Through the Looking Glass

letter to Mallory's next of kin.
Feeling sorry comes later, Kathryn.
Damn right it does. One of my crew is dead and more are injured.
Janeway strode from Sickbay. She wanted answers.
**********************
Commander Chakotay surveyed the damage in Cargo Bay Two. It was virtually unrecognizable.
Broken crates of supplies lay strewn on the deck as if a pouting two year old had smashed them.
Melting ice drizzled down walls marred by scorch marks. Small scarlet crystals slowly liquefied
into blood spatter. A few yellow stains on the bulkheads were all that remained of the toxic
vapors that claimed Mallory's life.
Seven had only just finished running a diagnostic on her alcove. It had escaped major damage.
The tall woman approached him, and he saw a myriad of small scratches across her classic
features.
"Commander," she began. "I do not require regeneration at this time. I would prefer to assist in
the investigation."
"I know you would, Seven, but the Doctor instructed you to rest. So did the captain."
The ex-Borg's pale blue eyes betrayed the worry that her carefully schooled features concealed.
Chakotay had only begun to appreciate Seven as a person. Janeway had seen the woman's
potential from the beginning, had believed in her without question. He regretted the prejudices
that blinded him. Taking Seven's elbow, he walked her to the alcove. "I'm glad you weren't
injured." Chakotay spoke from his heart, as he'd seen the captain do when working with Seven.
"You've become a valued member of this crew. Believe me. We'll need your help to piece
together what happened here. Once you've regenerated, you'll be at peak efficiency. By then
some of the team members will be tired, and you can take over."
Seven held his eyes for long moments, then said, "I will comply." She stepped into her alcove.
"Thank you." Chakotay gave her a quick smile, and returned to work.
Commander Tuvok and Lt. Torres were crouched near what remained of the exploded sleep tube,
tricorders in hand. He angled toward them, winding his way past teams from security and
engineering.
On the silver deck was the grotesque outline of a man lying on his side.
Where Mallory lay. Chakotay slowed his pace out of respect, and offered up a silent prayer,
Spirits of my ancestors, guide our brother home. He would conduct a traditional ritual in the