "We're approaching the central Plexius. Stand by to converge. We'll regroup there."

"Acknowledged," came Tuvok's reply.

Minutes later, they emerged into the heart of the structure—a cavernous space, all skeletal beams and flickering light. Tuvok and Seven stepped in from the opposite side, their expressions grim.

"Nothing," Seven said. "No drones. No infrastructure. Just silence."

Janeway gave a tight nod. "Same here. We found Naomi, but no trace of Astrea."

Before anymore was said, the floor beneath them shimmered.

A transporter beam—unannounced and unexpected.

The warp field hummed around them, tension coiled so tight the silence felt like pressure in the air, as if the ship itself was holding its breath.

Janeway stood behind Icheb's chair, her arms crossed, jaw set tight. The faint reflection of starlight flickered in the viewpane behind her, but her eyes stayed locked on the boy at the console. Beside her, Seven stood with equal weight—shoulders straight, hands at her sides—but her body was braced. Not angry. Not yet. But close.

"Icheb," Janeway said, her voice low and clipped. "You just beamed us out without authorization."

"That was a direct override of protocol," Seven added, sharper, though not unkind.

Icheb didn't flinch. He kept his eyes forward, back straight, fingers poised over the console. "Let me speak," he said evenly. "And you will understand."

He turned slowly, gaze landing on Seven first.

"I did what you asked," Icheb said. "I watched. I followed the pattern. And it moved—she moved."

Icheb nodded. "We already had the connection. Before you entered the cube, we locked in the link. While you were inside, I monitored the pattern—traced her resonance as it started to shift. I did what you asked. I watched. And I saw it move."

He adjusted the display, revealing a shift in energy patterns, a new resonance blooming like a pulse in the dark.

"She's here. They moved her." Icheb stated as he pointed to the 1st cube in sequence.