"Count Your Blessings" by CaptKris Based on characters and situations created by Rick Berman, Michael Piller & Jeri Taylor "Counting Your Blessings" lyrics by Irving Berlin "Happy New Year, Seven!" exclaimed Harry Kim as he handed her a glass of synthehol. He raised his glass to hers, and she looked perplexed. "It's a toast," he explained, "to the new year. See, we clink our glasses..." The two wine glasses chimed together. "And then we drink." Harry took a gulp of his synthehol. Seven stood there and watched him. Finally, he stopped to look at her. "What's the matter?" "I do not understand the purpose of this celebration." "Well," Kim began, not quite sure how to explain the enthusiasm that brought in a new year. "It's a celebration of how wonderful the old year was, but it also gives hope for prosperity and happiness in the coming days. New year's celebrations are meant in anticipation of all the bounty to come in the next year. It's a way to start with a clean slate." "A clean slate?" Seven queried. She searched her memory for a moment. "I have heard the expression before. It refers to starting over again." Harry nodded. "I am beginning to understand. You see the new year as a rebirth; a new beginning." "Yes. That's why we make new year's resolutions." From her facial expression, Kim could see that Seven had not heard of the ritual. "A new year's resolution is when you resolve to do something you either haven't done before, haven't been successful in before or something you did and then dropped for some reason or another. Last year, my new year's resolution was to not get all riled up when Tom teased me." "I see. Were you successful in keeping this resolution?" "Sometimes." Harry looked a little embarrassed, so Seven decided not to press the issue. "Anyway, that's not the point. When you make a new year's resolution, you have something to strive for all year." Seven nodded her head in understanding. "There is still one thing I do not quite comprehend," she said. "Ask away," offered Kim. "You said earlier that part of the new year's celebration is the anticipation of the prosperity that lies ahead in the coming year. How do you know that the coming year will be prosperous?" It was a good question, Kim had to admit. "You don't, really," he said. "You just hope that it will be a good year, and leave it at that. If it's not, then you hope you'll still get through it." "This has been an interesting conversation, Ensign," Seven said in a dismissing tone. "However, I see that the doctor is unoccupied at the moment, and I wish to ask him something. I will see you later." With that, she walked off, leaving Kim alone. As Harry watched her go, he marveled at her child-like perspective. In many ways, he had been the baby of the crew when they first embarked on their mission. Now, however, there was a new baby in the proverbial family. He enjoyed the opportunity to converse with her, teach her and watch her grow. Even in her brief life on Voyager, she had made considerable progress in gaining social skills and other, more human qualities. "This is quite a party, isn't it?" Janeway felt a light touch on her arm, and turned to see who the masculine voice had come from. "Yes, Commander, it certainly is. Tom and Neelix really managed quite a new year's bash. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves." She looked around the room, surveying the crew she had come to know as family. Harry was engaged in conversation with Seven of Nine; Neelix was happily serving food and drinks; Tuvok was stiffly examining the buffet table. Another pair caught Janeway's eye. "Look," she murmured under her breath, gesturing discreetly towards the sofa. There were Tom and B'Elanna, curled up together. He sat against one end of the sofa, and she leaned back against him, snug in his arms and stretching out along the couch. They were talking with Samantha Wildman and Ensign Vorik. "Those two are really something, aren't they?" Chakotay mused. "They are," agreed the captain. "Whoever would've guessed when we started this journey that B'Elanna would be the one to catch the rover..." "And that Tom would be the one to tame the tiger," finished Chakotay. Janeway nodded; that had been her thought as well. Janeway and Chakotay stood together in silence for a moment, next to the counter where Neelix normally served his meals but had today become a bar. They watched their crew; their family, like proud parents watching their children, and they looked at each other and smiled a knowing smile. "They're growing up, aren't they?" Kathryn asked quietly. Before she and Chakotay could continue their conversation, however, Neelix interrupted them with a platter of filled wine glasses. "Would you like anything, Captain? Commander?" he asked, offering them the synthehol. "Certainly, Neelix," Janeway replied. "The Commander and I will both have some synthehol to toast the new year." "You couldn't come up with anything better than synthehol, Neelix? Not even with Tom helping you plan this party?" Chakotay teased their resident chef and ambassador. He lowered his voice to an almost inaudible level. "Well, Commander, Tom did have a couple bottles of Merlot, if you'd care to come back after the party is done. He gave me one to use as I wished, and kept the other for himself and Lieutenant Torres. You're welcome to it." "We may just take you up on that offer," the Commander said, and Janeway saw a dangerous glint in his eye. "But for now, we'll just have synthehol, thank you." He took two glasses, and offered one to Janeway. Neelix moved on to solicit other guests, and Janeway turned to her first officer in indignation. "Just what did you mean by that? We might take him up on that offer? You might, but I certainly will not be caught in the mess hall drinking wine with my first officer at oh-two-hundred hours." "Hush," Chakotay admonished her. He raised his glass to hers in a toast. "To the coming year," he said. "May it be one of peace, prosperity, joy, and getting home." "I'll drink to that!" said Captain Janeway with a smile. And they did. Captain's Log: We are entering a particularly empty area of the Delta Quadrant. There are no M-class planets within sensor range. Neelix has assessed our food supplies, and decided that we have enough to last about three months. Reports from engineering indicate the same for fuel and chemical supplies. Hopefully, we will encounter another M-class planet before that time is up. Or perhaps we'll encounter a wormhole, thought Janeway. A wormhole that would lead us back to the Alpha Quadrant. Over the years, Kathryn, along with her crew, had accepted their situation 65,000 light-years from home. She had even learned to enjoy it, at times, but she still remembered the promise she had made to get her crew home. And she would do it, no matter what it took. Chakotay sometimes thought it would be better to start a new life on an uninhabited planet in the Delta Quadrant, and he told Janeway she was being stubborn and unreasonable; that she couldn't expect the crew to live the rest of their lives on a ship. She replied hotly that she didn't. She expected them to live the rest of their lives on Earth, on Vulcan, on Bajor, in the Federation with their families and friends. In the end, her first officer always consented, but he never stopped bringing it up. She heard a chime at the door. "Come," she called, unsure who to expect at this late hour. In walked Neelix, with a steaming platter of food and a hot cup of coffee on a tray. He set it down in front of her on her desk. "What's this?" she queried. "I asked the computer if you had eaten anything today, and I found out that you hadn't, so I thought I'd bring you a little something. Food will help you work better, you know." The Talaxian regarded her anxiously, hoping he had pleased her. "It's Tarkalian sausage with Talaxian hair pasta, and, of course, a cup of coffee for the captain." "Thank you, Neelix," Janeway said, smiling. "It's just what I needed." Perhaps it was and perhaps it was not, but the chef had obviously worked very hard to prepare it for her. The least she could do was thank him for his support and hard work. "I'll keep you company while you eat, Captain. It's not good to work while you eat, you know. It might upset your stomach." Janeway laughed and dug into her dinner. It tasted surprisingly good. Captain's Log: It has been over two months since we entered the vast area of the Delta Quadrant that we have named the Null Zone, because there is, in effect, nothing. We have passed a small number of uninhabitable and barren planets, but we have met no other vessels, contacted no other species and found no needed resources since we entered the NZ. Our food supplies are beginning to dwindle, and, although we still have enough chemical supplies to last another two months, I am beginning to worry. Crew morale is low, especially at the prospect of surviving for any length of time on emergency rations. I have called a senior staff meeting to discuss our impending predicament. Everyone was assembled, including the doctor and Seven of Nine. Captain Janeway sat at her usual place at the head of the table, with Chakotay at her right hand and Tuvok at her left. The others sat, as usual in a various order around the conference table. Janeway began the meeting. "As some of you are aware, our food supplies are getting smaller every day, as are our other energy sources. No M-class planets are in sensor range, and we are going to need a solution to this problem soon. I want options." "I want each department to submit a report to me by oh-eight-hundred tomorrow on how they can cut down their energy usage," ordered Commander Chakotay. "We can cut the crew's meals to two a day," Neelix offered. "It's not ideal, but they can survive. I can also make sure each crewmember eats only one portion, and regulate the size of that portion. That will extend our present food supplies for another three weeks, at least." B'Elanna caught onto Neelix's general train of thought. "If we reduce speed to warp two or warp one point five, it would conserve warp plasma, among other precious chemicals." "Good ideas, both of you," said the captain. "Unfortunately, those are just temporary solutions to a problem that could last longer than just a few weeks. I need ideas on what to do if, by some chance, our energy and food supplies are gone, and we're still not out of the NZ." "I have an idea, Captain," said the doctor. He'd been unusually quiet throughout the meeting. He seemed to have gone over this idea in his mind with great deliberation. "You might not like it, but it's a last resort." "What's your plan, Doctor?" Janeway asked, although she had a feeling she already knew, especially considering the foreboding expression on his face. She exchanged a glance with Chakotay, and she could tell that he was having the same thoughts as she. "In the event that our food and energy supplies should run out, I could place the entire crew in stasis and remain running myself until someone found us. I mean, someone is bound to pass through here eventually." "Perhaps, Doctor," Tuvok said with a doubtful tone. "However, your idea is not entirely logical. In the event that something were to happen to your program, the ship would be left completely unmanned. One crew member should be selected that would not remain in stasis." "And you believe the most logical choice for that crew member to be yourself." Everyone turned to look at Seven of Nine with expressions of surprise. She blinked and then addressed them, "I have observed that Lieutenant Tuvok often volunteers for the most dangerous missions based on his Vulcan physiology." "I do not believe I am in error in this judgement," said Tuvok. My Vulcan physiology enables me to better withstand conditions such as hunger and pain than any of you." "That's true, Lieutenant," admitted Janeway. "And if it came down to what the doctor is proposing, I suppose you are correct. However, that is a last-ditch plan that I sincerely hope we will not have to use. I believe there are other options. We just have to find them. So," she looked at everyone in turn, "find them. Dismissed." Janeway watched as her senior officers filed out of the conference room. At first she did not notice that one of them had stayed behind. "Commander? What can I do for you?" Janeway looked up at the sage, dark eyes and the weathered brow. Her first officer sat down beside her. "How long would it take to go back?" he asked. "Back? You mean to the place where we entered the Null Zone?" He nodded. "About three months or so. Why?" It only took a moment before she could answer her own question. "You want to go back," she realized. "You think it would be safer to turn around, where we know it will only be three months, than to press forward when we don't know what we're facing." Chakotay nodded again. "I didn't want to bring it up at the meeting," he explained, "because we always fight about it. I really think that you should consider it this time, though. You don't want to get to the point where we have to fall back on the Doctor's plan, do you? You don't really want to get to the point where we have to all be put into stasis, do you? Maybe it's better to go back and lose six months on our journey than to go forward and all end up dead." "Do we have to go over this again, Chakotay? I'm sick of having this discussion with you. If we go back, who knows what we'll find. We may find that this Null Zone stretches so far in either direction that it would take years to go around it. We don't know what we'll find if we turn around any more than we know what we'll find when we press ahead." "That's not true," he contradicted her. "We know that if we go back and find that the Null Zone stretches forever in all directions we can find an M-class planet and settle down. If we go ahead, we don't even know that we can do that." "I'm not going back, Chakotay. I'm not going back, and I'm not living the rest of my life in the Delta Quadrant. I made a promise to get this crew home. A promise. I take that very seriously. Better safe than sorry doesn't apply here. I'd rather take the risk." "It's a risk that could kill us all." "I know that. When I signed up to be a starship captain, I didn't do it because I wanted a safe job. Neither did anyone else in Starfleet or the Maquis." "That's true," Chakotay admitted. "That doesn't mean we have to take unnecessary risks." Janeway shook her head vehemently. "I believe they are necessary. Our voyage is unlike the voyage of any other Starfleet vessel; our mission unlike any other mission. Our first priority will be getting home. I said that on the bridge of this ship when our crews first joined, and I'll say it again. I am willing to risk anything; my ship, my crew, my life, in order to achieve that purpose." Chakotay looked at her with a soft expression on his face. "All right, Kathryn. I'm with you." Tom Paris hummed quietly as he tapped his control board a few times to plot in the new course the captain had just suggested. Any way they turned, the Null Zone seemed to be endless. His stomach growled, a painful reminder of what happened when you ate nothing but Starfleet rations for a week. A week, and counting, he mused silently to himself. Neelix had replicated enough rations to last the entire crew three or four months. Tom didn't know what he'd do if all he had to eat for three months was Starfleet rations. He realized that in one bar they had to pack in all the nutrients necessary for twelve hours of survival, but couldn't they have come up with something that tasted a little better? Pizza flavored, maybe? A sharp voice from Tuvok's station interrupted Paris' thoughts. "Captain, we're approaching a planet. There may be organisms on this world that contain nutrients that we need. The planet does not have an oxygen atmosphere, but with oxygenated suits, we should be able to beam down an away team. There are also a number of plasma storms in the atmosphere. If we could collect some of the plasma, it could serve as replacement for our dwindling supplies." "Excellent." Janeway could feel the adrenaline gushing through her veins. She wanted to go down to the planet; to lead an away team, but she knew her place was on the bridge. "Commander," she addressed Chakotay, "take an away team down to the surface. Make sure you are adequately equipped for the planet's atmosphere. Lieutenant Paris, take a shuttle to see what you can collect from the plasma storms. Ensign Kim, you can go with him. Good luck everyone." She watched as Chakotay, Paris and Kim hurried into the turbolifts, and junior officers took the stations of Paris and Kim. Impatiently, she drummed her fingers on the arm of her command chair. She hated waiting. Chakotay fumbled a little inside his oxygenated suit. It was large and cumbersome, and he was unused to moving inside such apparel. His team, consisting of Samantha Wildman, Ensign Nathan Bruegger and Ensign Vorik, all moved about rather like snowmen in their inflated suits. Each of them had pulled out a tricorder and were eagerly scanning the area for anything that looked like it might be edible. "Over here!" called Ensign Wildman, gesturing excitedly. Chakotay, Bruegger and Vorik all hurried over to join her. Her tricorder was pointed off in one direction and was beeping insistently. It indicated several plants off in that direction that might be edible. "Let's go," Chakotay ordered. "Wildman, you go straight ahead; Bruegger and Vorik, head off to the left slightly, and I'll veer to the right. Contact me as soon as you find anything." Chakotay saw his team nod from inside their suits, and they departed off in slightly different directions. Chakotay wandered for several meters off to the right of their original position, and his tricorder still wasn't picking up any of the nutrients that had been visible in Wildman's signal. He decided to walk back towards the others. He had just started to move in that direction when he heard a rumble, then felt a slight vibration. It seemed to be all around him, engulfing him. For a moment he couldn't figure out what it was, then he realized, "The plasma storms!" he exclaimed. "Chakotay to Voyager, please respond," he said. No response. "Chakotay to Captain Janeway, can you hear me?" Static. Even if the rest of his team could hear him, the storm was disrupting long-range communications. "Everyone, get under cover!" Chakotay yelled. He looked around frantically for something to get under. Finally, he saw it, about twenty five meters in the direction from which he had just come, a large structure that looked like it was made of rocks. "This way!" he called, motioning with both arms and hoping the storm was not blocking communications. He couldn't stop and wait for the others now, though, not if he wanted to save his own skin. He charged for the structure, and, out of the corner of his eye, saw Bruegger and Vorik follow. But where was Wildman? Chakotay, Bruegger and Vorik made it safely to the structure, and they sheltered themselves inside a little cave. "Where is Ensign Wildman?" Chakotay asked Bruegger and Vorik. "I don't know, sir," Ensign Bruegger replied. "I don't know if she saw your signal. She seemed pretty intent on her tricorder..." Chakotay didn't need to hear any more. "I'm going after her," he said. "Sir," Vorik interrupted, "that is highly illogical. You could suffer severe damage from the plasma storms." "I know that," replied Chakotay, "but she's my responsibility, and if I have the chance to save her, I'm going to." He left the safety of the cave, tricorder in hand. The plasma storm was interfering with the signal, though, so it was almost useless. The rumbling of the storm was all around him, and a beam lanced down from the sky. It hit probably a kilometer away from Chakotay's position, and he could feel its heat. Nevertheless, he pushed on, towards Wildman's last known position. Suddenly, he saw her. She looked frantic, unsure. Chakotay began to wave his arms in the air. "Samantha! Over here!" he called. She saw him. Relief flooded the commander as Wildman ran towards him. She was safe. The rumbling grew louder. Chakotay hurried towards the running Wildman. The rumbling grew louder. Chakotay knew they were in for another blast, and, from the look on Wildman's face, she knew it too. She was running as fast as she could. She was only meters from Chakotay. The beam lanced down from the sky, blinding both Chakotay and Samantha. Chakotay fell to the ground, feeling the heat invade his lungs and sear his skin. He desperately attempted to crawl towards Wildman, but he could no longer see her figure in the smoke. The smell of charred flesh filled Chakotay's nostrils and he realized that the burning skin was his own. Unable to scream, unable to move, the commander lapsed into unconsciousness. The last thought he had before the blackness hit him was that Vorik had been right. Things were not going much better in the shuttlecraft. The little ship was being violently tossed about in the turbulent atmosphere while its two occupants tried valiantly to control it. "Harry, can you give me any more on those starboard thrusters?" Tom's voice was tense and urgent. "I'm trying." Kim sounded just as strained. The storm was becoming more and violent, making it more and more difficult to keep their little craft in one piece. There was an explosion from behind, and Tom turned around to see what it was; just a console, and the computer wasn't warning them of a warp core breach yet, so all was well. At least temporarily. "What was that?" asked Paris. "One of the plasma streams must've hit us," Kim replied. "Do you have that containment field set up, if we can actually get anything out of this storm?" "I think so, but let me go double check it to make sure it can contain something this violent." Kim stood from the co-pilot's seat and moved to the rear of the shuttle. He pressed a panel to double check on his containment field. Everything seemed to be all right. He programmed in some extra precautions, though, just to be sure. There, he thought. That ought to do just... His thoughts were interrupted by another explosion and a strangled yell from Paris. He whirled around just in time to see Tom thrown from his chair across the shuttle. Harry glanced at Paris, who appeared to be unconscious, and for a moment he was torn between running to the pilot's seat and running to his friend, but he knew he had to get them out of this plasma storm. There was no time to worry about getting anything into that containment field. Not if Tom was going to live. Kim hopped back into his seat, transferred all controls to his station and began to head the shuttle out of the storm. "Kim to Voyager," he said into the communications device. There was no reply; only static. The plasma storm must be interfering with our communications, he decided. He glanced back at Tom's figure sprawled out on the floor behind him. He looked pretty bad. Harry turned around again, focused once more on the task at hand. He had to get them out of this plasma storm. "Captain," Tuvok said, "a plasma storm just hit the surface near the away team's last known location. It is interfering with communications and transporters." "Can you get through the interference?" Janeway stood impatiently from her chair and moved over to Tuvok's station. The Vulcan shook his head. "I do not believe so. The plasma storm appears to be too strong." "Can you read any life signs on the planet?" "No, Captain." Tuvok shook his head again. "The plasma storm is blocking our sensors as well." Janeway tapped some buttons on her security chief's console to double check his readings. Of course, she found that they were correct. The Vulcan rarely miscalculated and was always extremely meticulous in researching his replies before he gave them. He spoke again, "I believe the most logical solution would be to wait until the plasma storm clears." "Unfortunately, Tuvok," Janeway said, "that's all we can do at the moment." She returned to her command chair to wait, her thoughts full of her away team on the planet: Bruegger, Vorik, Samantha Wildman, Chakotay. The most prominent image in her mind was that of her darkly handsome first officer. You've got to come back, she thought. She did not have to wait too long, though it seemed like hours. A broken signal came through the ship's intercom system. "Vorik to Cap... way... Can... read?" "Can you clean that signal up any, Tuvok?" Janeway asked, a hope beginning to glimmer. But she wondered why it was Ensign Vorik calling her and not Chakotay. A knot began to form in the pit of her stomach. "Residual traces of plasma are still inhibiting our communications," Tuvok explained. "I am attempting to compensate." Tuvok's compensations had obviously been successful, for Janeway and the rest of the bridge crew heard loud and clear, "This is Ensign Vorik to Captain Janeway. Do you read me?" Janeway let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "Yes, Ensign. We read you loud and clear." "A plasma storm hit near our position." "Yes," Janeway acknowledged. "We know. It prevented us from transporting you and also blocked communications. Is everyone all right down there?" Tuvok had the answer to that question before Vorik could reply, but he refrained from speaking. Vorik cleared his throat before breaking the news to the captain. "Ensign Wildman is dead. She was caught in the storm. Commander Chakotay made a rescue attempt and was severely wounded in the process." "Captain," said Tuvok. She turned to look at him. "Enough of the plasma has cleared that it would now be safe to beam up the away team." "Ensign Vorik," the captain said, "We will be beaming you and the rest of the team directly to sickbay." She signaled to Tuvok with her hand to beam the team up, and as soon as he nodded that the job had been done, she was out of her chair and headed towards the turbolift. "I'll be in sickbay. Lieutenant Tuvok, you have the bridge." Heavily, the doctor laid down his medical tricorder and took the synaptic stimulators off of his patient's forehead. "Computer," he said with great weight, "Record time of death for Ensign Samantha Wildman at fourteen-hundred hours and twenty-two minutes." "Time and date of death recorded," the computer's cold voice came back at him. Shaking his head, the doctor pulled the white sheet over Wildman's scarred and already chilled body. Then he moved over to the biobed where Commander Chakotay lay. The doctor went to work, regenerating his damaged lungs, repairing his burned skin. By the time the captain arrived in sickbay, he almost looked like a live man. The sight of him, however, was still enough to elicit a gasp from Janeway as she entered the room. To her credit, she managed to keep her voice under control. "How is he, Doctor?" "He will survive, probably with no lasting damage. Ensign Wildman, however, wasn't so lucky." The doctor drew Janeway's eye to the other biobed, whose occupant was covered with a white sheet. Janeway understood the implications. "Someone will have to tell Naomi," Janeway said, knowing that someone would have to be her. "Kathryn..." The name came out strangled, and the voice cracked. Both she and the doctor whirled around to see Commander Chakotay trying to sit up in his bed, and they rushed over to him. "Commander," the doctor said sternly, "Please try to relax. Don't move." Chakotay obeyed and laid down. Janeway, at his side, took one of his hands in her own and clutched it to her. His gripped her hand strongly despite his condition. "How do you feel, Chakotay?" she asked gently as she brushed his matted hair out of his face. Her cool hands felt good on his sweaty brow. He tried to grin at her, but it hurt too much. "Like I've just been to hell and back," he managed. Then he looked downcast, and she raised her eyebrows inquiringly. "We didn't find anything," he said. Janeway closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She could only hope that Paris and Kim had been more successful. But it was not to be. "Tuvok to Janeway," she heard as her badge chirped. She let go of Chakotay's hand and tapped it back. "Janeway here." There was something in Tuvok's voice that told her to brace herself. She had worked with him long enough to know that he was not calling her with good news. "Ensign Kim has managed to wrestle the shuttle from the plasma storm. They were not able to find any resources, and Lieutenant Paris is severely injured. I am beaming him directly to sickbay." "Understood," the captain replied. "Janeway out." She hit her badge again and turned away from the doctor and Chakotay while she wrestled for control of the despair threatening to overwhelm her. In front of her, the still form of Lieutenant Paris materialized on a biobed. The doctor rushed to the lieutenant, and Janeway told him to keep her informed. She cast one last look at Chakotay before hurrying out of sickbay and back to the bridge, where she could be away, at least for the moment, from the smell of death. Paris was in far worse condition than Chakotay. As the doctor ran his tricorder over him, he wasn't quite sure how much of this man he could save. His left leg, in particular had been terribly damaged with the lower half of it blown off completely. The doctor thought he'd probably have to make an artificial leg for the lieutenant. He began by making sure the patient would remain sedated, and then began to treat some of the most severe burns. He had hardly completed the treatment on the first burn when Lieutenant Torres burst in the door. "Where is he?" It did not take too long before she saw him, lying motionless on a biobed under the doctor's careful treatment. "Where is who, Lieutenant?" the doctor asked, not looking up from his work. It was, after all, an extremely delicate process. B'Elanna ignored the doctor's question and rushed over to Tom. For several moments, she stared at his burnt and bloodied figure, fighting the emotions that rose inside of her. Finally, she found the courage to ask, "Will he live?" Her voice made the doctor look up at her. He had never heard Torres speak in such hushed and gentle tones. It took him a moment to see how deeply this had affected her. "Yes," he replied, trying to be reassuring. "Most of his burns are easily treated. His left leg, which I have sterilized for the moment, will probably have to be replaced." "Replaced?" B'Elanna bit her lip so it would not quiver, but she bit it so hard that it bled. The doctor nodded, answering her question and resuming his work. "By an artificial limb," he explained. "It would function just as the real leg did, but would be mechanical." Torres understood. "Call me the minute he wakes up, will you?" "Lieutenant, I cannot possibly..." "The minute he wakes up, do you understand?" She was becoming fierce. She wouldn't take no for an answer. "All right, Lieutenant," the doctor resigned. She stalked out of sickbay like a lioness who had lost her mate. The doctor couldn't blame her; she almost had. Captain's Log: Our food and energy supplies are running out, with no end to the Null Zone in sight. We must try something drastic, and I believe an adaptation of the doctor's earlier suggestion to be in order. I have called a senior staff meeting to discuss the matter, though I do not expect too much, if any, opposition. Janeway was sitting in the briefing room when her senior staff filed in. They all looked weary, worn out by survival on emergency rations and a general feeling of impending doom. Neelix always did his best to lighten the mood, but even he looked depressed and pallid today. B'Elanna looked like she had not been sleeping well, and she probably hadn't; not with Tom still on a sickbay biobed. The doctor, conscientiously watching over him, joined the briefing from a sickbay viewscreen. He and Seven of Nine were the only two who looked vaguely unruffled, although the captain could even begin to see signs of weariness on Seven's usually bland face. Even Tuvok was showing the strain. The last to arrive at the briefing was Commander Chakotay, just as good as new. Well, almost. He exchanged a warm smile with the captain before taking his seat at her side. "I believe we have come to the point where some action is necessary, or we will all most certainly die," Janeway began. "The best option I see is an adaptation of the doctor's earlier idea which involved putting the entire crew in stasis and leaving him to run the ship. At the time the doctor proposed this plan, Lieutenant Tuvok raised some important objections which I think you all remember. Mr. Neelix has calculated that we have enough rations left to support all eight of us for another twelve weeks. We have enough energy to replicate enough for another three weeks after that. If all non-essential personnel were put into stasis and all non-essential ship's systems shut down, we could survive for at least another three months, traveling at warp two point four." Janeway finished, opening the floor for discussion. "You can't run a ship with only nine people," Torres put in, always the doubter. "Yes you can," Janeway disagreed. "We're not mounting any special operations. All we need is to pilot Voyager out of the Null Zone. As long as we remain in the NZ, we won't be encountering any other races or have need for away teams." The explanation satisfied Torres, although she still didn't like the idea particularly. "Captain," said Seven of Nine, raising her eyebrows, "I question your judgement. The doctor's original plan of leaving only one crew member not in stasis is far more efficient. If the rations we have can sustain eight people for three months, they could sustain one person for two years. I do not understand the reasoning behind your plan." Janeway smiled tiredly. "We're all in this together, Seven. None of us stands alone, even though we all believe we could. Everyone needs contact, and leaving one person or even two people alone for two years with no contact... Well, that could drive anyone insane." Seven cocked her head and thought about that for a moment. "I understand," she finally said. "When I was severed from the Collective, I felt that lack of contact. It is something I have learned to live with." "But you haven't, completely," added Kim. "You've had us. You were severed from the Collective, but you found a new family." "True," Seven agreed. The conversation was an important one, but it was not the purpose of this briefing. "Are there any further objections to the proposed plan?" Janeway asked. No one spoke. "Very well," she continued. "Doctor, proceed with putting the entire crew, with the exception of the senior staff, into stasis. Neelix, replicate the extra rations. Lieutenant Torres, proceed in shutting down all non-essential systems including the holodecks, the transporters, the replicators; basically everything but propulsion and life support. The rest of you, resume your regular posts. Dismissed." It was cold in the mess hall, and the middle of the night, but Janeway hadn't known where else to go. She had wanted some place quiet where she could think, uninterrupted. They had decided to turn off the environmental controls for everywhere but engineering, sickbay and deck one, where the bridge was and where all the senior staff had moved their quarters to if they hadn't been there already. Yet Janeway still found herself here, in the mess hall, as cold and barren as it was. All Neelix's pots and pans were neatly hung in their places. All his silverware and kitchen knives sat unused in their drawers. It felt empty. The whole ship felt empty; dead somehow. She felt a little dead herself. Six months. It had been six months since they entered the Null Zone; three since Chakotay had suggested they turn back and settle on some nice M-class planet in the Delta Quadrant. Perhaps he had been right. Perhaps they should take the chance they still had and turn around. No! No, she wasn't going to do that. Not after they'd been pushing ahead for six months. They had to be nearing the end of the Null Zone now. Or maybe this was just the beginning. Maybe they were all going to die. She stopped the thought, and refused to think any more about it. They were not going to die. They were going to get out of this, somehow. The trouble was, she wasn't quite sure how. She felt the burden wearing her down. She knew she'd been getting testy lately; everyone had. Six months on nothing but emergency rations, and now another three or four to look forward to; the ship felt cold and dead; everyone felt cold and dead. Tom's entire leg had been amputated and replaced by a mechanical one. He hated it. It was cumbersome, and he stumbled over it. He couldn't walk straight half the time, and had lapsed into a terrible depression and taken to his bed. Janeway had never seen the spirited, young lieutenant so despondent. Torres had promised to get him out of it, but the captain had her doubts. She flashed back to the time her sister, Phoebe, had dumped a bucket of cold water on her to get her out of her depression. B'Elanna could certainly be more ruthless than Phoebe. "Captain?" Janeway gasped, startled, then whirled around to find her first officer standing in the doorway. She must have been so involved in her reverie that she didn't hear the whoosh of the doors as they opened. "Oh, Commander, it's you. I didn't hear you come in." "I guess not," he said with a smile. "I didn't mean to startle you." He walked towards her and sat down across from her. "Mind if I join you?" She shook her head, no. "What are you doing in here in the dark and the cold in the middle of the night?" His tone was more curious than reprimanding, which surprised her. "I couldn't sleep," she answered simply. "What are you doing here?" "Same." For a moment they just sat there and gazed at each other. Then she raised her hand, and he clasped it, reminiscent of a night on a planet light-years away. New Earth seemed like a life time ago. "I'm glad you're here," Janeway told him, and it was the absolute truth. She didn't know what she'd do without him. He looked at her, saw the conflicting emotions in her eyes. "Are you worried?" he asked. She laughed a short, strangled laugh. She hadn't believed she could laugh anymore. "Am I worried? Of course I'm worried. I don't want to die." He let go of her hand, and his face became stern. "You are most certainly not going to die, Kathryn Janeway." Then his voice became soft again. "Count your blessings." "What?" She looked at him, puzzled. "Count your blessings. It's in a lullaby: When you can't sleep, count your blessings." "What lullaby?" she asked. Suddenly, he realized how starved she was for love; how starved they all were. These past six months, they'd been so concentrated on their predicament that they'd forgotten about the family. They'd forgotten about giving everyone love and attention. Chakotay took both her hands in his and began a quiet melody. "When I'm worried, and I can't sleep, I count my blessings instead of sheep. And I fall asleep counting my blessings. When my bank roll is getting small, I think of when I had none at all. And I fall asleep counting my blessings. I think about a nursery, and I picture curly heads. Then one by one I count them as they slumber in their beds. If you're worried, and you can't sleep, just count your blessings instead of sheep. And you'll fall asleep counting your blessings." Chakotay saw Janeway's hands cover her mouth as a sob shook her. It touched Chakotay very deeply; he had never seen Kathryn cry before. The tears began to roll down her cheeks, and Chakotay rose slowly, went to her, and, helping her to stand as well, took her into his arms. He rocked her gently back and forth as she cried, and he soothed her. "If you're worried and you can't sleep, just count your blessings instead of sheep. And you'll fall asleep counting your blessings." Captain's Log: I've called the senior staff together on the bridge at oh-nine-hundred hours today. I want to give them a very special message; one that we've all forgotten. I am thankful that Commander Chakotay was able to remind me of it last night. Tom Paris heard his door chime. He hid under the covers. It chimed again. He said nothing. Then he heard a voice, "Tom Paris, if you don't let me in, I'm coming in anyway." It was B'Elanna, the last person he wanted to see at the moment. Of all the people to see him trip and fall over his new leg, Torres was the worst. He ducked further under the covers. "Okay, Tom," she called. "This is your last chance, let me in or I'll come in myself." No reply. "Well, if that's the way you feel about it..." She keyed in the emergency override and the door opened on her command. She walked into the room to find the lights still off and Paris hiding under the covers. "Computer, lights," she said. She heard a moan from the bed. "Why'd you have to do that. You woke me up." "You were already awake, you lazy numbskull!" she exclaimed. "Now get out of bed. The captain has summoned us all to the bridge this morning, and I'd hate to be late because you won't get out of bed." "I'm not keeping you here," Paris replied indignantly. "You have every right to go wherever you want. At least you can walk properly." Torres put her hands on her hips. "Oh, so that's it, is it? You won't get out of bed because you don't want to walk on your new leg." "I can't walk, okay? Now will you just leave me alone?" he asked. He was getting impatient. But he was not only impatient, Torres, realized, he was hurt and afraid. "I'm not going to let you lie in bed for the rest of your life because you're afraid you might look stupid. Heaven knows you've looked like an idiot before." B'Elanna's words bit at Paris like a cold wind. Yes, he'd looked like an idiot before, but that was because he had done something dumb, not because he was incapable. This was different. He told her so. "You're right," she conceded, surprising him. "It is different. This is different because now you're hurt and afraid and you won't even try." Tom poked his head out from the covers, an angry expression on his face. "You don't know what it's like. You don't have any idea what you're talking about." She nodded. "That's true," she agreed, surprising him again. "But I am here to help you get through it. I'm not leaving you to struggle with it on your own. More than once, you've forced me to do something I didn't want to do. You've forced me to look at my Klingon side, to accept myself, and you've gone with me on the journey. I didn't like it at the time. I told you I didn't think it was necessary, but really, I was just afraid. I was afraid to face myself, and you don't know how many times I wanted to crawl under the covers just like you are now. But I did it, and now I'm better for it. Now, are you going to get up on your own or do I have to force you?" Paris made no reply, and before he knew it, B'Elanna was on him. Then, somehow, she had pinned him up against the wall, her face up against his, her teeth bared. "Now," she said, in a tone that he knew meant no nonsense, "You are going to walk." She set him down on the ground, and let him lean on her for support. He took one step, then another, then a third. His fourth step sent him tumbling towards the ground, but Torres caught him in time to break his fall. He stood up again and brushed himself off, more for the show of it than because he was dirty. "Good," said B'Elanna. "This time, take six steps before you fall." Anxiously, Janeway looked at her chronometer. It was oh-nine-hundred hours, and what was left standing of Voyager's crew had begun to assemble on the bridge. Naturally, Chakotay, Tuvok and Kim were already on the bridge as their duties maintained. Chakotay, at present, was seated at the conn; his temporary station while Paris was incapacitated. Neelix, Seven and the doctor arrived in quick succession, and then they were only waiting for Paris and Torres, although Janeway didn't really expect Lieutenant Paris' presence, given his condition the last time she had looked in on him. However, a whoosh of turbolift doors revealed the two of them, with Paris leaning heavily on Torres' shoulder, but walking nonetheless. Janeway stood to greet them, smiling despite her burdens. "Lieutenant Paris," she said, "It's good to see you up and running again." "It's all B'Elanna's fault," he said, sounding slightly out of breath from the exertion of walking again. "Good work, Lieutenant," Janeway acknowledged, with a secret smile passing between herself and Torres. When Paris and Torres had maneuvered to the lower level of the bridge, Janeway invited all her senior staff to come and join hands in a circle. Then, steadily and firmly, she began to speak, addressing them all. "I have assembled you all here today to share something very important. First of all, I would like to point out that we are all standing in a circle. I chose this configuration deliberately because without any of us, the circle would be incomplete. No one is alone; we are all part of the same circle. Also, I would like to share a lesson with you; a lesson which Commander Chakotay reminded me of. Count your blessings; all of you. You are blessed to be alive, and most importantly, we are all blessed to have each other. The first time Chakotay told me to count my blessings, I couldn't think of anything. But the more I thought about it, the longer my list became. The first and foremost blessing on my list, which counts more than all the rest put together, is all of you." She looked around at all of her officers: Chakotay, standing next to her, who loved her and understood her; B'Elanna, the fiery one who had somehow managed to pull Tom back from the dead; Paris, determined to walk again; Harry, once so young and innocent, but now seasoned and kind; Seven of Nine, who was, in many ways, child-like, but at the same time had more knowledge than the rest of them put together; the doctor, still without a name, who had saved so many lives; Neelix, who, in his own way saved lives every time he made a person smile; and last of all, Tuvok, on her left, her devoted and long-time friend. Janeway felt her eyes getting misty as she looked at them all. "We have a long road ahead of us," she continued. "None of us knows how long this Null Zone will last. But whatever happens, we'll go through it together, and we'll be here for each other." "Here, here!" Chakotay seconded her motion. Then, they dropped hands, and hugs went all around; except for Tuvok, of course. Janeway overheard a brief exchange between Torres and Paris. "You are definitely the number one blessing on my list," he told her seriously. "Thank you for making me get up." In reply, she kissed him hard on the mouth, trying to contain the tears that pressed at the back of her eyes. For a brief moment, a peaceful joy settled over the nine remaining Voyager crew members. The moment couldn't last forever. Chief Medical Officer's Log: If the Null Zone continues for another week, our emergency rations will be completely exhausted. I can keep the crew alive with injections of nutrients for a few days after that, but I cannot help but think that the best solution for our immediate problem is to put the remaining eight crewmembers into stasis along with the rest of the crew. Unfortunately, when I approached Captain Janeway about it, she told me firmly that that was not an option. When I declared her unfit for duty, she looked at me piteously and told me the rest of the eight would give me the same response. I was surprised to find that they all did, with the exception of Lieutenant Tuvok, who chose to remain silent. The doctor pressed a button on his console signaling the end of his log. He didn't understand these people; not the captain or her crewmates. He wondered why Tuvok declined to answer his query, suspecting that the Vulcan agreed with him. The behavior was certainly illogical. As much as a hologram could, the doctor had pondered his own existence, and, from what he had seen of himself and other beings, he couldn't see why anyone would want to throw their life away. Of course, that wasn't how the captain saw it. She saw it as abandoning her ship, and when she refused to abandon ship, the others refused to abandon her. Unless, of course, she ordered them to, but she wouldn't do that. "No one is alone," she had said. At the moment, the doctor felt very alone; rather like the only sane person in an asylum of crazy people. "There has to be another solution," he said to himself. He had to find it. He had to find whatever it was that would make these people live. He had performed miracles before; brought back the dead, restored a Borg's human physiology; replaced Neelix's lungs; melded Lieutenant Torres' Klingon and human sides. The doctor began to work diligently. Surely, he could find something to keep eight people alive for a little while longer. Hopefully, he could find it before they were all dead. Torres was sitting in one of the chairs in front of a console in engineering. She was trying not to think about how hungry she was when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She didn't have to turn around to see who it belonged to. "Tom." Then she turned around, and let him take her in a tight embrace. She squeezed him so hard he could hardly breathe. "B'Elanna," he managed. She loosened her grasp on him a little. "I want to talk to you about something." She moved away so she could look into his eyes. "What?" There was something about his demeanor, something about the weight with which he spoke, that was not just about being tired and hungry and worn down. There was something important on his mind. "What is it, Tom?" she asked again, more gently this time. He cleared his throat and then spoke, "We're out of emergency rations; the doctor has resorted to giving us nutrient injections; you've told me yourself that the propulsion system will fail in two or three days, and the life support will go not long after that." "I know this already. Why are you telling me?" "We might die out here. Before I die, I want you to be truly mine." Torres held her breath for a moment. She knew what Paris was going to ask next before he said, "B'Elanna Torres, will you marry me?" A tear rolled down her cheek, and Paris wiped it away tenderly. She looked deep in his eyes, seeing how badly he wanted this, knowing how badly she wanted it. "Yes," she answered. They were both crying now; neither had ever seen the other one shed a tear. They embraced each other and kissed each other over and over again, wiping each other's tears away. When they had regained control of themselves, B'Elanna said, "Let's go tell the captain." They hurried to the bridge, hand in hand, where they told the captain of their wish. She kissed them both, and told them she would be happy to marry them; she did it right there and then. There was nothing joyful about the marriage ceremony; it was all a very solemn occasion with no decorations, wedding dress, Klingon rituals, best man or entertainment. Paris had somehow managed to conceal a wedding ring on his person which he delicately slipped onto B'Elanna's finger. When Janeway pronounced them man and wife, they kissed fiercely and hurried off to Paris' quarters where they could consummate the marriage while they still had enough energy. Janeway and Chakotay had exchanged a glance at this, but neither was going to prevent the young couple from making love once before they died. Well, it had finally happened. Life support had been cut to all areas of the ship excepting the bridge, and propulsion had been reduced to the impulse engines. All engineering controls had been transferred to the bridge, and the doctor had access to all the files in sickbay from a console on the bridge as well. The entire senior staff was on the bridge, with the exception of Captain Janeway, who was in her ready room. Chakotay took a deep, relaxing breath and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to get control of his hunger. He had read a book in high school called Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad. He distinctly remembered a passage in which the main character, Marlow, described hunger as the most powerful urge in the human system. A man would rather eat his best friend than starve to death, Marlow said. At the moment, Chakotay found it difficult to argue, although, as Conrad's natives had, he would demonstrate restraint. With a whoosh, the ready room doors opened to spill out Captain Janeway, her hair in disarray and her figure looking bony and far too thin. She fell out of her ready room, attempted to clutch onto a console to regain her balance, and ended up sprawled out on the floor. The doctor and Chakotay were on her in a moment, with the rest of the bridge crew not far behind. Everyone waited anxiously for the doctor's report. "She is suffering from severe food deprivation," he explained. Then he gave them a disapproving look. "As are the rest of you." Janeway rolled over so her face was up. "Resume your positions," she rasped. Reluctantly, the senior staff left their captain and went back to their posts. Chakotay stayed, not surprising anyone. "Would you like me to carry you to your chair?" he asked quietly, managing a smile. She shook her head, no. "Please, just let me lie here for a while." Her voice came out a raspy whisper. Chakotay nodded, then positioned himself so that he sat leaning up against the bulkhead with her head rested in his lap. Neelix saw this. He also looked around to see that the newlyweds, Paris and Torres, were huddled together on the ledge near the captain's chair. The doctor was working industriously at his console, as was Seven of Nine. Neelix wondered what they could be working on, although he imagined it had something to do with their current situation. Harry Kim was standing loyally at his station, looking pallid and rather ill, staring off into space. Lieutenant Tuvok was the only one seemingly unaffected. Neelix surveyed his crew, wondering what he could do for them. Usually, when they were in a fix, he could bring hors d'oeuvres to the bridge or make a nice meal to cheer everybody up, but what could he do now? There was no food, no supplies. How could he cheer these people up now, when they so needed it? "Your lives have not been in vain," he said softly. Tuvok, standing near him, looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "What did he say?" Janeway asked Chakotay in a whisper. He put his finger over his lips to quiet her. Neelix spoke again, louder this time and with more confidence. He stood and addressed everyone on the bridge. "Your lives have all made great contributions to this universe." He stopped for a moment to collect his thoughts, scrunching up his face while he thought. "Without all of you, so many lives would be different. Look at all the good you've done. I would still be hanging out in a scrap pile, pretending that old ships were all I wanted. Dear Kes would never have had the opportunities she did to learn and grow on your vessel. Seven would still be stuck in a Borg cube. Henry Starling would have control of Earth, and there might never have been a Federation. Just think, not only of the great contributions you have made to this ship and this galaxy, but of what you have each given each other. "All of you have given me something special and something that I will cherish forever. Commander Chakotay, Lieutenant Tuvok, Lieutenant Paris, Captain Janeway; all of you have saved my life at least once. Each and every one of you have given me strength when I thought I couldn't go on any longer. You have all made a profound difference in my life, and, I think, in the lives of everyone else on this bridge. If we all die out here, we each should know that all of our lives were worth something." Neelix looked around, seeing weak smiles on everyone's faces. He heard murmuring around the room. It was no longer the murmur of death, but the murmur of life; people thanking each other for all that they had done, people reassuring one another, people loving one another. Harry Kim had taken Seven of Nine to join Torres and Paris, and Neelix went to share a few words with Tuvok and the doctor Off in one corner, still sitting up against the bulkhead with Janeway's head in his lap, Commander Chakotay felt a salty tear well up in his eye, slide down his cheek and fall onto Kathryn's face. Her eyes had closed, and he could hear her slow, gentle breathing. She was asleep, and, despite her pale face and exposed bones, she looked more beautiful than he had ever seen her. Another tear fell. Janeway thought she was home in Indiana, running through golden fields with her dog, Bear. She thought she heard her mother's voice calling her. She ran towards her family's home and saw her mother, sister and father all standing in the doorway, beckoning her. She did a double-take. Her father? How was that possible? "Daddy!" she cried, and ran towards him, but she stumbled and fell onto the soft prairie. Her eyes shut tight as she hit the ground, and when she opened them, she felt the gentle pitter-patter of a spring rain on her face. She tasted one of the raindrops. It was salty. Suddenly, she snapped her eyes open and realized that she was still on Voyager, hunger was still grinding at the pit of her stomach, and the spring rain was the tears of her first officer. She looked up and saw his face above her, realizing that her head was still in his lap, and his hands were running through her hair. Slowly, so as not to startle him, she sat up across from him. Carefully, she wiped his tears away. It was then that his eyes fully met hers. "Kathryn," he breathed, "Why are we doing this?" His "this" could have meant any number of things, and she suspected it probably meant all of them. She shook her head. "I don't know. Because it's the right thing to do? Because it was necessary?" But those reasons sounded lame even to her own ears. "Because we chose to," she finally said, knowing it was true. He knew it, too. That didn't make him like it any more. "Let me..." He faltered; she encouraged him to continue. "Let me kiss you?" It was more of a question than a demand or even a request. She nodded, and felt his lips brush hers. It was barely a kiss at all, but it was enough. "Help me to my chair," she requested. Laboriously, he stood, and helped her up as well. Slowly, clutching both each other and the railing, they made their way to their command chairs. They lowered themselves into their separate chairs, but then bridged the gap between themselves when they reached out and clasped hands. Both hands were cold; almost cold as death. Paris and Torres were clinging to each other, trying to keep warm, but were not succeeding. Harry had returned to his post, but was shivering uncontrollably and had sunk down into a fetal position behind his station, as had Neelix. Seven of Nine was sitting in a chair near the bridge's engineering station, slumped over onto the control panel, fast asleep, or perhaps dead. No one could be sure. Tuvok was less affected than the rest, but even he was beginning to feel the symptoms of starvation. The doctor was the only one unaffected. He briefly surveyed the dilapidated bridge crew, then made a decision. He addressed Tuvok, "Lieutenant Tuvok, I believe you are the only crew member who remains even close to what I would call fit for duty. Do I have your permission to place the senior staff in stasis?" "Doctor," Tuvok replied, "I believe that is the only logical solution remaining." The doctor nodded and proceeded in placing each of the eight senior staff members into stasis. He transferred himself to sickbay to make a final note in his log, explaining the situation. He then cut all systems throughout the ship excepting propulsion and transferred himself back to the bridge. He got a strange thrill from sitting for the first time in the command chair; probably the only time, he thought wryly. He used the console on the arm of the chair to view and make additions to the medical database. It was going to be a long wait. "Captain? Captain Janeway?" a voice called. "Captain Janeway, can you hear me?" It was insistent. "Captain, if you can hear my voice, please respond." "Oh," Janeway moaned as she opened her eyes to an extremely bright light. "Can you turn that light down?" she asked, annoyed. "Your eyes will readjust to the light in time," the voice said. It took Kathryn a moment to place that voice as belonging to the doctor. His blurry visage slowly came into focus. "Doctor?" she queried. He seemed pleased. "Good," he said. "You remember me. Please, for the sake of clarity, Captain, what is your name? Do you know where you are?" "I am Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation starship Voyager, and I'm in sickbay. How did I get here? The last thing I remember is..." "Being on the bridge and thinking you were going to starve to death," finished the doctor. "I decided it was foolish to let all of you die, so, with Lieutenant Tuvok's permission, I placed the remaining crewmembers into stasis." Despite her vehement disagreement with his decision at the time, Janeway's rational mind understood the logic of it. "How long?" she asked. He glanced at his chronometer. "Exactly five years, four months and twenty-nine days," he said matter-of-factly. "Five years?" Janeway was astonished. "I've spent five years in stasis?" "Yes, Captain, along with the rest of your crew. Don't worry, they're all fine. I've been monitoring all of your conditions while you were in stasis. I will attend to the other senior staff members now." She nodded. "Please do." Then she was hit with a sudden realization. She looked around and it dawned on her that life support had evidently been returned to sickbay. She listened for a moment and heard the ship's engines humming smoothly. "How did you..." She gestured to everything around her, not knowing what to say. "How did you get all of this?" The doctor smiled smugly. "We emerged from the Null Zone a little over a month ago. I made some trades with a few alien races for supplies," he explained. "What did you trade them?" Janeway asked. They hadn't had anything to trade. "I gave one race our medical database; for another, I discovered a cure to a disease that had ravaged their people; for another, I healed their dying leader. Medical services are not a low priority, you must realize." Janeway smiled at his ingenuity; this was certainly the doctor she knew. "Good work, Doctor," she commended him. He turned around, seeming to have just remembered something, and Janeway saw a basket of what looked like fruit sitting behind him. He handed a large, round, purple item to her. "This contains nutrients like you wouldn't believe, and I think you will also find it pleasing to your palate," he told her. She tasted it and found he was correct. She sat on her biobed and watched the doctor revive her fellow crewmen. "Happy New Year, Seven!" exclaimed Harry Kim as he handed her a glass of synthehol. She smiled at him. When had she learned to smile? "Happy New Year to you as well, Ensign Kim," she said as she raised her glass to his. "I make a toast to the prosperity of a new year." Their glasses clinked and they both drank in a scene strangely reminiscent of one six years ago, yet somehow also very different. Since emerging from stasis, they had all had to make adjustments, trying to get back into their old lives. Their experiences in the Null Zone had brought them all closer together, and somehow, they all knew they would never really have their "old lives" back. Tom Paris limped over to B'Elanna, who was staring out the window at the stars whizzing by. "You know, what I said in the Null Zone," he began, "Well, I thought we were going to die, and you did, too. I won't blame you if you want to forget that ever happened." She turned around, looking incredulous. "I didn't just marry you because I thought we were going to die," she told him, touching the ring that still encircled her finger. "I love you." She kissed him fiercely. He emerged from the kiss with a silly grin on his face. "I love you, too, B'Elanna," he said, enfolding her in his arms. "Hors d'oeuvres, Captain?" Neelix asked her as he approached her with a large, silver tray full of interesting looking food. "Commander?" "Not at the moment, Neelix," Janeway said. "I think I'm going to make an announcement first." Neelix shrugged as if to say, Whatever you want. Chakotay grabbed a glass and spoon and clinked them together to get everyone's attention. Janeway winked at him, then asked the entire crew to join hands in a circle. "The last time I joined hands in a circle with members of this crew," she began, "was five years ago. There were nine of us on the bridge, all starving and decrepit, all tired and worn out, all feeling a little bit dead inside. Today, we join hands in the face of a feast, all alive and happy. I would like to remind all of you of something I reminded those nine crewmembers of, and something of which I was reminded myself not long before that. Count your blessings, for all of you have many. I know that as I stand here counting mine, the list is too long to speak. I would like to thank the doctor for keeping us all alive through one of the most difficult times this ship and crew has faced. I know it will be difficult for many of you getting back to your lives while still feeling like you've missed five years of them. I feel that way, too. But if you're worried, and you can't sleep, just count your blessings instead of sheep. And you'll fall asleep counting your blessings." Janeway finished, and her speech was met with respectful applause. She was touched to see many members of her crew hugging each other and telling each other that they cared. She turned to Chakotay, standing next to her, and took his hand. Then they turned back to watch their family, all of whom were alive, joyful and counting their blessings.