Cat’s-eye

By Morticia

Part Twelve

"Chakotay," Tom crooned, moving towards the bed with bright eyes and a soft, happy smile.

Chakotay gulped heavily as he watched Tom pull at his uniform fastenings with his long, elegant fingers then peel off his jacket with sensuous grace. In his uniform or even in his usual choice of loose, comfortable casual clothes, Tom had always appeared a little too thin to Chakotay. It had given him an air of fragility that had both appealed to Chakotay and repelled him, because it cast doubt in the older man's mind of exactly *what* he wanted from Tom. Did he want him as a lover or did he just want to father him in the way he unconsciously fathered B'Elanna?

Yet, the body now so closely hugged by the tight undershirt wasn't *thin* at all. It was whipcord lean, perhaps, but every line caressed by the clinging fabric was clearly defined muscle. Chakotay tried to remain detached as he pondered Tom's physique, judging him as his Commanding Officer rather than as a lover would. Never mentally a team player anyway, Tom's body also seemed designed for solitary sports. A long-distance runner rather than a sprinter, a swimmer rather than a football player, Tom was built for endurance rather than speed and gymnastics rather than brute strength.

Chakotay choked on that last thought, as all illusions that he was in control of his body's reactions to Tom fled with the very obvious rearing of his cock from his groin. He flushed and cringed at the impulse that had made him tell Tuvok to leave him restrained. Tied naked on the bed, he had no-where to hide, no way to conceal his true feelings for the pilot, no way to even pretend he didn't want what he had tried so hard to refuse.

Part of him knew his decision had been right. Poor Tom, as the helpless puppet of the Grrchek, was so stripped of emotional defenses and so vulnerable to Chakotay's possible rejection that Chakotay's nakedness and physical vulnerability simply brought the pair of them to some level of equality. Furthermore, it gave Tom the only control he could possibly have of the situation (if control could even be considered an appropriate adjective to describe the behavior of someone who was being possessed by an alien). Still, even in this, Chakotay doubted his own motivations. Was this really an attempt by himself to balance the situation, or merely a way to avert guilt from himself? Afterwards, when Tom looked back on this moment and remembered what happened, Tom couldn't accuse him of taking advantage of him if he had simply lain back and allowed himself to be assaulted.

Chakotay groaned, his temples beginning to throb with an impending headache while his groin throbbed in sympathetic anticipation. His groan became a strangled moan as Tom took that moment to continue his sensuous striptease by peeling the under-tunic off to reveal a pale washboard of firm muscle. It was strange that although Tom lacked the bulk that he himself carried, Tom's musculature was perhaps even more clearly defined and, so, Chakotay gained one definitive answer for his previous self-doubts. It wasn't Tom's vulnerability that appealed to him, after all. It was Tom's strength. It was the promise of power concealed in that lean frame. It was the idea of two hard, muscular bodies crashing together like the meeting of two storm-fronts and then erupting into a violent, electric dance.

Then Tom kicked off his shoes, shimmied out of his pants and stepped forward buck-naked, proudly revealing a cock that was as long and elegant as his fingers. 

/And hopefully as talented/ Chakotay thought wildly, then blushed.

"You're so beautiful," Tom purred, lying down on the bed next to Chakotay and rubbing his body sensuously against Chakotay's side.

"Tom, I don't think…" Chakotay began, as his conscience insisted that he gave a last ditch effort to prevent his ravishment.

"Don't think," Tom suggested, then smiled widely, opened his mouth and nose-dived into Chakotay's groin.

#~#~#~#

Torn between exasperation and amusement, Chakotay looked up from the data padd he was reading and looked over at the figure sprawled on his couch. There was no mistaking the impatience in the leg that was hanging over the arm, kicking incessantly at the fabric that draped its side, or the fingers drumming a tattoo on the denim-clad knees, so Tom's occasional low groans were unnecessary sound effects to demonstrate his boredom. Even so, after a week of being confined in Chakotay's seemingly increasingly small quarters, Chakotay was surprised Tom wasn't literally crawling up the walls, so he took pity on Tom's misery even though he knew he'd probably regret it.

"Bored?" he asked softly.

Tom jerked to attention, swinging his feet to the floor, sitting up in the couch and plastering a totally false smile on his face.

"No," he lied.

Chakotay sighed, although he was relieved that Tom seemed to have finally learnt not to answer the question with a suggestive leer. Even Tom had finally accepted that they couldn't spend *all* their time in bed. The problem was there wasn't a hell of a lot else for him to do in Chakotay's quarters. 

"How about giving me a hand?" Chakotay suggested.

A spark of genuine interest crossed Tom's face and he jumped to his feet and hurried over to Chakotay's desk. He picked up one of the discarded data padds, scanned it quickly and then his face fell and he let the padd drop again.

"Not my kind of thing," he mumbled, a faint blush staining his cheeks.

Chakotay frowned in thought then patted his lap.

"Sit down and we'll look at it together," he suggested.

As he expected, the offer of a cuddle more than compensated for Tom's fear of embarrassing himself and the long-limbed pilot squirmed happily onto his lap, throwing one arm around Chakotay's shoulders and using the other to pick the data padd up again.

"Do you understand it at all?" Chakotay asked gently.

"Sure," Tom agreed. "It's the schematics of the gel-pak memory buffers."

"And you can read the equations?"

"Yeah," Tom agreed.

"So why don't you think you can help me?"

"'Cos the only reason I can read it is my link with the others and if they could work out the problem they wouldn't have asked *you* to look at it for them, would they?" Tom asked reasonably. "I mean there's a hell of a difference between being able to read ingredients and being able to bake a cake."

"A cake?" Chakotay repeated thoughtfully. "It's a good analogy, Tom. Sometimes no matter how many facts are at your fingertips, its not always easy to mix them in the right order to obtain the desired results. Take the Grrchek. It can reproduce us any parts we desire but the extent of the damage is so great that we aren't even sure what to ask for first. The problem with Voyager is that it's a prototype vessel and not even B'Elanna fully understands how the bio systems interlink with the mechanical so trying to replace organic parts with lithium-based replacements is causing a few headaches."

"The problem," Tom muttered under his breath, "is that the whole thing is ass-backwards."

"What do you mean?" Chakotay asked.

"Nothing," Tom mumbled, "just thinking aloud."

"So think aloud some more," Chakotay encouraged.

"Nah, what do I know?" 

Chakotay pulled out his trump card.

"I just like the sound of your voice, Tom. Listening to it makes me happy. You *do* want to make me happy, don't you?"

Tom nearly fell off his lap as he squirmed to reassure Chakotay just how happy he wanted to make him. Despite his best intentions, Chakotay sighed and gave into the oral assault on his neck for a few blissful seconds. Then he gently pushed Tom's mouth away from the erogenous zone at his collar-bone and cleared his throat loudly.

"You were saying?"

"Well," Tom began nervously. "I'm no engineer and I flunked more classes than I even bothered turning up at, but these schematics suck."

"How so?" Chakotay asked gently.

"The whole system is based on a whole load of totally unnecessary repetitions. I mean, look at this," he said, pointing at the conduits between decks 5 through 2. "Most of the data here is just running around in loops, repeating the same operation a dozen times over. Backing up is one thing but this…well, it's just careless design. If I saw a holoprogram that worked the same way as this ship, I'd say it was either designed by a team of people who never sat down and talked to each other or that it was written by someone who worked it module by module instead of as an entirety."

"As I understand it, the ship was designed so that all decks could operate completely independently in a crisis," Chakotay replied thoughtfully. "The idea is that whichever deck survives a calamity, accessing a terminal on that deck would give you complete control of the ship as long as you have the right access codes."

"Sure," Tom agreed. "But all you actually need to achieve that is for data to be stored simultaneously on all decks, not for it to be processed there. The way the system is set up, Voyager repeats the same operations time and time again. It drains memory, uses far too much power and means we've got kilometers of gel paks essentially wasted. It wouldn't be worth cutting and changing the system if it was working but since we have a clean slate here it would make more sense to just throw the whole gel-pak idea away and replace it with Borg-type conduits."

"So you're saying that instead of trying to replace the current system, we replace it with something more efficient that does the same job?" Chakotay asked.

"No," Tom replied sadly. "I'm just telling you why my advice is no use to you. I obviously don't *really* understand what I'm looking at. To me this just looks like a badly designed holo-program. If it was as simple to put right as *I* think, no-one would have designed it this way in the first place, would they?"

"Know what I think?" Chakotay asked.

"What?" Tom asked cautiously.

"I think sometimes that people spend too long looking for complicated answers to simple questions. I'm going to put forward your suggestion to B'Elanna and Seven and see what they make of it."

"Fun," Tom mumbled. "They'll make fun of it."

"I hope not," Chakotay replied mildly, "since I'll be signing *my* name to the suggestion."

"You will?" Tom asked, blinking in confusion.

"That way they'll take the idea seriously," Chakotay explained. "Of course, when it works, I'll admit it was your idea."

"You think it'll work?" 

"Spirits, Tom. I've seen your holoprograms, remember? I think you've been put down so many times in your life that you've lost the ability to have *any* faith in yourself, but the two things even you have to agree on are that you can fly like an angel on opiates and you can write holoprograms so lifelike that the crew literally fall in love with your characters. When we discovered Sandrine's had been lost with the wormhole damage, several of the crew went into genuine mourning. So I think that if *you* believe Voyager has a design flaw, we ought to take it seriously."

Tom looked at him in awe, tears brimming in his eyes.

"I *so* love you, Chakotay," he whispered. "You make me feel so good about myself. It's like knowing you love me makes me at least want to be smart for you."

"All you need to be for me is yourself, Tom Paris," Chakotay replied, wrapping a hand around Tom's head and pulling his face down to rest against his chest. "Feel my heart beating?" he asked softly.

"Yeah," Tom mumbled.

"It's yours, Tom. Whatever else happens, remember that."

~#~#~#~

"They say this is the way to a man's heart," Tom moaned.

"Isn't that supposed to be his stomach?" Chakotay asked
.
"Exactly, 'cos if you fuck me any harder my stomach is where you're gonna end up," Tom sniggered.

Chakotay froze mid-stroke and rose up enough to peer at Tom's face.

"Am I hurting you?" 

Instead of answering, Tom just crossed his ankles behind Chakotay's head and tried to pull him back down.

"Tom?"

"Sheesh, Chak. Don't make me beg. You *know* I like it hard and fast and furious and…."

"But does it *hurt*?" Chakotay demanded.

Two spots of color appeared on Tom's cheeks and his eyes glistened angrily, the pupils elongating with the Grrchek's frustration, but Tom gave an obviously reluctant nod.

"A little bit," he agreed. "I'm kinda sore."

Chakotay ignored Tom's wail of protest and carefully eased himself out of the younger man, then shuffled backwards between Tom's open legs until he could see the red swollen flesh for himself. What he saw was enough to make his own erection collapse with shame.

"You're not *sore*, Tom," he growled, guilt making his voice harsh. "You're *raw*. Why the hell didn't you say something? Wait here while I get the regenerator."

Tom moved like quick-silver, twisting in the bed until he was on his knees with his hands clasped around Chakotay's biceps to prevent him rising off the bed. 

"Please, Chak. I need you. I need this. I don't mind the pain."

Chakotay swirled to face him, effortlessly breaking free of Tom's hold so that he could look into Tom's eyes, Tom's solid black *Grrchek* eyes.

"I've warned you, you bastard," Chakotay snarled, his face infusing with fury. "I may have to put up with you living in Tom's head, but I'm fucked if I'll stand by and let you hurt him. Stand down, give Tom control again and let me talk to *him*."

For a moment, Tom's eyes stayed as black as night then the pupils retracted back to cat-like slits in ocean-blue pools.

"Chak?" Tom asked cautiously, blinking worriedly at the look of fury on his lover's face.

"You okay, honey?" Chakotay asked.

"Sure," Tom replied with an easy smile that turned to a small grimace as he shifted on the mattress. "But I think we overdid it, stud."

"You in pain?"

Tom bent forwards and kissed Chakotay hungrily before sinking against him with a soft sigh and nuzzling into his neck.

"My ass feels like you've turned it inside out," he confessed, then sniggered quietly. "That's not a complaint, by the way."

"It's not?" Chakotay asked, blinking back guilty tears.

"It's more of a compliment," Tom confirmed with a wide grin. "Only, I think I need a breather now."

"Not to mention a regenerator?" Chakotay suggested.

"Now that's why I love you," Tom sighed happily and sank back on the bed, confident Chakotay would look after him.

~#~#~#~#~

"Well, there's good news and bad news," Joe Carrey said, with a nervous twitch of his shoulders.

"How so?" Chakotay asked.

Joe gave a slight but pointed look at the closed bedroom door.

"He's asleep," Chakotay assured him.

Joe nodded, sighed and relaxed a little.

"You look good in yourself, Commander," Joe commented. "We've all missed you these past weeks."

"Well, I can't say I'm ecstatic about being trapped in my quarters 24/7 myself, but at least Tuvok has finally allowed me to have visitors even if I'm still not allowed to go out."

"Hmmm. That's probably related to the *good* news," Joe commented. "Ever since Tom moved in with you, the rest of the ship has calmed down. All the other hosts are back at work and working happily, which means the ship is getting repaired twice as fast as we originally predicted. B'Elanna is pretty inspired. She's not only repairing, she's improving systems."

"The Borg memory circuits are working?"

"Unbelievably well. Once B'Elanna gave in and agreed to completely dump Voyager's gel-paks, she and Seven came up with a far more efficient way to move data. It's based on holo-technology, of all things, and the benefit is that since Voyager's holodec systems have always worked independently of our main power-supply, we're getting all the computers up and running well in advance of the warp core coming back on line. I hate to admit it, but the way the hosts interact with each other helps. They have a Borg-like understanding of each other's thought processes and it seems to make everyone work with Borg-like efficiency."

"So the sexual imperative has faded?" Chakotay asked.

Joe blushed deeply.

"Not exactly, but the hosts seem perfectly content to restrict their liaisons to other members of the crew and since you've…" he hesitated and blushed even deeper. "Um…since you've been more careful about *when* you sleep with Tom, it's easier to establish a routine."

Chakotay turned a peculiar shade of dark bronze himself as he recalled Tuvok's 'friendly' advice about restricting his contact with Tom to times when the instantaneous backlash to the other hosts wasn't going to be so publicly disruptive .

"So," he said, with an attempt at nonchalance, "no more wild orgies on the bridge or in engineering?"

Joe did a double-take, then exploded into laughter.

"It was a truly unforgettable experience," he acknowledged ruefully. "I'm just praying that B'Elanna doesn't break my neck when she finally comes back to her senses."

"You think she'll be mad at you?" Chakotay asked carefully.

"I dunno," Joe shrugged. "She's a fair person. She'll understand. All I kind of regret is that I'm damned sure she won't want to carry on our relationship when the symbiont leaves her and that's kind of pathetic isn't it? Particularly considering the fact that whenever we make love she thinks it's *you* she's with. But I'm a married man. If everything goes right we might get home still. What would I do if B'Elanna *did* want to carry on? It's complicated all ways round."

Chakotay smiled sadly and nodded his agreement.

"What's the bad news?"

"There's an increase in solar flare activity. It doesn't look like we'll get the three months we were hoping for, so it's just as well the repairs are moving along so well at the moment."

"How long have we got?"

"It's hard to pin-point exactly, but Seven reckons that we'll be lucky if we get another month. If we aren't ready to move by the time that flare hits us, we won't be going anywhere period."

"Shit."

"Which, kind of, brings me to the *other* bad news. Ten more members of the crew have accepted symbionts in the last two days."

"WHAT?"

"I know. Mr. Tuvok is as pissed about it as you are, Sir."

"Why the hell did they do it?"

"They *say* they just wanted to help speed up repairs."

"But you think it's more than that?"

"It's just weird, you know? All ten are single people, low rank, no lasting relationships, no particular job skills. I think, or at least I suspect, they were just attracted to the idea of being part of the Grrchek collective. They've *certainly* become very popular since they did it."

"Like the Savernan," Chakotay whispered.

"Sir?"

"The Grrchek started to repair the Savernan ship too. It never finished the job because, before the repairs were completed, the crew had all decided they'd rather stay."

"As I understand it, it's not an option though. Except for you and Tom, no one else gets to live in the wall after we've gone."

"Tom won't be joining me in the wall," Chakotay growled.

"Oh," Joe exclaimed, a little bewildered by Chakotay's vehemence. "But the Savernan will be thrown out, won't they? And anyone with a symbiont now will lose it."

"Yes."

"So it doesn't matter whether the crew want to stay, does it? Only you and your companion will get that choice."

"Yeah," Chakotay muttered. "Only we get that 'choice'."

~#~#~#~#~

"Did you know there are 4327 known species of silicon based lifeforms in the Universe and not one of the poor bastards has got a dick?" Tom asked, then took a rapturous bite of pizza.

"Really?" Chakotay asked, sipping at his tea carefully since Tom had a distressing habit of saying *truly* shocking things whenever Chakotay had a mouthful of hot liquid.

"'Course, they don't know what they're missing, so I guess they don't mind."

"Hmmmn…"

"I have to go to the Bridge tomorrow."

"What?" Chakotay spluttered.

"The navigation systems are back on line and it's time for the conn. to be tested. The Grrchek needs my assistance."

"Since the Grrchek has taken up permanent residence in your head, I'm surprised there's anything about you it doesn't already know."

"There's a difference between theory and practice, Chak. Besides, a lot of what I do I don't know."

"I don't understand."

"I mean my hands know what to do when they touch the helm, but my brain usually follows a step or two behind."

"You fly more by instinct than by training," Chakotay agreed thoughtfully.

"Hmmmm," Tom mumbled, then looked sideways at Chakotay. "Will you…I mean…well…will you still love me when I'm stupid again? I mean, when the Grrchek doesn't have symbionts in smart people like B'El and the Captain, *I* won't be smart any more and you never liked me *before*, did you? Maybe you won't want me when I'm just me again."

Chakotay closed his eyes in pain and took a deep breath.

"Tom, listen to me. I have *never* considered you stupid. Different people have different skills. You have a talent for flying that I envy, you have a clear grasp of common sense that evades people whose skill with mathematics supposedly makes them intelligent, you have a spirit for life that embraces everyone around you and if anyone is too blinkered to see the value of you then they are poorer for their blindness. I not only liked you before you became a host but I…I loved you too. The only reason I never told you was that by the time I finally saw you clearly, Kathryn had already stolen your heart."

"Kathryn?" Tom asked, his eyes wide with obvious disbelief.

"Trust me on this, Tom. You *were* in love with her."

"I was?" Tom asked, blinking with astonishment. "Why? Why the hell would I want *her* instead of you?"

Chakotay sighed.

"The point I'm trying to make is that no matter what happens in the future, whatever else you remember when Voyager is repaired, never forget *this* Tom. I *do* love you. I always have and I always will."

Tom's eyes sparkled as he struggled to contain his happiness at Chakotay's words.

"So…so, um, you won't…."

"Won't what?"

"Want someone else while I'm gone?" Tom asked nervously.

"Gone?"

"Tomorrow," Tom whispered. "The Grrchek says I have to ask you if you…if you…"

"No," Chakotay snapped, then his anger faded at the look of total relief on Tom's face. "No, honey. I told you I loved you and I meant it. This might be about sex for the symbionts but it's more than that for me. "

"Then you'll take *me* into the wall with you?" Tom asked, his face bright with hope.

"Never. Do you hear me, Tom? Does that bastard inside you hear me? I will NEVER take you into the wall with me but, until that day comes, I swear that only you will share my bed."

~#~#~#~#~

"No," Tom whimpered, backing away until his spine was digging into the cold metal of the corridor wall. In a solid semi-circle the hosts approached him, their eyes flaring with black fire.

/Please/ he wailed silently to his own symbiont. /Please don't let them do this. Please/

He was so certain the Grrchek would protect him, if only to prevent Chakotay's distress, that he was too surprised by the first blow to even duck. Then, as fists pummeled his face, as knuckles sank into his stomach, as boots struck his lower legs then his ribs as a fierce jab into his kidneys sent him to his knees, he gave up all hope of rescue. Tom had learned in Auckland that it was futile and dangerous to fight a mob attack. So he just curled up in a ball, drawing his knees up to protect his groin, wrapping his arms around his face and head, and still the pain exploded around him like fireworks.

~#~#~#~#~

"I said I didn't want a replacement," Chakotay spat, as Tuvok and Greg materialized in his quarters.

Tuvok nodded, looked a little uncomfortable and then sighed softly.

"Unfortunately it's become unavoidable. Lieutenant Paris is in sickbay. The Doctor says it will take several days before he is well enough to participate in any sexual activity and the Grrchek, through Mr. Ayala, has explained that it cannot guarantee control of its hosts if you remain celibate."

"Tom's in Sickbay? Why? What's happened to him? TELL ME."

"Your separation from Mr. Paris, however temporary, caused a number of hosts to lose control of themselves. They made several attempts to break into your quarters, attempts that were unsuccessful due to my new improved security measures. Frustrated by their inability to reach you, they appear to have decided that Mr. Paris was to blame for their distress. They intercepted him on his return from the Bridge to your quarters and assaulted him."

"How badly?" Chakotay asked, his eyes almost Grrchek-black with anger.

"Four broken ribs, breaks in his collar-bone, a tibia, both wrists, nose and jaw. Fractures to two ribs, left ventricle, pelvis, right ankle. Shattered eardrum, bruised kidneys, ruptured spleen…." Tuvok droned mechanically.

"Spirits," Chakotay gasped, then surged to his feet and fled to the bathroom.

Listening to the sound of violent vomiting within, Tuvok turned to Ayala.

"I believe the term is 'You've overplayed your hand'," he commented emotionlessly. 

"Explain," Ayala demanded, although it was clear to the Vulcan that only the Grrchek was present.

"Whatever co-operation you were receiving from the Commander, you have now lost it. In harming Mr. Paris, you have made yourself an enemy."

"Chakotay merely needs to understand that I will not be played with," the Grrchek replied easily. "I can feed off *any* strong emotion that he feels. While I find sex to be a most pleasurable experience to share with him, his current distress is almost equally entertaining."

"And hate?" Chakotay asked, from the doorway, his face almost white with anger.

"Oh, yes. Hate is a strong and interesting emotion," the Grrchek agreed. "As is worry. Your concern for Tom is most…pleasurable too."

"Really?" Chakotay asked, almost pleasantly, and then a mask of placidity slipped down over his previously enraged features.

"What are you doing?" the Grrchek demanded.

Chakotay smiled unpleasantly.

"The real beauty of a disciplined mind," he replied conversationally, "is that while I don't have Tuvok's enviable control over my emotions, I certainly have the ability to control the depth of my feelings. Most strong emotions are like mental shouts, drowning out everything else with their uncontrollable volume. I can't stop my feelings, but I *can* reduce them to mere whispers. Not so entertaining now, am I?"

"You've really pissed it off now," Greg cried, his face twisting in agony as the Grrchek symbiont violently wrenched itself from the forefront of his mind so that it could concentrate on conferring with its other parts.

"Evidently," Chakotay replied so coldly that Tuvok stared at him with both surprise and respect.

"It wants to make you an offer," Greg said, stepping towards Chakotay cautiously.

"Have you noticed that when it wants something it always pulls back and lets the host do the talking?" Chakotay asked Tuvok casually.

"Indeed. It is an efficient ploy. You are far more likely to listen to Mr. Ayala's reasoning than that of the Grrchek," Tuvok replied.

"Except that it's impossible to truly judge where one begins and the other ends. Tom's the same. No matter how 'Tom-like' he is at times, he's always the Grrchek too. I never let myself forget that."

"Very wise," Tuvok replied.

"I said it wants to make you an offer," Greg repeated angrily, thrusting himself between Chakotay and Tuvok for attention.

Chakotay sighed heavily and gave a moue of boredom. "What offer?"

"Either you must now choose a new companion or acknowledge that Tom is the one you will remain with permanently. The Grrchek will assure Tom's physical safety for the remainder of the repairs in exchange for your agreement that he will be your chosen companion in the wall. Your refusal to accept a substitute for him now suggests that you will not accept a substitute later."

"That's why it had Tom beaten up? To blackmail me?"

"You misunderstand the situation. The Grrchek was not directly responsible for the attack on Tom. While it acknowledges that the attack was perpetrated by hosts, the attack was primarily motivated by their own jealousy. While a question mark remains as to who you will choose, tensions are high amongst the hosts. The Grrchek regrets that it indirectly caused this situation by encouraging you to spend this time with Tom. Now it accepts that it made a mistake."

"Then the Grrchek lost control of his own symbionts?"

"It was a temporary glitch," Greg argued, his eyes flashing dangerously. "It won't happen again."

"I'll give it some thought," Chakotay replied. 

"But…"

Chakotay frowned at Tuvok and the Vulcan quickly signaled for Ayala to be beamed out of Chakotay's quarters.

"Shit," Chakotay breathed, when they were alone. "Is Tom really okay?"

"Far more 'okay' than the Grrchek believes," Tuvok replied dryly. "The doctor has Tom under sedation to conceal the fact that his injuries are far less severe than they appeared. Until he wakes, his own symbiont is lying dormant also so it can't reveal our subterfuge. The Doctor says it would be dangerous to sedate him for more than 72 hours though."

"The Grrchek's pushed itself too far, hasn't it?"

"It would appear so. It was already badly splintered before accepting the original 37 hosts. The further 10 have fractured it too greatly for it to maintain full control."

"How close are we to repair?"

"We need another four weeks to be fully space-worthy, but if we were prepared to ignore internal non-essential repairs and to face the worm-hole with 80% shields , two weeks could do it."

"The answer I'm looking for is three days, Tuvok."

"There is one possibility," Tuvok murmured.

" *Everyone* becomes a host," Chakotay suggested, with an unpleasant smile.

"Except you and myself, for obvious reasons," Tuvok agreed.

"It would cut repair times by more than two-thirds," Chakotay pointed out. "The Grrchek is crumbling. Another 100 hosts, all calling on its resources for three solid days, will shatter it. Enough, at least, for us to escape."

"It is unlikely to agree. It understands its own weaknesses."

"I'm going to make it an offer it can't refuse," Chakotay replied. "I'm going to put Tom in the wall in exchange for the extra 100 symbionts."

"Physically in the wall?"

"He'll never know, Tuvok. The doctor can insert a subcutaneous implant inside him to keep him sedated."

"How do you intend to retrieve him?"

"When the symbiont left you, it literally dissolved and flowed back to the surface like a stream of energy. At the moment Voyager lifts, we overload the link and 147 symbionts will be fleeing back to the wall simultaneously."

"Creating a huge breach in the magnetic cradle that traps the Grrchek," Tuvok confirmed thoughtfully.

"Then we transport Tom back through that breach."

"It may work," Tuvok confirmed. "Yet I do not understand, Commander. You initially suggested that you would rather risk the crew than Mr. Paris, yet now you are risking *him* to save the ship."

"No, I'm not," Chakotay said sadly. "Because the Grrchek never had any intention of letting him go. It's been playing a game with me all along. Just as it's playing a game now by suggesting I 'choose' another companion. It knows me, Tuvok. It knows that Tom's the key to controlling me and it won't ever lose that advantage."

"But why the rush now?"

"Because we need to catch it unawares. It will never dream that we would attempt to escape so soon and certainly not while it has physical possession of Tom."

"What if the transport fails?"

"Then you transport *me* down to the surface and continue home. If I can't rescue Tom, I'll join him."

"You do realize that there is an issue your plans do not cover?" Tuvok asked carefully.

"That Tom will still have the symbiont inside him when we transport him to the ship?"

"Yes."

"I'm trusting that it will flee him as we approach the worm-hole. Distance *must* be a factor in the symbiosis."

"Probably," Tuvok agreed. "But not necessarily. What if the whole crew are freed of their symbionts except Tom Paris? Perhaps he will still retain the Grrchek's 'thrall' with regard to yourself."

Chakotay closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"It's a risk we'll have to take."

Tuvok nodded. "I am sure the Captain will understand."

Chakotay groaned and wondered whether he'd see the rest of the journey from the inside of the Brig. Stealing the Captain's boyfriend, however inadvertently, was probably an offence that warranted court-martial. 

Especially if you didn't *want* to give him back.


TBC