Protocols Unknown: A Decision of The Stars

Two to Beam Out

"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.