[Archivist’s Note: The following excerpt from the personal log of Captain Kathryn Janeway was discovered only recently. It was apparently mistakenly filed by the ship’s computer in the automated fuel consumption records, encrypted, and copied over. By correlating to an account of the same incident in the logs of Seven of Nine/Annika Hansen, this undated entry almost certainly was made during the sixth year of the historic Delta quadrant mission of USS Voyager. It is probable that the entry was made immediately prior to the ship’s encounter with a subspace ellipsis; records show that Seven of Nine was attempting unauthorized enhancements to the computer core in the hours before the encounter with the ellipsis, which resulted in multiple malfunctions and mistaken routings.]

Captain’s Personal Log. Chakotay and I agreed not to include this incident in our logs, but it occurs to me that I did not reach a similar agreement with Seven. God forbid that her perceptions of this affair stand as the only record of events. I shudder to think of the spin she might put on it. As it is, I had to piece the whole story together from several sources. The ship’s rumor mill is probably working overtime. Unless something happens soon to distract attention, we’ll likely be hearing about subspace elves for weeks.

This all started with fleas. Photonic fleas, thank you very much. If it turns out this quadrant has photonic rats, too, I’m going to get a photonic dog and cat as vermin control.

We knew something was creating some minor problems with the sensor grid. For several weeks, the grid had experienced intermittent, minor fluctuations in resolution for no discernible reason. It had become a point of honor with B’Elanna and the Engineering crew to find the cause, but after three weeks they had come up dry. Without consulting B’Elanna, Seven decided to enhance her cortical processor and try a major data dump to solve the mystery. She came up with photonic fleas, and called B’Elanna to announce her discovery. B’Elanna was not convinced, but agreed the idea should be reported to me.

They came to the bridge together, and Seven explained her theory in front of all of us. Tom Paris turned in his seat. "Photonic fleas?" he repeated, sharing a look of amusement with B’Elanna. "Why not subspace elves?"

Damned if she didn’t turn out to be right. We found two fleas just where Seven predicted, in the Deck 2 conduit to the sensor grid. They had been there, she estimated, at least 8 weeks. Seven looked so smug I thought B’Elanna was going to wrap the deck plate around her neck.

I should have seen it coming.

When Seven asked permission to analyze the ship’s data bases through the use of an enhanced cortical processor, I gave consent. Her motives were good; in fact I was pleased that she was trying to do something constructive to help the ship. She’s been in a bit of a funk ever since the incident with the Vodwar, and I suspect she blames herself for the outcome. I was happy to approve a project that seemed so harmless – the analysis of data we’ve already analyzed seven ways from Sunday, if you will pardon the expression.

I told Chakotay about it over dinner in my quarters. We’ve gotten into the habit of eating together at least once a week since we encountered the Equinox, and we discuss business if there is any, or anything we feel like talking about. He raised his eyebrows a bit when I told him. "Do you really think that’s a good idea?" he asked. "Seven already thinks she’s close to infallible. If she’s armed with the entire input of the ship’s logs, she could become insufferable."

"Do you honestly think she’s going to find anything more surprising than photonic fleas? We’ve been over that data thoroughly. If she finds anything new, I’ll eat…I’ll eat this mess," I said, raising a forkful of the very unsuccessful new recipe I had foisted upon us as an excuse for dinner.

He’s already reminded me of that conversation.

It was the next day that we encountered Mr. Tash and his catapult. The official logs have the factual details, but the important thing is that Tash was friendly, forthcoming and sympathetic to our situation. In short, he was so unlike the majority of species we’ve encountered in this quadrant that Chakotay, Tuvok and I were immediately suspicious of him. I thought we did an admirable job of concealing our concern, but Seven asked to speak with me after the meeting.

"You do not trust Mr. Tash," she said flatly.

I admit, I was startled. "Why do you say that?"

"Your face flushed for 2.1 seconds, and you exchanged significant glances with both Commander Tuvok and Commander Chakotay on two different occasions."

(Note to self: don’t play poker with Seven.)

"It’s not that I don’t trust him." I chose my words carefully. "It’s just that experience in this quadrant has taught me to be a little wary of strangers. Mr. Tash may be exactly what he appears – a kindred spirit, just trying to get home again."

I should have known she wouldn’t let it rest. She came to my ready room the next day, before my second cup of coffee, and as soon as she walked in I knew something was up. She was practically quivering with excitement, and her eyes had that particular glow that means she is about to demonstrate the Superior Borg Intellect yet again.

(Note to self: maybe a little poker would be ok.)

"Mr. Tash is not what he appears," she announced dramatically.

I considered this for a moment. "Is he a Hirogen in disguise?"

"You misunderstand me," Seven said, and I probably sighed. She still does not recognize my sense of humor. "He is deceiving you. He is in league with the Caretaker."

Time to nip this in the bud. "Because he’s using a tetrion generator to power the catapult?"

She looked as if she had swallowed a raw oyster for the first time and didn’t enjoy the experience. "You know of this?"

"Of course," I said airily. The truth is, Tuvok had brought me the analysis only about 5 minutes earlier. She didn’t need to know that, though. It wouldn’t hurt if she thought I was more than one step ahead of her. "I told you yesterday, we’ve learned to be wary of strangers. We checked him and his catapult thoroughly."

"I see." If I had taken away her pet puppy, she could not have been more crestfallen. "Then I trust you will determine the origin of the generator and Mr. Tash’s motives."

"I’ll certainly try," I assured her, and for once, I did not have to tell her she was dismissed. And that, I thought, settled the matter.

Mistake.

We met with Tash, and his answers were satisfactory to everyone. Well, at least Tuvok, Chakotay and I were satisfied and we’re the ones who count. Tash made his successful run through the catapult and we were getting ready to use it ourselves when Seven requested my presence in Astrometrics.

What the hell, she summoned me. Someday that girl is going to learn about protocol, if not courtesy.

The Borg-is-Better gleam was in her eyes again. "We cannot use the catapult," she proclaimed.

"Why not?"

"Because it is part of a Maquis plot to gain control of Caretaker technology," and then she began to rattle off all of the reasons for this statement. I can’t repeat it verbatim, she was going much too fast and not always making sense, but it boiled down to this: She had "evidence" from the records on Neelix’s ship that a Cardassian ship had been pulled into the Delta quadrant by the Caretaker just days before the Liberty, but it disappeared from sensors. She postulated it was hurled back to the Badlands, where it encountered the Liberty. The Cardassian captain spilled his guts to Chakotay just before being eradicated from existence, and Chakotay made the daring decision to go after the Caretaker’s technology and bring it home, to benefit the Maquis. He probably intended to bring the Caretaker under his thumb, but his back-up plan was almost certainly to take advantage of the confusion that would strike the Starfleet ship that would certainly be pursuing him, and convince it’s captain that he was harmless. Then, he would arrange for the Caretaker’s technology to be shipped across the quadrant, first by the Kazon – Seska was his operative who infiltrated the Kazon – and then by whatever means made themselves available.

I listened, dumbfounded by the sheer magnitude of the delusion, until she stopped for breath. "That’s…a remarkable assertion, Seven. I’m curious, what got you started in this line of thought?"

"I found evidence of a tractor beam that was used to push the tetrion generator from the array into subspace," she informed me.

That was interesting. I’d been over the records of the destruction of the array countless times and never seen a tractor beam. "Show me," I said. Sure enough, in a frame of the record showing the array exploding, there was a streaky, blue-white flash. "That’s odd," I said. "I don’t remember seeing that before."

"You lack the ocular range needed to detect this without technological assistance," she replied.

Something about it didn’t look quite right. "Are you certain that it is a tractor beam?" I asked.

"I have eliminated all other possibilities," she assured me.

"Chakotay to Captain. Mr. Tash is available."

"Have him beam over," I replied. "I’ll be there momentarily." I looked at my eager Borg. "You’ve built a pretty house of cards, Seven, but its foundation won’t hold. There is no one on this ship I trust more than Chakotay." I stared directly at her, hoping to make my point. "No one. And that means your entire premise is flawed."

"You are emotionally biased," she said, and I swear she was pouting.

"Probably. But that bias is based on experience. And it’s not the only flaw in your theory." With as much patience as I could muster, I quickly pointed out all the cracks in her logic, ending with the fact that Chakotay had no time to make arrangements of any kind before Voyager arrived on the scene. He and his crew were still in the Caretaker’s deep freeze when we arrived. "And don’t forget that Chakotay destroyed his ship to save Voyager. Not the smartest move if you’re trying to direct a conspiracy."

She listened, and her frown deepened. "The fact remains that there was a tractor beam. Someone pushed the generator to subspace."

"And the subspace elves brought it here? Seven, your theory requires the cooperation of literally hundreds of races over thousands of light years. Knowing what this quadrant is like, do you actually believe that would be possible?"

"I see your point, Captain," she finally acknowledged, "but I am certain that there is more here than meets the eye."

"Perhaps." I left it at that, and hurried down to Engineering.

Big Mistake. My only excuse is that I really wanted to see how the preparations for the catapult were coming.

Chakotay told me what happened next. Two hours later, he stopped by the mess hall for a quick lunch and Neelix cornered him. "I hear we can’t use the catapult," he said.

"Do you know something I don’t?" Chakotay asked.

Neelix looked around, then lowered his voice. "I hear you’ve found evidence of a Federation conspiracy." He then described practically the same massive plot that Seven had postulated with me, only this time I was the lead conspirator. I was mastermind of a secret Federation-Cardassian plot to gain a military presence in the Delta quadrant, in derogation of the Jankata Accords. I wasn’t planning to get the ship closer to home, I was planning to bring a Federation-Cardassian invasion force through it.

Give me a throne, and call me Chaotica.

According to Neelix, I had done this with the help of the cloaked Cardassian ship that had used a tractor beam to push the tetrion generator into subspace, where apparently the subspace elves were waiting to bring it here.

Chakotay stared at him. "Subspace elves, Neelix?"

For the first time, Neelix heard how ridiculous that sounded. "Yes, well, ah, I assumed that Seven was using that as a euphemism for the Vodwar, or some other race that travels in the subspace tunnels." He blushed, a deep burnt sienna shade.

"Seven told you this?"

"Well, not told exactly," Neelix admitted. "She said she had a theory and needed some information from me, about when we all met."

"I see," Chakotay tried his replicated soup. It was sour. "Neelix, you’ve been on this ship for 6 years. Do you honestly think that Captain Janeway is capable of such immoral behavior?"

"No," he said quickly, then added more thoughtfully, "No. It really doesn’t make sense, does it?"

"No, it doesn’t." Chakotay pushed his barely-touched soup away. "Do me a favor, don’t let this get onto the ship’s grapevine. The last thing we need is a runaway rumor."

"You can count on me, Commander," Neelix said.

Chakotay stood, grabbed a piece of fruit. "When was the last time you cleaned the replicators? That soup is really bad."

Our cook was immediately flustered. "I’m right on schedule with maintenance, Commander. Perhaps the recipe files have been compromised. Would you like something else – I’ve got some casserole-"

"No thanks." It was leola root casserole. "Just check on it, will you? The Captain’s replicator was off last night, too." He smiled. "Perhaps the subspace elves are tinkering with the equipment."

We were so busy with preparations for the catapult that Chakotay and I did not have a chance to talk for several hours. Our conspiracy theorist was busy, though, having abandoned her previous lines of reasoning and developed new ones. She sought out Tuvok in his office. "The Captain and the Commander will not listen to me," she told him, "but we must not use the catapult. I have uncovered compelling evidence that the catapult is a Kazon trick, to throw us back to the Ocampa home world and Kazon territory."

Tuvok is too discreet to repeat the details of his reaction. "Suffice it to say," he told me later, "that I established the errors in her logic." He hesitated, then said, "Captain, there is another matter I must bring to your attention. Are you familiar with the concept of…subspace elves?"

"Uh, why? Did Seven mention it?"

"No," Tuvok said with a frown, "but I did overhear Ensign Nicoletti and Crewman Golwat discussing the possibility of subspace elves in the holodeck. They were speculating that such elves were the cause of the appearance of a Klingon warrior in their cross-country skiing program."

Seven is nothing if not determined, and after leaving Tuvok she went back to her alcove and reviewed the data yet again. When she emerged, she sought out Harry Kim, who was in Astrometrics, preparing projections for the catapult toss. "Ensign Kim," she said, "you must listen to me. I have grave concerns about the plan to use the catapult."

"Why?" Harry asked.

"It is part of a Vodwar plot to exact vengeance on us," she said, her eyes wide and alarmed, arms twitching slightly. "I have been reviewing ship’s data. It is clear that a Vodwar ship pushed the tetrion generator from the Caretaker’s array into subspace, and brought it here. I do not know what their intent is, but it can only be malevolent."

Harry is the most courteous young man I have ever met. When he reported this to me, he told me that all he did was say, "But, Seven, the Vodwar were all in stasis when we found them. They couldn’t have done anything six years ago. Unless," he tried to joke with her, "they recruited the subspace elves to help them."

Seven turned on her heel and left Astrometrics. Harry didn’t think to report this conversation to me until much later.

Not more than an hour later, Seven sought Harry out again, this time in Engineering. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, Harry was with B’Elanna at the time.

At almost the exact same moment, Chakotay and I both finished with our chores for the launch and decided to pay a visit to Seven’s alcove. It was the first chance we had to compare notes on the past several hours, and when we each heard what the other had to say, we knew something was very wrong. I asked the Doctor to come check on Seven’s equipment.

In the meantime, Seven was sharing her latest theory with Harry and B’Elanna. "Starfleet sent Voyager here intentionally," she said. Both report that she was unusually edgy, running her hands up and down her forearms, pacing nervously. "And the Liberty, too. They knew my parents and I had been trapped in this quadrant, probably assimilated. They wanted to find me, to bring me back for study." If they had looked closely, they might have seen the genuine fear in her eyes. "For dissection."

According to Harry, they all stood in stunned silence for a moment, unable to decide how to tell Seven she was nutty as a fruitcake. B’Elanna finally spoke. "You know, Seven, I never approved of this mission. Personally, I think it’s wrong."

Seven’s eyes widened. "Then you admit it?"

"Well, you’re partly right," B’Elanna told her. "We were sent to the Delta quadrant. We were never really Maquis, that was all a ruse, to deceive you. Starfleet is after you, all right. But not for dissection."

"For what purpose, then?" Seven demanded. "To help expand your knowledge base? Your weapons base?"

B’Elanna shook her head. "No. We had to get Neelix first, then you." She leaned close, and lowered her voice. "The Federation plans to breed a Talaxian-Borg super-race. You and Neelix are the new Adam and Eve."

There was silence at the table for a full five seconds, then Harry began to chuckle. Then guffaw. Seven looked at him, understanding dawning. "You are laughing at me," she said stiffly.

"No," Harry said, trying without success to stop, "not at you. At the idea."

Seven stood. "I will not be the butt of your jokes."

Naomi Wildman tells me she encountered Seven in the corridor almost immediately after this. Seven made some pointless, bitter comment about Naomi, a half-Ktarian, being involved in some plot against her, and kept going.

By then, the Doctor had reported to me that Seven’s repeated attempt to interface with the ship’s databanks was beyond her capacity. "She’s absorbed too much material, and her brain is trying to make sense of it," he said. "And some of the data has been corrupted. I don’t know why Seven didn’t realize this."

If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he was making excuses for her.

About two minutes after he’d delivered that news, Harry Kim – back on duty – reported an attempt at an unauthorized shuttle launch.

"Aborted," Tuvok said with some satisfaction. Yes, I’m sure that I heard satisfaction in his tone.

"It’s Seven," Harry added. "She’s still sitting in the Delta Flyer. I don’t think she’s coming out."

So, I went down to the shuttle bay to speak with my Borg. She was sitting in the pilot’s chair, looking despondent. "They laughed at me," she said, her eyes awash with tears, rubbing her arms. "You all laughed at me."

There are times when I miss having children. There are other times when I am certain that I have 146 children. This was one of them. Seven was trying to run away from home because she was embarrassed and her feelings were hurt.

I had to remind myself, rather strongly, that in terms of social development Seven is still an adolescent in many respects, and that she needed patience and reassurance. So, I gave her my best impromptu speech about embarrassing moments, and reminded her that all of us on board had made mistakes. "You were trying to think deductively and creatively," I told her. "That’s a wonderful thing. But creativity means errors will be made. Next time, you’ll double check your facts before presenting them as evidence."

She was silent for a moment. "I am not even close to perfection."

"No," I agreed, "but few of us are, Seven. That’s why we have to keep striving for it."

After a moment, she nodded, and began rubbing her arms vigorously. "Seven," I said slowly, "what are you doing?

"Scratching," she replied. "I itch."

Call it a hunch, but suddenly I knew the source of her problems. "Computer, dim lights to night levels," I said. In the darkness, they were clearly visible. If they were on Seven, they were surely in her alcove. God, now they were probably on me.

I sighed. "Janeway to bridge. I need a site-to-site transport. Seven and I need to go to Sickbay for decontamination."

After the slightest hesitation, Chakotay said, "We’re not reading any radiation leaks."

"Not radiation," I said. "Fleas. Photonic fleas. The entire ship is probably crawling with them, including the shuttles. "

The fleas were all over Seven; a few had jumped to me. Anyone who had been within two meters of Seven in the past two days was also sporting one or two. The Flyer was completely infested, as was the entire replicator system. The holodecks had a swarm, and we were just lucky that they hadn’t found their way to Sickbay yet. Seven’s alcove was Flea Central. There were thousands of the little buggers, living happily in all her brightly lit equipment and feasting on the data she had downloaded to her computer.

It took ten hours for the crew to be decontaminated, and another ten hours for B’Elanna to trap them all.

Poor Seven. All of her conspiracies were based on a blue-white streak on a copy of the ship’s records. Flea guano. That’s what it was – photonic flea guano on a data chip.

Chakotay and I talked it over during dinner tonight. We agreed that there was no need to include this in our official logs. Seven has been embarrassed enough, and after all, all’s well that ends well. The catapult threw us three years closer to home, the fleas are gone for now, and that’s enough. The admiralty doesn’t need to be bothered with insignificant details.

Like flea guano and subspace elves.

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