This is an AU crossover, and if you like really the senior staff, you might want to cover your eyes.


He smiled again, condescending, pure, utter evil radiating from him like a light from within. He was, to use cruder human parlance, a sick, demened bastard, who she fully intended to one day rip apart with her own bare hands…

She had never understood the human usage of profanity. Now though, she did – it served when emotions ran higher than so called 'polite' language could satisfy. How did it come to this…? Seven of Nine thought back


He had been an Ensign, a young, shy, inexplicably absent minded Ensign. Pleasant, polite, efficient. And then, one day, he had discovered an old fob watch among his possessions. Nothing special, a mere irrelevant time piece. She could still remember the day when he had come into sickbay complaining about a headache, holding the watch firmly in his hands. Then, while the Doctor had examined Ensign Yana (as he had been known then), she had scanned the watch. And what had happened had surprised her. The Ensign's watch was soaked in Artron radiation. She remembered coming to the Captain about it.

"What exactly is Artron radiation?" Janeway had asked, not sure what to make of Sevens insight.

"A form of energy associated with those who have travelled in the Time/Space Vortex," she had replied, efficiently and to-the-point as always.

"The what?" Of course, Janeway didn't know about it.

"Time/Space Vortex. A layer of existence beneath both subspace and normal space," she had explained. "The Borg only know of its existence because of extensive study of certain memories possesed by certain individuals of certain species such as the krenim, and even then, all we know is that it exists, nothing more."

"So why is an antique fob watch soaked in it?" Janeway had asked her.

"I don't know," she had replied. And for once, it was completely true – the Borg had no answer in her mind. And that, in itself, was unsettling at the time…


Six months ago.

The EMH studied the mans brain patterns, and sighed. He didn't believe what he was seeing.

"Doctor?" Ensign Yana asked. "How bad is it?"

"This isn't possible," the Doctor said. "It seems, as though… I don't believe I'm even saying this… it seems as though your brain pattern is not your real brain pattern."

"Not my real brain pattern?" he asked, annoyed. "What the hell does that mean?!"

"It means, Mr Yana, that you are not you," the Doctor said.

Yana looked at him for a moment. His eyes flashed.

"Not… me?"

"Not you," the Doctor confirmed. "You appear to be a sophisticated… disguise."

He hated telling this man that he wasn't real, but what could he say? Well, you look fake, but hey, you aren't!

Yana was taking it very well though. Almost too well.

"Can you hear them?" he asked quietly.

"What?" the Doctor asked.

"They're coming closer to me," the troubled man said. "Closer and closer, ooh, and they're so near now…"

He was smiling, and it was such a strange smile, that it worried the EMH greatly. Just once, he wished that he had never been given any emotions.

"You know Doctor," the Ensign smiled, in a voice almost unlike his own, "I'm going to go for a walk."

"What?" the EMH said. "Wait, you can't…"

"Computer, deactivate EMH," Yana said. "Code 3325645464675."

And then the Doctor knew no more.


Seven came out onto the bridge behind Captain Janeway.

"Janeway to the EMH," the Captain called, tapping her badge.

No reply.

"Computer, is the EMH online?" Janeway asked.


"Activate him," Janeway said.

"No, you can't – Captain?"

"Yes," Janeway said. "What happened Doctor?"

"Its Yana – he's heading somewhere!"

"Where?" Janeway asked.

"I don't know – Captain, he's extremely dangerous…he's some sort of complicated disguise mechanism!"

"What?!" Chakotay snapped, interrupting. "I worked with him only yesterday!"

"He's a keyboard enthusiast," Harry Kim added. "Why would someone fake all that?!"

"He didn't know he was a fake!" the Doctor said, over the comm system. "I couldn't exactly lie to him about it…"

"Oh how moral," came the voice of the man they were discussing. "Of course, you can lie, Doctor. Like the other man I know by that name, you prefer to be sanctimonious."

Yana was in the bridge turbolift doorway - and he looked almost insane. He was smiling. His uniform undershirt was undone, showing his sweating chest, hairless, and his red overshirt (he was the single person on Voyager who had worn Duty uniform as opposed to the more standard jumpsuit) was unzipped and hanging off of him. He held a phaser in his hands, set - so it seemed - to kill.

"Give me my watch," he asked, almost politely.

"Why do you require it?" Seven asked him.

"Because I asked nicely?" he said, smiling. Seven looked to Janeway, who nodded.

"What else is there to do?" she mouthed. Seven nodded back, and then she gave him the watch. He stared at it, and smiled.

The drums are coming for you…

Voices poured out of the watch, as it opened slowly...

I am beyond you…

You are all mine…

I am a God…

Your world, your universe, your very lives belong to me…

I am a Lord of Time…

"I… am…

A golden light shone out through the bridge as he opened the watch, and the entire crew covered their eyes. His own eyes shone, and he smiled more insanely than ever. The light seemed almost to fly towards him...

"…the Master," and the voice was his own.


That was Six months ago.

He had deactivated the Doctor. Something about 'not trusting anyone with that title and no name, even if they are a hologram.'

He had hypnotised the entire crew, but he left the senior staff aware, while the rest of the crew served him unconsciously. Captain Janeway had tried to lead a rebellion.

Her mistake.

Oh it had succeeded. He had died. He had been shot with a kill blast. Janeay had stood over the smoking corpse.

Then it had glowed, with some sort of energy, and somehow, Yana had turned into a slightly older man, more authority, and he had smiled at them. He had put Janeway and Chakotay off the ship with a survival pod, and said to them, "this is the biggest backwater in history. Have fun. Bye bye!"

That was almost thre thousand light years away.

The difference between him and Yana was that he could modify the engines, make the ship infinitely faster, something Yana had never considered. Yet they were the same man, answering to the same title.

Then Tuvok had tried to kill him. But this new Master's merciful streak had ended with Janeway – he had broken the Vulcans mental control, then broke the vulcans mind. He now had him in a jester suit, sleeping on the floor.

Tom Paris he kept shining a collection of vintage cars he had put in the cargo bays. B'Lanna Torres was currently in her quarters, dressed in full Klingon Warrior outfit – "make people dress status" was one of the Masters many mottos. She was now a soldier in his private army, only aware enough to hate him for what he made her do. Harry Kim was always at his old post, except for his one meal a day, and his one toilet break a day, and his five hours of sleep a day. The Master used him as a glorified 'one man serves all' on the bridge. Neelix was still cook, but since he was not technically on the senior staff, he was subsumed, unaware – sometimes Seven envied him.

Because Seven had the worst job of all. She was dressed in what amounted to Metal womens underwear, and little else. Tom ad told her that those clothes were in fact from an old Science Fiction movie, where a female character had been made a slave. But Seven more than dressed the part.

Every night, the Master made that painfully clear.

Yes, she decided she did hate this man. Apart from the torture he inflicted on her he inflicted it on everyone else as well. The worst thing was his songs – not because they were the most horrific, but because they added insult to injury. He loved them. Every few days, he called out to the entire crew, with one of his incessant messages. Today was one of those days.

"Crew of Voyager!" he said, grinning. "Its that time again!"

They would never groan out loud (the last person who did so had died in ways they didn't like to think about). But occasionally, the songs were apt enough.

"#Happy yesterday to all, we were born to die..."

And this was their life.

She would have never admitted to it out loud, but somehow, amazingly, she was adapting.

Was this her life?


But as the music started, she found herself reminiscing about what life was like before.

This might be her life - but not for very much longer.

She fingered the knife in her sleeve. She had smuvggled it out of Neelixes kitchen.

Tonight, she would kill him – and then herself. Voyager would be free of him… and she would be free of the memories.